When it comes to physical conflict, bar room brawls, armed conflict or even worse, snipers, I am a born pacifist. I demonize terrorists, of any kind, for their anonymous and perverse pleasure in harming strangers, building bombs and believing their ideologies give them a right to cripple and destroy lives.

I feel that words are more powerful than nuclear weapons and clearly do not understand why might makes right. I've had these debates and often I get dirt kicked into my face, a dismissal with a benign announcement that as a Canadian, I couldn't possibly understand.

What's to understand? Americans haven't been at war with Canada in quite some time. It's been over two hundred years since any gunfire took place over the St. Lawrence River. You'd think, with that kind of history, we could teach the world a thing or two about living in harmony, wouldn't you?

I've been told I'm naive, but I don't think so. It's not that I dismiss the need for interference and a military presence in countries who have not quite reached our level of enlightenment. Rather, I believe that a global alliance, for lack of a better description, an army of soldiers with a fierce code of ethics should be established. God knows, the UN tried to do something like this, but everyone fought under their own flag. It didn't work--never has.

The new army might be built on containing rather than destroying radical ideologists. Strip dissidents of citizenship and issue new passports proclaiming them new citizens of the land of fools. Russia still has thousands of uninhabited acres, as does Canada and China. Surely we would part with some of our real estate to maintain world peace. Ship them all there and protect the out-bound borders.

With views as strong as these, it seems hard to fathom that I am experiencing a rage so hot that I have spent the last few days thinking of nothing else except the annihilation of my enemies. I have stepped far beyond the range, the audible warning of the voice of reason. I want them gone, dead...out of my life.

Yes, I'm Canadian. Our population is a tenth the size of the United States and yet we are the second largest country, geographically, in the world. Our citizens have not held up their responsibility to the government to procreate and supply a new generation of tax payers. We're so bloody responsible that the average woman stops reproducing after her second child. We have no other choice than to open our door and encourage immigration. Orators, when talking about Canada, wax on eloquently about our multi-cultural society, and they would be accurate.

Canadians have become so accepting of all cultures that even our average citizen can tell the difference between Chinese, Japanese and even Koreans, by facial recognition alone. If you walk through the streets of downtown Toronto, a city with more than three million residents, it might take a block or two before you'll see a Caucasian. We don't even notice. To us, they're just people.

We have fun celebrating all holidays, feeling an entitlement to adopt customs of our immigrants at will, or not, but letting them co-exist, live in our neighbourhoods and serve and be served by home grown Canadians--even those don't come in a single shade of colour. We are accustomed to sharing our streets and our country. Canadians are a tolerant lot and I'm a pretty good, but somewhat ornery, example of the average citizen.

It would never occur to me to wage physical or emotional war with any of these groups. I really do hesitate to call them minorities any more.

Therefore my murderous thoughts are as alien to me as they would be to anyone who knows me, if I voiced my true feeling about this one group.

It's gone past mumbling, shouting obscenities or trying to ignore their existence. Their arrogant nature has somehow given them the idea that even my own property is worthy of a war zone. They continue to violate my personal space, throwing their bombs at my house and destroying my peace of mind.

They are unmindful of any threat I might imagine myself to be. Once, they were content to limit their attacks to night time activities. Delighting in creeping onto my roof in the dead of night, they disrupt my sleep and practice dancing right over my bedroom. They have become blatant, leaving their debris on my deck--day and night.

Much to my delight, not every country shares the same cordial relationship with these creatures posing as Nationals. In some obscure cook books there are even recipes to roast or poach their bodies, using local berries as condiments, an accompaniment to their meaty flesh. The environmentalists might applaud my efforts, noting my willingness to eliminate waste, but the average Canadian would probably point fingers and accuse me of some form of cannibalism.

Hell, I'm almost a vegetarian. At best, my preoccupation with the recipes amounts to nothing more than fantasy, something we can all relate to, remembering how there were damn few of us that wouldn't have delighted in giving Osama one right between the eyes.

I'm getting a little desperate. I'd like to think of this population explosion as a seasonal thing. Maybe it's their version of summer camp. Come September, maybe they'll all disappear when school reopens.

But now that I've fully embraced my prejudices, I find they are bleeding, spilling over and creating new hatreds.

Just this morning I seriously considered cutting down all the oak trees on my property. If the damn squirrels don't piss off, it's the best I can do before resorting to murder, buying a gun and ammunition. Maybe I'll starve the damn rodents, eliminate their food supply, and maybe then, they'll leave me alone.