If it weren’t for Canadians, Americans wouldn’t have the electric cooking range, retractable beer carton handle or Wonderbra. If Canadians had never existed, American Thanksgiving

would just be a bunch of naked and sober goons cooking over an open flame with their boobs swinging everywhere. Picture Gorrillas in the Mist with no story arc. For this reason, it upsets me that some of my American friends mock my strict adherence to today’s Canadian Thanksgiving.

My belief is that Americans that make fun of Canadians are incontinent dimwits. (If you’re one of them, that means “sloppy dumbasses”)

I’ve decided that the next time someone utters “aboot” or “ay” after hearing I’m Canadian, I will summon all the powers of Canadian inventions and drop a cobalt bomb on their face.

Imagine me on my snowmobile , blasting Arcade Fire and whacking the offender with a sock full of lithium batteries. They’ll eat Pablum for weeks. If it happens to be you, you’ll see me coming. I’ll be the one with the woolly deer motif sweater and the word “Sorry” knitted into my sleeve.

So in conclusion, on this Canadian Thanksgiving I’m most thankful for the many inventions of my nation and the fact that my American friends are willing to stand in the shadow of a proud people on their special day. For those of you that are coming over, you don’t forge diplomatic bonds with humus.