I'm a brave Canadian. And I will resist delicious orange juice.

For the greater good, I am taking a stand against tasty goodness. For the health of my nation, I will sacrifice my body's need for vitamin C. In response to the harsh tariffs on my country, I solemnly declare that I — a brave and heroic Canadian — will be resisting the sweet, delicious taste of Florida orange juice. 

I'm sorry it's come to this, America, but things are getting straight-up vicious. Until further notice, not one drop of isolationist OJ will touch my neighbour-loving lips. And trust me, this will hurt me more than it will hurt you.

 Orange juice is the best juice. My tastebuds are tantalized by those sun-kissed oranges, just like the ads say. With every magical sip, I can tell that the sun really did kiss those oranges, and now the oranges are kissing me; starting with gentle, loving pecks, then quickly escalating to a full-on, sensual, citrus makeout session. For years, orange juice and I have enjoyed a thrilling, cross-border romp. But no more. I'm breaking up with you today, OJ!

Or maybe next week. I still have to finish that carton in the fridge. 

As soon as it's empty, you'll feel the pain, America — oh yes, you will. A little bit of pain with every sip that I don't sip. I will exercise the full extent of my power, even though it's just a tiny drop in the ocean-sized vats of orange juice that was freshly squeezed 36 months ago, then stored in a Florida warehouse.

 Don't you worry, this doesn't mean that I will boycott American-owned entertainment and social media — golly no, I can't live without that. But I sure can live without orange juice, especially when revenge has a similar sweet taste.

 Still, I look forward to the day when this is all over. When, once again, I can dig in to an all-you-can-eat pulp buffet. I will raise an overflowing glass of OJ, gripping it excitedly with my sticky, juicy fingers and say, "Sorry about that, America, but you really pushed me to the edge."