My Dearest Martha,
I pen these words to you from the very fringe of Montreal, a city now steeped in the chaos of our esteemed President Donald Trump’s valiant, albeit stalled, campaign against the insidious Canadian aggression. The battle lines, tragically, are drawn amidst a barrage of moose-launched missiles, a testament to the depravity of our northern adversaries.
I trust that this missive finds you and the children in good health and shielded from the subtle yet pervasive influence of hockey propaganda. I myself am still among the living, continuing the good fight, though I confess my heart aches for you all. The sweet, cloying aroma of maple-syrup traps hangs heavy in the air, a constant reminder of the devious nature of our foes. These traps, at times, seem to outnumber the attack-beaver brigades unleashed upon our ranks daily. It is an exhausting war, Martha, a war fought against politeness and pastries as much as it is against projectiles.
Despite the hardships, I remain steadfast in my belief in our mission. We ventured north to staunch the flow of fentanyl into our beloved nation. I recall Marie-Eve Breton, a spokeswoman for the Royal Canadian Mounted Police, offering a different perspective to the New York Times. She stated, and I quote, "There is limited to no evidence or data from law enforcement agencies in the U.S. or Canada to support the claim that Canadian produced fentanyl is an increasing threat to the U.S." A blatant lie, Martha, surely spoken from the lips of a Canadian eager to drown America in a sea of synthetic opioids.
And then there was Canadian public safety minister David McGuinty, who dared to suggest, "At some points of time in Canada, based on per capita population, there are more Canadians dying from fentanyl than there are Americans dying from fentanyl, a point that we made very clear to the White House." Such deception! A cunning attempt to divert attention from their nefarious plot. I simply could not stand idly by while Canada undermined the safety and security of our homeland.
These slippery, murderous Canadian hosers, as the President so eloquently calls them, are masters of deception. You see, Martha, when forced to choose between believing our longstanding allies in Canada and factual information, or the man who valiantly exposed the fraudulent 2020 presidential election, my choice was obvious. I placed my unwavering faith in President Trump.
After all, he was the one with the fortitude to impose painful tariffs on Canada in response to the almost nonexistent issue of opioids entering the United States through Canada. A true patriot, he saw through their facade of politeness and recognized the threat lurking beneath.
I still remember Trump’s economic advisor Kevin Hassett proclaiming, “We launched a drug war, not a trade war,” while alleging, without a shred of evidence, the existence of clandestine Canadian fentanyl labs. The audacity! It is a grave insult to suggest that America would ever invade another nation based on fabricated claims of hidden laboratories manufacturing deadly substances.
And do you recall how I felt when Mark Carney, Canada’s prime minister, scoffed at the notion of his nation becoming America’s 51st state? He declared, "Never, ever, will be part of America in any way, shape, or form.” Martha, you understand better than anyone what an honor it would be for any country to be annexed by our great nation. I could never forgive such a slight, such a rejection of the American dream.
No, Martha, this invasion was ordained, just, and morally sound. I joined the cause to safeguard you, the children, and all Americans from these seemingly benign yet undeniably evil foreigners. I vowed to protect our way of life from the Canadian influence that, like maple syrup, threatens to coat our nation in a sugary film of pacifism.
And fear not for my well-being, my love. I remain in high spirits, despite our failure to uncover a vast conspiracy to flood America with fentanyl. In fact, we have rarely progressed more than a hundred yards without stumbling upon a Tim Horton’s, where the staff graciously offer us complimentary maple cream doughnuts. They are SO dastardly nice, it is almost comical. I cannot help but suspect they are attempting to lull us into a false sense of security, perhaps even attempting to subtly introduce fentanyl into our unsuspecting ranks.
Rumors of protests by liberals and Canadian sympathizers in America have reached my ears. I hear whispers of them decrying President Trump as a “fascist” or accusing him of invading Canada to “impress Vladimir Putin” or “build a casino in Saskatchewan.” Nonsense, I say!
I refuse to be swayed by such preposterous claims. I am here, alongside my fellow soldiers, to liberate America from the scourge of Canadian humility (and, yes, perhaps fentanyl as well) and to restore America’s greatness by incorporating Canada into our fold. I think.
Give my love to the children, and continue to instill in them a healthy disdain for Nickelback. I miss you all dearly. Please forgive the sticky syrup stains adorning this parchment. I vow, as God is my witness, to never consume pancakes again.
With all my love and unwavering devotion,
Your beloved husband,
Clyde.
