Nothing Better to Do

I swear, those folks at Immigration Canada have really nothing to do. Used to be, they'd pull the full-frontals out of girlie magazines, but now they seem to be in the business of confiscating spaghetti sauce. Yes, you read it right.

Our finest, Humpty Dempster of the RCMP saw fit to remove at least 7 completely hermetically sealed pouches of Japanese spaghetti "meat sauce," as they like to call it, which is actually quite delicious, from my bag, ignoring the doll I bought as a belated birthday present for Brigitte, and a nice bottle of soy sauce and mirin and several Japanese mayonnaises.

Why, you ask, on a late (late!) Friday night at customs and immigration, did they decide to pull my exhausted self aside just to check for contraband spaghetti sauce?

Ah, you've already answered the question, I see.

Because they can, flock, BECAUSE THEY CAN. So out it went, no doubt to the trash. No, I pointedly told them to take it home, it was good, but they just smirked and said "No, we won't be taking it home, sir."

Land of the Free and the Brave and the Spaghetti-sauce Confiscating!

But behold what they did NOT take, including the 478 grammes of pure Colombian cocaine contained therein (oh, that I went all the way to Japan for!):

Isn't that doll a doll? It's Brigitte's birthday present. The rest is ingredients in the best food you ever saw.

Minus the toxic spaghetti sauce.

Yes, I'm home, safe and sound, after a killer trip meeting really nice people, all except for Humpty Dempster, RCMP. You, sir, are a cad.

For Brigitte

What Humpty Didn't Get