Earlier this year, census figures showed that the population growth rate in Canada had hit an all-time low. In a shocking move, Prime Minister Jean Chretien said that "at this time I think it's very important that our population increase, either naturally or by immigration." He managed to come up with both of those methods all by himself, folks.

Being a great patriot (excusing my late payment to Revenue Canada in tax-year 2000), I feel compelled to help. But let's consider the options carefully. Lord knows how much trouble those damned immigrants can be, now more than ever. I therefore would like to propose that we should be focusing on natural methods of population increase. That's right: more fucky-fuck!
Consider Western society's seemingly tangential increase in the number of SMOPs: Single Mothers On Purpose.
These women are sick of waiting for dad to show up, and either bed down with a friend of good breeding stock, or adopt a nice Chinese baby. In the former case, you have a love-child of a fashion, but the uncle/daddy line might get a bit blurred. In the latter case, you don't get to experience child birth (which may be a pro for some women), but the product gets Purolatored to your door and 6 years later you have your own violin prodigy. At least, I'm pretty sure that's how it works.

Speaking on behalf of men everywhere, I'd like to say that I'm terribly upset by this trend. I'd like to, but I can't. I think it's a great deal that will work out for everybody involved. Guys like the sex stuff, and to finally not have to worry about pregnancy would be... well, a new experience. And considering that I have a mother and grandmother who have given me verbal permission to have children out of wedlock (they're tired of waiting, too) the stars could not be more perfectly aligned.

SO! If you're an aspiring SMOP, let me make my case.

• I'm tall, fit, with low cholesterol despite years of bacon and mayonnaise abuse.
• I scored 165 on an online IQ test and 71% on a 1980's pop culture quiz.
• I have a car. With a backseat.
• I got a three year Computer Science degree in only four years.
• I make a mean candlelight dinner to get you in the mood. And breakfast ain't bad either, but don't feel you have to stick around.

When you are ready to apply for my services, please send me a photograph and peak ovulating times via email. Naturally, you will incur travel and other expenses, but compared to the cost of adoption fees, I can provide much more bang for your buck.
What's that you say? A hero? No, I'm not a hero. I'm just a man. Just a man who'll go to great lengths... ahem... (cough, cough)... for his country.

Four men, four countries.

We agree on English, so that we will all know a few words, how to apologize. We speak slowly, pause often, move our hands, look at each other, smile.

Danish gurgles a little laugh at our efforts. It sounds as though his real name is devoid of vowels, and none of us were able to pronounce it
to his satisfaction, so we simply call him Danish. His eyes are half closed, and he has lit a stick of incense, as though anyone in this
sleepy hostel would care about the smell of what we are smoking.

Rinaldo is doing all the talking. His English has improved with each circuit of the thick joint, and sometimes he speaks too quickly for
Yurichiro, the compact Japanese with a walkman on a chain. "Too small. Not in US. Stolen this." After some debate, we determine that he's worried of HAVING it stolen, and he bought it legitimately in Hong Kong.

"If you go down, very down in you," Rinaldo says, pushing his palm from his throat down towards his stomach as he lies stretched out on the floor, "man wants woman for sex, and children, and house, only."

Danish nods. Yurichiro is concentrating intently on Rinaldo's words. Every person is a new English teacher. He has never tried marijuana before.

"And if a woman looks also down deep, but no listen to... lesbos?" they look to me: Rinaldo for confirmation, the rest for translation.

"Lesbians," I say, nodding at Rinaldo. I will not try to stop his argument. I am an impartial messenger for the language, and will debate the idea separately. "A woman who likes women," I explain to the other two. Danish says, "Ah," and Yurichiro stares at me blankly.

Rinaldo makes a peace sign with the fingers of his right hand and looks at Yurichiro. "Woman," he says, and Yurichiro nods, "who do like this," and he slaps his tongue into the crotch of his fingers, and slops it all over the sides of the V. Danish howls and slaps Yurichiro on the knee,
knocking himself backwards in the process. The Japanese blushes, "Hai," he says with a smile.

"So," Rinaldo continues, "if woman no listen to LEZ-BEE-INS," he sing-songs at me, "she know she wants man to own her and to protect her. She wants to protect children also. So, man and woman have separate jobs," Rinaldo finishes.

The other two nod. Yurichiro doesn't seem to understand why this is an interesting subject.

"What about if a man wants to take care of the children instead?" I ask.

Rinaldo pauses. "I think," he begins, "I respect his... decision?" he looks at me and I nod. "To become a woman," he concludes.