The Deal With the Mountie
If you are from Canada, then you know all about Mounties. If you are not, well, welcome to Canada, where the national police force rides horses and knows how to pull off a red serge suit and always get their man, if not grammar.
The Royal Canadian Mounted Police, or RCMP, is as Canadian as, well, poutine (disgusting as it is, despite what Calvin Trillin writes). Or beaver tails (which are not made of beaver). Mounties are as Canadian as maple syrup (which we do not ingest by IV drip). As Stompin’ Tom Connors. As the Lumberjack Song (ok, that ditty immigrated to Canada, thanks to Monty Python, which is wonderfully Canadian if you think about it). So sing after me: I’m a lumberjack and I’m OK. I sleep all night and I work all day.
Back to the Mounties. The one in the Interactive Advent Calendar story I wrote and edited is a key chain from the collection of an art director-acquaintance with a real-life curiosity cabinet at home. Even rendered in metal, this little fella in red serge is mighty handsome. Maybe not quite as handsome as the one from Due South, but close.
