Just Say You're Canadian

I do spoken word every Monday night. Mostly I do comedy since my political views are too extreme for the average coffee shops. (Most coffee drinkers believe the gov't will protect them from the upcoming zombie plague. How naive is that?) Now, I love Canadians. I've been to Vancouver many times since I used to live in Seattle. The people are gorgeous, and they're genuinely kind. They also have a more liberated view of sexuality, which I wish Americans would share. That said, they're also good for being the butt of jokes. Sorry, Canadians. I love you all, but I have to do this. It's a joke, don't take it seriously.

Since doing spoken word, I've done pieces on what to do if you have undead in your basement, boycotting Star Wars III because Jar Jar Binks doesn't brutally die, and this is the 3rd week I've done it. You'll have to imagine it live. The words themselves are okay, but I'm kind of more a master of delivery than words when it comes to comedy.
This piece is called Just Say You're Canadian:

Just say you're Canadian

Any of you ever travel to a foreign country?
I love America, and I love being an American, but I'd be the first
to admit that when Americans leave the borders, we somehow
magically transform from homo sapiens sapiens into homo sapiens
jackass americanus. Now I have an idea how to rectify this. It
will involve a conspiracy of the highest magnitude. Just say
you're Canadian.

However, for the duty of your country, proudly boast you're
Canadian, then be the biggest, most abrasive jackass you can possibly be,
making the normal American tourist look like Miss Manners.

Being Canadian is easy. We already look like Canadians. Just make
sure you remember to tuck in your shirt, remember to wear socks,
then say "eh?" after every three sentences and you'll have being Canadian
down.

So you're in a friendly little coffee shop in France, yeah I know
friendly and France together would be an oxymoron, but hear me out.
Grab the nearest waiter. "Excuse me Garcon, Boy! O est le bain? I
said O est le bain! Geez, don't you speak French? You know how many
good red-blooded Canadians died in World War II bailing your sorry asses
out? And do I hear a thanks? Ungrateful bastards. No Canadian dollar tip
for you!" Of course the Canadian dollar isn't worth anything, but
they don't know that. They'd be lucky if they'd ever seen a Canadian
dollar before.

So you're in a margarita bar in Cancun. "I said no salt! Did you hear
me say no salt? Yeah, they heard. They're just Canadianophobes.
Bring me another margarita right now and don't expect me to pay for it
either! You come to Canada and we don't treat you like this."

Ten years later, after the damage is done, and the smoke has cleared,
you walk into a foreign restaurant. "Excuse me, are you an American?"

"Yeah, why?"

"Thank God!"