Where are the bumper stickers? The tasteless, righteous, squealing that adorns so many vehicles? Are their no angry eco-feminist-vegans in Canada? No belligerent Christ-thumpers? Why don't the semi's have printed pieces of cloth that resemble teeth strapped to their grills? Does nobody here support their troops? Where are the national flags? And the shallow political vitriol? Where is cartoon-Calvin kneeling at the cross or, alternately, peeing the words "Ex-Wife"? The cars are clean and bland. No mudflap babes, no antenna balls, no trailer-hitch balls.
A decision: to call the police on an ex-girlfriend, the bipolar mother of your child, the woman whose temper causes her to attack you as you are holding your infant son. You know that calling the police will be a declaration of war, a final termination of a dysfunctional entente. You know it will make seeing your son harder, at least in the short term. But you call them anyway because you fear that she will accidentally hurt the child. She is briefly detained. You are awarded a court order awarding you regular visitations but his mother evades you. Her phone whisks you to voicemail, her doorbell is unanswered and, when you intercept her at the doctor's office for your son's checkup you weren't invited to, she talks about leaving the provence. Was your decision the right one? In retrospect, you feel that there was no alternative... so you proceed with your newly hired lawyer.