Well, it's finally getting to be summer in Canada, which means it's time for a few traditional events which take place in Canada every year at this time. The first thing that noticibly happens, is that the snow melts enough for us to see the grass and leaves huge water puddles (sometimes big enough to drop a cow in and lose it). These puddles can also cause damage, as we have seen in the May article (which actually isn't finished yet, but will have something to do with livestock, dikes, and Manitoba).
The next big event to herald the coming of summer is the coming of the mosquitos. Now we all know there are mosquitos in most every country with summer and less smog that L.A., but in Canada (or at least Saskatchewan) this means that we have to head out for our yearly blood transfusion, to keep the meager blood we have in our bodies at levels high enough to sustain life. There are times when the swarms of mosquitos get so big that they actually pose a threat to the swarms of vicious, meat-eating squirrels. It is an obvious fact that this editor prefers winter because of these events.
Now, you all may be saying to yourselves, "Why hasn't there been a useful and informative SPU editorial for so long? It has been such a long time that I am beginning to lose touch with all the wonderful and educational, not to mention entertaining world of The SPU.". Well, there is a very good series of reasons that there hasn't been an article for so long. It all began somewhere in the middle of April. As I finished writing the last article, a large piece of debris from a nearby missile testing site came through the roof of my house and landed on my head. This caused me to lapse into a comatose state which lasted for about 3 weeks. After awaking, I was shocked to notice that there was something odd about all the doctors and nurses at the hospital. They all seemed to be wearing the same type of clothes. The fact that they all walked around like someone was out to get them and that they all carried handguns was something I never even noticed at first. The thing that was so odd about these people's clothes was that they all wore trenchcoats and large hats that made it difficult to see their faces. I can only guess why they never walked in the shadows and talked very quietly.
Well, soon after I awoke, one of the doctors came to my room and immediately tied me up and threw me into the trunk of a big car. From there, I was driven to a large river and rather unceremoniously dumped into the afformentioned body of water. I drifted down the river until I was pulled ashore by the crew of a Russian nuclear submarine. I was trained to be their sonar operator, as my predecessor to the job had gone a tad nuts and stolen a lifeboat. (He had, unfortunately, forgotten that they were underwater at the time and drowned within seconds.) After 3 days, we set off and returned to the patrol we were assigned before the sonar operator went nuts. While I was down there, I noticed that there was a room in the sub that only the captain ever went into and that was obviously not his quarters, as it had a big nuclear power sign on the door. So, being the investigative reporter that I am beginning to doubt that I am, I checked it out one day and found something that I had never expected. It was a broom closet and the captain was really just going there to drink. After he saw me in there (I probably should have waited until he was out of the closet), I was shot out of the torpedo tube and surfaced near the coast of Winnipeg.* (You all may be saying to yourselves, "Winnipeg is a landlocked city of decidedly less than 1,000,000 people in a location not far from the geographical center of North America". If you did, you're very bright. If not, you probably just didn't think of it at the time.) As soon as I crawled from the water, I was hit on the head by a sandbag that was used to build the wall higher. As my vision cleared, I was able to see another sandbag fly at my now-quite-abused head. When I recovered from that, I was hit in the head by another. After about an hour, I was lucky enough to be thrown back into the water and not get hit in the head anymore. As my vision cleared (quite quickly now, as I was fairly practiced at that sort of thing) I saw a large flying disc hovering overhead. I instantly thought of being abducted by aliens, but soon noticed that it was merely the wheel from a truck that had broken loose and I watched it go sailing through the air and imbed itself in an office building. Normally, people would be concerned, but this is Canada and that kind of thing happens quite regularly. While I was distracted, I actually was kidnapped by aliens and taken aboard their spaceship. The aliens were quite nice and offered me one wish in exchange for an hour at doing decidedly not-nice things to my right arm. I talked them down to removing my left kneecap in exchange for flying their ship for a couple of minutes. They drove a hard bargain, but I was able to get it replaced with a teflon kneecap and I only had to take them to a Wal-Mart so they could blow it up in a very alien-like way. I have to admit that flying the ship was one of the better experiences of my life, and that includes the time that I fell off of a sandbag dike in southern Manitoba (which doesn't actually seem like a good experience, but you have to be hit in the head with sandbags for an hour to get the full thrill of not being hit.).
When I finally got back home from this trip, I was shocked to see that it was already June and I had missed writing the May article. Thankfully I realised that it was Agent 001/2's job to write that one and I was able to evade responsibility once again. There is also a reason why this article is late, but that would take too long. And, now, the actual article
The elections are over. The Liberals won. I told you so.