OK, Mr. president-elect, how about we explore this idea you have of a North American union? Flesh out some of its details? Fly some flags up some flagpoles. See who doesn’t salute and write down their names.

Yes, if push comes to shove — shove being the 81st Airborne — then you’ve certainly got us. You are 100 per cent correct: our “armed” forces are completely inadequate, barely worthy of the adjective. On the other hand, occupying us in January, east of the Rockies at least, won’t be any more popular with your military than it was in the winter of 1775-76, when you briefly owned Montreal. Of course, many potential resisters will be in Florida in January.

Here’s how we make this new takeover work. That debt ceiling that ties your system in knots every year? We don’t really have a debt ceiling. The sky is our debt limit. Above the sky, in fact. The Van Allen belt. The moon and the stars. Think: as high as the debt on your old Atlantic City properties.

So the deal is: we do a leveraged buyout of you. We take on your national debt, which we refloat, without limit, and you become provinces 11 to 60. Or maybe not 60. We could merge some of the smaller states (Rhode Island, Connecticut, Delaware, Maryland) and put the Carolinas, Virginias and Dakotas back together.

But here’s the real deal-maker: you give up your Congress and bring all your folks into our Parliament.

Mr. Trump, you are going to love the Canadian parliamentary system. Yes, in theory you’re already the most powerful man in the world. You have your finger on the world’s biggest nuclear button. And the U.S. military is 1.3 million strong. (By the way: the Royal Canadian-U.S. Marine Corps will look great in bearskin hats, the ultimate “high and tight.”) But in terms of sheer political power, nothing in the world matches up to a Canadian prime minister, who is completely free from the checks and balances you face as president.

I mentioned we don’t limit debt. We also don’t limit prime ministerial tenure. Our longest-serving PM, Mackenzie King — a Mitch McConnell-type: grandmaster shrewd, though also a communer with the dead — went 21 years, 154 days. Counting four years already served as president, that would leave you 17 more years and 155 days, if you go for the record. Yes, you can be prime minister until you’re 95 years old, at which point you might consider handing off to that whip-smart granddaughter-golfer of yours.

Senators giving you trouble? In Canada, you appoint the senators. No need to primary anybody: they owe their jobs to you.

Up here, just one person chooses the cabinet. No advice or consent required from anybody. Yup, correct again: you are that person.

Same thing for Supreme Court judges. More headache minimization. As president, you nominate a candidate and then the U.S. Senate takes over. After the Democrats grill your candidate there’s an up-or-down vote and if your nominee loses, he’s out.

In this country, there are no votes. And no real rules. There are “agreements” about how justices get chosen but as you’re party to all of them, you can tear them up. In recent years, the candidate has appeared before a parliamentary committee — just to answer questions but not to be voted on. It’s all kid-gloves and softballs: you get who you want.

You’ve been joking about the “governor of Canada.” In fact, there already is a governor of Canada — the Governor General. Officially, she’ll be your boss. But, get this, you appoint her. The King — father of your good friend, Prince William — has to approve. But he always does. Yes, you ask the King of England to do something and he does it! How cool is that? And the Governor General always does what you ask, too, except maybe once a century. I know: Putin will not believe it.

As for the legislature, the House of Commons, you yourself sit in it. Yes, you run the executive branch, as you do as president, but you’re also in the legislative branch and you basically run it, too. Sure, there’s a Speaker, but if you have a majority of the seats, you get to choose the Speaker. Lately there has been a secret ballot and a free vote. But that’s just custom and you’re a disrupter.

Interesting thought: could you be on the Supreme Court, too? The prime minister has never actually been on the Supreme Court. But some people say there’s no law against it.

The big deal in the House of Commons is question period. It is made for you, Mr. Trump. Nothing personal, but boisterous boneheaded bombast is your bread and butter, your Big Mac and fries. And that is question period to a tee. The opposition gets to ask you questions. But your Speaker decides what’s fair. And you never really have to answer anything. You can just yell insults back. It’s the part of our government where you’re going to feel most at home.

Senate and House not getting along? No problem. The House rules. The Senate can delay, if that’s what your hand-picked team of senators decides for some reason to do, but delay is all it does. Not getting along with some of your House members? Also no problem. No need to primary anybody. You sign their nomination papers. If you don’t sign, they can’t be in your party.

No, Mr. Trump, I am not puling your leg on any of this. With all these advantages for you, the sweetest deal of all is for us to buy you out. Plus we can throw in the Chateau Laurier hotel, which is maybe a 20-second car ride from your future Parliament Hill office. Feel free to rename it. That way you can have a winter Mar-a-Lago and a summer Mar-a-Lago, one in Canada North and the other where it now is, in Canada South, the former U.S.A.

Financial Post

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