Observations From Your Neighbor That Lives In The Apartment Above The Crack House

I really get concerned when the neighbor with all the fireworks starts shouting at the clouds again.

From up here, just north of the 49th, America looks less like a superpower and more like a man in cargo shorts arguing with himself in a Walmart parking lot. The rest of the world watches in real time, clutching their coffees and quietly asking, “Is he... okay?” I didn’t want to get involved. Truly. As a Canadian, I’ve been taught sine immigrating here from Belgium that commenting on American politics is like criticizing your cousin’s parenting: it might be deserved, but it rarely ends well. We’re supposed to be polite observers, not loud participants.

But then the Orange One started flirting with the idea of annexing Canada. Not metaphorically. Not accidentally. He’s made noises, repeatedly, about grabbing pieces of our country like they’re poorly marked real estate. At that point, the gloves are off. You start talking about “taking Alberta,” and suddenly every hockey-loving, healthcare-defending Canuck remembers where they put their spine.

So yes, I have opinions. Consider them part of my self-defense strategy.

Once, you could count on America. Brash, loud, obsessed with flags, sure, but decent underneath. Now? The Orange One is livestreaming his own political meltdown and quoting the Constitution like it’s a Yelp review he wrote in anger.

And yes, we’re watching. Not out of smugness, although we are good at that, but because your national mood swings are tectonic. Your decisions send tremors through our politics, our markets, and our Netflix queues. If you have a bad election, we get a weak dollar and another Marvel reboot. This is not a drill. This is our weather forecast.

Let’s talk about Trump, since apparently we still have to. He didn’t just toy with democracy. He stripped it for parts and sold the decals. He turned ICE into something disturbingly close to a personal enforcer squad. Not quite the SS, but not not that either. And all the while, he played the greatest hits: nationalism, paranoia, nostalgia for a country that never existed, and a personal brand of leadership that felt like an infomercial you couldn’t turn off.

And what do the Democrats do? Hold focus groups. Speak calmly. Wave a few documents. Try to manage a revolution with HR memos. While Trump is building bonfires out of institutions, they are offering sensible beige cardigans and mutual respect. Americans are desperate for meaning, and they handed out pamphlets.

We Canadians didn’t want to get involved. Truly. But then I made the mistake of writing something mildly critical. Something like “maybe democracy matters”, and a Trump supporter emailed me to say he found it “disagreeing” that I, a Canadian, had thoughts about his country. He then unsubscribed from... something, and assured me he'd be praying for me.

So we protest in our own quiet, deliberate way. We stop driving down to the States for gas and outlet malls. We avoid U.S. produce at the grocery store. Unless, of course, there’s no other country of origin available, in which case we grumble through the checkout line like it's an act of national sacrifice. What most folks don’t realize is that even if the Brussels sprouts were grown in Chile, the company that owns the growing co-op is probably headquartered in Delaware. So there. We're boycotting with nuance.

That’s a uniquely American move. Rage-quit the conversation, but with a side of spiritual diplomacy. Like yelling "Get lost!" and then mailing a sympathy card.

But look, this isn’t about one man or one party. It’s about a country that’s lost its inside voice. Every disagreement is a showdown. Every headline is a crisis. The people I feel for most aren’t the pundits or the trolls. They’re the exhausted citizens trying to live normal lives while surrounded by political cosplay and megaphone-level hysteria.

You’ve got Americans who coach Little League, care for elderly parents, work shifts they can barely afford, and still find the energy to donate to food banks. And all they get in return is a bipartisan demand that they pick a side, stay angry, and prepare for the collapse of civilization every Tuesday.

What’s tragic is that these people deserve better. Better leaders, better choices, a better story. One where the future isn’t just “less bad” than the other guy’s nightmare. One that actually says what America is for, not just what it’s against.

Until then, we’ll be here. Watching. Not interfering. Just... noticing.

We’ve got a kettle on. And opinions, sure. But we usually wait until we’re asked. Or until someone emails first.

If you found this useful, maddening, or just a touch too accurate, feel free to reply, share, or mutter about it silently in traffic. I’ll take any of the above.