What it Means to be Canadian.

I'm a sophisticated urbanite, and a prairie farmer.
I'm a Newfie fisherman and a hot-shot commodities trader!
I was a lumberjack, and a fur trader. I have slept in an igloo, eaten blubber, and although I don’t own a dog sled, I do have a ski-doo.
I do know Jimmy and Sally, Suzie is my ex, and they’re all assholes.
I have a crooked Prime Minister, not a President.
I speak neither English or French properly. I don’t pronounce it “about” or “a boot”; I just say “bout”.
I can proudly sew my country’s flag on my backpack, because with the taxes I pay I live out of my backpack when traveling the world.
I believe in peace keeping, not policing, even though we got rid of our peacekeepers to buy more police.
Diversity, not assimilation (unless I go to Quebec)is our motto, and the beaver tastes like chicken and makes a nice fur coat.
I am well liked and respected where ever I go, even though I am sometimes mistaken for an American.
A toque is a hat, a chesterfield is a couch (where I sleep), and it is pronounced ”Z”, not “zed” or “zee”.
Canada is the second highest taxed landmass, the first nation of bleeding hearts, and coldest part of North America and a place I would never trade for anywhere else!

My name is Joe, and I am a Canadian.

(With thanks to "I Am (Also) Canadian!")