Kinky and friends - down on his Texas ranch

You just gotta love a bunch of misfits who go by the name Kinky Friedman and the Texas Jewboys. It's music to my ears, fer shure.

A 3-inch-tall statue of an armored Don Quixote rides on the dashboard of Kinky Friedman's old, beat-to-shit Nissan SUV.

Like his 17th-century Spanish literary hero, this 60-year-old self-styled hillbilly, country singer, musician, mystery writer, humorist and animal rescue ranch operator recently announced he's on a spiritual mission to defend the helpless and destroy everyone wicked.

Kinky's new field of battle is politics. He's running for Governor of Texas - George "Dubya's" home turf.

If it hadn't been for Toronto Star columnist Joey Slinger, I'd have spent the rest of my miserable little life Kinky-less.

This column herewith declares itself the headquarters of Canadians For Kinky Friedman For Governor Of Texas In 2006, and I don't care who knows it.

I make this declaration in full knowledge of what it represents in terms of Canada's relationship with the U.S.

It is a hostile act.

Not that there has been all that much sweetness and light between us anyway. This is probably the natural next step, although the specialists who study Canada-U.S. relations probably expected the natural next step would be something along the lines of a trade restriction of one sort or another.

They probably never considered the possibility of a strike at the very heart of America such as our all-out support for Kinky Friedman in his struggle to become governor of the state George W. Bush calls home.

Those of us who have been following the Kinkster's career for some time were well aware of the success he and his C&W group, Kinky Friedman and the Texas Jewboys, have had with songs like "They Ain't Makin' Jews Like Jesus Anymore'' and his lament for the age before women's liberation, "Get Your Biscuits In The Oven And Your Buns In The Bed.''

We were also aware of his political ambitions: "If elected, the first thing I will do is demand a recount.''

And how, as the first Jewish governor of Texas, he would reduce the state speed limit to 54.95. We had even sent off to his website for one of his fundraising T-shirts, "Kinky 2006: Why The Hell Not?''

But it wasn't until a laudatory article about him appeared in The New Yorker, not the sort of freedom-hating, crypto-terrorist publication that is much welcome in the White House, or Texas either ("Too glossy to be of any use in the outhouse''), that we recognized his strategic value.

If Kinky can be manipulated by America's treasonous, liberal media to make Bush's base look like goofballs, why couldn't we indulge in a little proliferation and make all America look loony?

With Bush in command, it is hell-bent on looking that way anyway. The least we could do, it seems to me, is help.

And besides, Canadians, along with everybody else in the world, already think of the Bush U.S. as Texas gone hogwild — "Shoot first, and ask questions if you can be bothered to think of any.''

Softwood lumber. It finally got to me. It took a reasonable, get-along-to-go-along Canadian and made me defiantly anti-American and pro-Kinky even if the political whirl is making him so semi-respectable that he sort of wishes he hadn't said what he said about Baptists; that the problem is they don't hold them under water long enough.

There isn't room in today's entire newspaper to list all the times various tribunals have ruled that U.S. duties on our beloved softwood lumber are indecent and illegal and insupportable and insane, but what does the new U.S. ambassador to Canada, David Wilkins, say when this gets mentioned?

The one thing that is for sure is that the more we escalate this and the more we have emotional press conferences about it, the less chance we've got to resolve it.''

We, ambassador man? Did he check his brains at the border? But even if we could negotiate the way the U.S. negotiated with Saddam Hussein they'd still keep telling us to stick it where the softwood lumber is never going to grow.

The NAFTA we were brainwashed into thinking would level the playing field turns out to be slanted like a pinball machine that, every time we score a point, goes "TILT!''

When things get this hopeless, even peaceable people can be driven to extremes, and there is nothing more extreme we can do to America's reputation than get Kinky elected. (His motto: "I like to be as misunderstood as the next guy.'')

But isn't the governorship of Texas a purely domestic U.S. matter? Sure it is, but so what? If the U.S. can go messing with other people's governments, we can mess with theirs.

They think they know how to intervene; we'll show them intervention.

The Kinkster's biggest obstacle is that Texans think his candidacy is some kind of joke. We know how he feels. Americans think Canada is some kind of joke. But joined together, Kinky and Canadians can become a power that will change the structure of the globe, a force that George W. will describe as "nucular.''

You ever see a custard-pie shaped cloud?

KINKY'S BIO

Richard Friedman was born near Palestine, Texas to an educated middle-class Jewish family. He’ll tell you that’s why he never made it as a country singer—he just didn’t have the same "opportunities" for a fruitful career in country music afforded to those with troubled, impoverished childhoods.

In college a roommate dubbed him "Kinky" for his mess of curly hair and the moniker stuck. Inspired by Kennedy, Kinky Friedman joined the Peace Corps in the late-’60s and served in Borneo, where he’s claimed his primary accomplishment was to introduce the Frisbee to the natives, which they used to make their lips big.

When he returned to the States, he had a brief but celebrated career writing and performing irreverent country songs with his band (Kinky Friedman and His Texas Jewboys) like "They Ain’t Making Jews like Jesus Anymore" and "The Ballad of Charles Whitman," eventually even touring with Bob Dylan.

Though the band developed a cult following, The Texas Jewboys’ star faded by the late-’70s, and in the mid-’80s Kinky began a successful second career as a mystery novelist.

His well-loved, hilarious mysteries feature a band of misfits called the Village Irregulars led by a hard-boiled, politically incorrect detective (with whom Kinky shares his name and quick tongue) who solves murders and tosses off one-liners with equal ease.

He’s one of the few authors who can count both President Bush and President Clinton among his fans. His newest, and final, installment in the series, Ten Little New Yorkers, has just been released.