Dear Great White Northern Neighbor,
May we call you that?
We, the American people, divided though we are, find ourselves deeply distraught by the swift deterioration of our once esteemed friendship with you. While we are not at liberty to discuss the current economic “misunderstanding” for fear of indecisive retribution and half-measured threats, we humbly ask that you accept this list of heartfelt and much overdue apologies in the hopes we can be besties again.
We’re sorry for stealing your most precious assets—Ryans, both Gosling and Reynolds. While we are unable to return them because Hollywood needs their good-natured charm to prop up an otherwise cutthroat reputation, we will keep Justin Bieber and Wayne Gretzky for you indefinitely.
We low-key hate ourselves for making you feel like you can’t wear denim on denim, but we aren’t sure if you’re doing it ironically. You are, right?
Speaking of irony, we didn’t mean to crush your spirit by pointing out that Alanis Morissette’s hit song Ironic doesn’t actually contain any ironic anecdotes…which is, in itself, a bit ironic…don’t you think?
We are forever remorseful for keeping Céline Dion in Las Vegas for so long—nobody deserves that.
We’re sorrier than the game “Sorry!” for making fun of your pronunciation of words like “out” and “house.” We’re just really obsessed with accents in America because we don’t have them.
We grovel at your feet in humility for trying to win hockey. We’re just jelly that all the best NHL players skate for the Canadian National Team—except for the entire lineup of the Detroit Red Wings, who are Thor-descended Scandinavian demigods.
We should be trampled by moose for trying to “Americanize” poutine. We’re just not ready to admit that you use gravy and cheese curds better than we do, given our superior obesity numbers.
We’re naked-at-a-family-reunion embarrassed for misunderstanding that Margaret Atwood’s The Handmaid’s Tale (which we totally readand didn’t just binge the first three seasons on HULU and call it good) is a work of fiction and not a playbook to Make America Great Again.
We will be haunted for the rest of our nation’s “future” for attacking your sovereignty and calling your Prime Minister “Governor,” and not in a fun, cheeky British way. We know you’re a country and not the 51st state. We don’t even want a 51st state! Just ask Puerto Rico.
We also owe them a letter…
We’re the sorriest we’ve ever been for not being a better friend and ally, and for every cringe moment to come over the next four to infinity years. When things get rough, and we come crying to you for help, please remind us that this is what we voted for when you hand us a copy of our playbook. (We pinky promise to read it this time.)
How’s that for irony? No, seriously, is that ironic? We still aren’t sure.
XOXO,
Your Great White Southern Neighbor
P.S. Enclosed is a friendship bracelet we made for you at the Eras Tour. No, 51 doesn’t mean anything—cross our hearts.