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- Montrealers got ugly. Montrealers once dazzled with their beauty, grace and je ne sais quoi. Montreal long attracted the genetic elite of every Quebec village, as rural beauties bused into the big city to share the magical force of their charms and glamour. The percentage of head-turning, jaw-dropping Gino Vanellis and Mitsous walking around the Golden Square Mile, West Island, Anjou and St. Leonard has since dipped from let's say 17% to say 9%.
- English are paranoid and traumatized so get ready for the rant. If you ever chat with an anglo-person from Montreal, you can just smell the political speech coming, usually in the form of something like, "what about those potholes?" Then comes the anglo consensus narrative asserting that the French Quebec majority that runs things here is incompetent and corrupt and can do nothing right, from the hockey team to the economy. Feel free to yawn.
Montreal's weather is the work of the devil. It's obvious but people avoid acknowledging it: the weather here is highly wrong. Frosty cold inhabits your toes, fingers, ear lobes and everywhere else from October to May. Avoid going outside during those times. Never open a door for more than a second and forget about opening a window. Frostbite and amputation loom in our consciousness at every moment. And brace yourself for that heating bill.
Montrealers have all moved to the suburbs. Suburbanites were once a little ashamed to admit their provenance. But nowadays people from those places barely care about Montreal as they enjoy the good parking and other charms of Vaudreuil, Mascouche, Candiac and far beyond and have no qualms about being there. Proof? Next time you seek to purchase some used item off kijiji wait for them to tell you where to come, if it's not a student selling it, then it'll be someone off-island.
Montrealers talk too much about restaurants. Montrealers slave all week just so they can blow their wad in a restaurant. Even out in the suburban wastlelands every strip mall has 14 restaurants to every nail salon and vape store so people can bore their moms and water cooler colleagues with tales of their exquisite meals.
Montreal is to New York City what Chicoutimi is to Montreal. We think we're in the game but we're not. Look at a map. New Yorkers, if they think about Montreal at all, think about it in the same way as Montrealers think about Chicoutimi. We're just not that important to the them (and we're even more obscure now that we have no baseball team). Look at a map to fully grasp this.
Montreal doesn't hate Toronto anymore. In fact we don't even think about the place much nowadays. Whatever loved ones, or jobs, that we had that moved to Toronto are so long gone that we no longer remember them or feel anything about them. We even indifferent to the Maple Leafs. But every Montrealer knows that this is a better place to be.
Montreal dresses no better than any other place. Sure we might dress less goofy that Torontonians or Calgarians (who'll routinely show up to work in say, bright red tights, bright red stockings and bright red blouse) but every city wears the universal, black, made-in-China uniform nowadays. No Montrealer knows what an ascot, paisley, houndstooth, or pocket square is anymore.
Montrealers are largely indifferent to the things we're supposed to be crazy about. People over 55 don't ride the metro. Too many stairs. Hockey? At least half of Montrealers couldn't name one player on the Canadiens. Mount Royal Park? Many Montrealers spend their entire lives without going there once. Poutine? Who in the world would eat that crap? Smoked meat and bagels? Well, yeah... okay... people still do that.
You don't need to speak a word of French to live in Montreal. Large swathes of Montreal's population go their entire lives without knowing a word of French. Hell, many speak neither English nor French and do just fine.
- Montreal used to be more exciting. A perpetual ongoing dreary campaign to correct every perceived social ill has swept over the Western world and Montreal is no exception. Busybody citizens combined with politicians and bureaucrats, who feel guilty for accepting their bloated direct deposit cheques, to tweak things better left alone. Bike paths are in, underage drinking is out, bike helmets (shudder!) are in, smoking is out. Waiting for red lights to turn green is in, cocaine sniffed off of strippers backsides is out. The city has been doused with antiseptic and it stinks.
