JANUARY 11 — So, the hypothetical’s on the table: if Canada becomes the 51st state, what kind of state would we be? Blue, red, or swing? It’s a good question—one that deserves the kind of careful consideration Canadians usually reserve for picking the perfect bag of milk or debating Tim Hortons versus literally any other coffee.
Let’s start with the obvious: we’re bigger than all y’all combined. That’s right, the Great White North isn’t just a poetic nickname; it’s a statement of geographic dominance. Canada’s landmass is larger than the entire United States, including Alaska, Texas, and whatever tiny New England states you have up there that seem like they could fit inside a Moose Jaw hockey rink. So, if size matters (and let’s be real, Americans love things big), we’d demand the most electoral votes of any state. California, with its paltry 55 votes? Cute. Canada would come in swinging with, what, 200? 300? The entire electoral college would be ours to command.
Picture it: American politicians grovelling in Quebec for the French-speaking vote, offering poutine subsidies in Manitoba, or trying to win over Vancouverites by pretending to love kale smoothies and cycling. Alberta would become the ultimate battleground, our very own Texas-meets-Midwest. Oil rigs and cowboy hats everywhere, while someone sneaks kombucha into the local Tim Hortons.
But let’s get back to the real question: are we red, blue, or swing? Honestly, we’d be a nightmare for American political analysts. Imagine explaining to a Fox News host why Saskatchewan, a province with more tractors than people, votes like Berkeley when it comes to universal healthcare. Or why PEI, which is practically one big potato farm, would rather have a carbon tax than lose its shoreline to climate change. We’d be the swing state to end all swing states—confusing, unpredictable, and just a little too polite about it.
And here’s the real kicker: we’d control everything. With our massive population (well, relatively speaking—we’re no Wyoming), vast resources, and cultural dominance (Ryan Reynolds and maple syrup? You’re welcome), we’d run the show. Want to win the presidency? Better bring a double-double to the debate stage and know how to spell “colour”. The Electoral College would be our playground, and America would have to dance to our snowy tune.
Now, about the military. As of now, our navy consists mostly of seals, killer whales, and a couple of enthusiastic kayakers. But overnight, we’d inherit the world’s most powerful military. Let’s be honest, the image of Canadian troops rolling into battle with politeness and beavers would be amazing. Imagine a Canadian general shouting, “Excuse us, but we’ll be taking your capital now, eh? Hope that’s not a problem!” The U.S. Army could use a little humility and hockey.
And what about Trump? You just know he’d try to rename provinces to something ridiculous. Newfoundland would become “Trumpistan,” Alberta would be “Trumpertown,” and poor Nunavut would probably end up as “No-Trump-It.” But we’d let him have his fun, knowing we’ve got the real power. After all, he’d still have to woo Canadians for votes, and something tells me his “grab ’em by the syrup” strategy wouldn’t go over well here.
So, why not? Let’s do it, Canucks! We go from apologising for being in everyone’s way to calling the shots in Washington. We’d keep our healthcare, keep our hockey, and finally get Americans to understand the joy of a proper winter. The only question left is this: how do we make sure the first White House state dinner serves poutine and butter tarts?
