When is the last time that you thought of Canada? Really. There’s the second largest country in the world, by sheer landmass, right to our north and we never hear about Canada. Over 3.8 million square miles of lakes, elk, and a bunch of other stuff no one even knows about.
Canada is kind of like your slow cousin Steve you never really talked to at big family gatherings. He was always there, you knew about him, you knew you should talk to him more, and your mom told you to be nice to him, but deep down nobody noticed him unless he accidentally pulled your niece’s hair too hard or knocked over a punch bowl. You could tell that he always looked up to you because you were the cool, successful one in the family so you would smile at him and talk to him but would rather slice your arm off with a pair of rusty garden shears than be in a room alone with him for fifteen minutes. He was big, fumbling, and slow but gentle. He laughed at all your stories so you were nice to him – except for the occasional joke at his expense that you’d tell right in front of him because you knew he wouldn’t get it. He laughed, not because he got the joke, but because he was just happy to be the center of attention like the popular kids and have a joke written about him.
When is the last time you even heard anything about Canada? Canada is like a great big barn you looked through at your Grandpa’s house that was filled with old lawn mowers, mini bikes, blow torches, and all sorts of shit your mom would kick your ass for playing with if she caught you in there. It was huge and forgotten. Like your grandpa’s barn, a place of uncapitalized treasures; raw and unrefined. Your grandpa’d say, “Man I gotta clear out that barn one day” but he never did.
Canada is that girl who was awkward and shy just waiting for a compassionate hot girl to come along and show her how to fix her hair up, put on makeup, and talk to boys. The U.S. is like that girl’s dad. He knows, deep down, if someone ever did teach her to be all she could be he’d have some trouble on his hands. Every unwashed, meat-beating Tom, Dick, and Harry would be knocking on his door waiting to get with his little girl – so he just lets her keep stumbling along all goofy and introverted knowing he’s doing it for her own good. As it stands, she’s the kind of girl guys would kiss if their friends never found out. Some, who saw her potential would take a shot in the back of a bus when no one was looking but would be damned if they’d tell anyone about it for fear of public scorn and ridicule. Canada is the hot librarian guys dream of who looks dowdy until she takes off her glasses and lets her hair down.
Why don’t we hear about Canada like we hear about Mexico? No one ever talks about the illegal immigration problem from Canada. They’re not flooding over our borders. They just stay where they should and don’t bother anyone. We don’t give them the credit they deserve for doing so. On the one hand, we should be pissed at them for sending us Paul Schaefer and Bryan Adams, but on the other hand they are keeping our doctors rich with their socialized medicine. Stand in line and die or fly here where you can get shit done by the best in the world. Canada is making us look good. They buy our stuff but only ask that we drink their beer and Crown Royal in return. They provide shitloads of oil, hunting, and fishing but don’t use up any of our natural resources. They provide a buffer between us and Russia on the north side. Canada is good and we’ve got them right where we want them.
It’s time for us to give Canada the credit it deserves. Go there. Say “Hi” to it. Make nice. Drive over the border just to say you’ve been there. You’ll be glad you did.
