Everybody hungry? Good stuff.
Don’t those pies look amazing? All pumpkin. Yum.
You can thank Doug for that contribution to this party.
Hands off, premier, that’s for later. And anyway, Jason gets first dibs. He put the whipped cream on top, no thanks to you.
Kidding. We all love you Fordie, and won’t hesitate to show it, if we can only seal this deal next week.
This is what our Conservative family is all about, isn’t it? Just being together, licking our chops, and ready to dig in on a nicely browned bird.
Sorry Trudeau, we hardly knew ya, you wonderfully cooked goose—err, turkey.
I just hope you’re really done. Tough to know for sure, all full of stuffing.
May be still a tad pink, I fear. Probably should have turned up the heat, as Kenney suggested, but what the hell. Too late now.
If we’re all feeling queasy later tonight, at least we’ll know who’s responsible. You can blame Hamish. I trusted him to get it right and I think he’s established, he’s no Master Chef.
An especially tricky turkey, that one, right from Day One. Thought I had him in the bag months ago, when I was trying to sack his sorry frozen ass, and then poof—out he popped. Nearly broke my foot!
He was a slippery sucker, but look at him now: fit to be tied and God willing, rendered to perfection. A shadow of his former self.
Let’s all raise a glass: Justin, we couldn’t have done it without you. You literally served yourself up on a platter—and I can’t wait to stick a fork in you.
But before I carve you up, let us bow our heads in grace.
Thank you, Lord, for this Thanksgiving feast that so many worked so hard to deliver, for which I really can’t take much credit.
I’m no good in the kitchen, as you all know. Always tripping over myself at the most awkward moments and stupidly spilling the beans. Like I did on my citizenry.
Though you must admit, I was pretty good at doing the dirty work that no one else wanted to do.
Didn’t mind getting my hands a little bloody, digging deep into the fowl, even if I did tie myself into knots in trying to truss the darn thing.
But enough about me. Tonight, we give thanks for this bounty, while others less fortunate are out in the cold and down on their luck.
Jane and Jody, wherever you are at this moment, our prayers are with you.
Makes my heart sick to think of them out there on their own tonight—homeless, as it were—they, who gave so much to our cause.
Godspeed, you selfless angels. And good luck in finding your way back to our Big House next Monday.
On this night, we are so thankful for those whose prayers were also always with us, through thick and thin.
Postmedia—where would we be without you? Across this great land, it has always been your Rebel yell that is our saving grace.
Double helpings for all of you whose opinions I so value—Conrad, Rex, Andrew, Chris, Colby, John, Warren, Tony, Brian, Andre, Mark, Don,and Lorne—am I missing anyone? You all rock like Nickelback.
To all those right-thinking Soldiers of Truth who fought the good fight—in print, on-air, or through the digital ether – we are eternally grateful for your balance of power. And for our legions of anonymous purveyors of fake news.
And thank you, CBC, for all you’ve done to help make this Thanksgiving so special.
No, don’t laugh. I’m serious.
Just when it looked like the whole Conservative world was beginning to nod off, they shook us awake and gave us new fuel for our fury.
If we pull this thing off on October 21, we’ll owe a special debt of thanks to the Mother Corps. Which I’m beginning to think, just might be worth keeping as our unwitting double agent. Cut to the bone, of course.
Lord, you sure work in mysterious ways.
God bless you, Jagmeet Singh.
No, no, no. Hush now. There’ll be none of that at this table. Put that napkin down, please, Doug.
Charity, people. We’re all good Christians here, in spirit and value, and Jagmeet’s earned our thanks.
I, for one, am grateful for his surprising service to our cause, as I sit at the head of this table, ready to cut, eager to serve and anxious to dish out the meat. White or dark, it’s all good, and I promise, your plates shall not remain empty for long.
Let it never be said that the NDP is dead. May it forever lend more gravy to our table.
Sweet Jesus, we thank you, for somehow getting Jagmeet to now plead for a coalition government that should help us to ensure it never comes to pass.
Are there no end of offerings he might add to our table, in also buttering his own bread? Singh and May: those two small fish that you saw fit to split with such jaw-dropping benevolence to feed our multitudes. It defies belief, and so confirms our faith in you, the Almighty Blue Avenger.
And dear Lord, let it never be said that Green is not good.
For we know, God, that green is GREAT. A few Brussels sprouts never hurt anyone, no matter how hard they are to stomach. And anyway, they’re easy enough to push aside.
Thank you, Elizabeth May, for your vital role in our campaign. May your Green family, too, remain in good health and grow, grow, grow in that fertile ground it covets.
Praise be, Mother Earth: she exists for us.
Pipe down, I’m just about done. Peter, you of all people should know that.
Although, I did want to thank you as well. I am so grateful you didn’t run to lead this party when it could’ve been yours in a cakewalk.
And to think I almost lost to Maxime Bernier. Talk about divine intervention!
How can we ever repay you, Mad Max, for bolting when you did and making this Canada Dad look so reasonable and comforting by comparison?
Lord, that was a stroke of genius. I swear, I’ll never doubt you again.
“Have faith,” you silently whispered in my sleep, to soothe those nightmares of Yves-François Blanchet that made me break out in a cold sweat.
Onward, your Bloc, I say now: it’s Trudeau’s nightmare now.
More power to it and all glory to you, God, for Blanchet’s assault on the Liberals’ Fortress Quebec. Didn’t see that coming, but we’ll take it! Vive la Québec!
Finally, thank you, Lord, for bestowing us with such privilege, ready to lead and serve our entire nation.
We are all your humble servants, and in you we trust, to deliver us from evil and four more years of ignominy.
On this Thanksgiving, we are newly blessed.
Conservatives all. Progressive, no longer. And proudly so.
In your name we pray, up to the task and down for the party; soon to be in again, never to be counted out.
Thank you, God, for restoring our faith in your beneficence and for this hopeful miracle-in-the-making that we all deeply believe will come to pass.
Now, let’s see if I can slice this thing up without cutting off my fingers.
Never my forte, the presentation, but somehow I’ll manage to get ’er done.
First things first, just look at all that stuffing!
Don’t eat it all, Doug, save some for Stephen. I mean, were it not for him, I’d still be selling insurance. Had I got my license, of course. Who knew I’d be so close to becoming Canada’s prime minister instead?
Democracy. You’ve gotta love it.