FOR REAL: Make Celine Dion and Drake co-prime ministers of Canada

This is the latest instalment in a series of opinion columns by Anne T. Donahue.

The Billboard Music Awards are over, but dreams can last forever.

This past weekend, Celine Dion and Drake crystallized years of my own personal manifestations and vision boards: they met and got along famously.

With his head bowed out of respect and reverence, Aubrey went on to share plans of a future Celine Dion tattoo before recruiting his dad Dennis to complete the trifecta for a photo op. It was simple, beautiful, and spiritually fulfilling. And most important, it also raised the question: why aren't Celine Dion and Drake our co-prime ministers??

In short, we deserve joy. For one goddamn minute.

You know we deserve it. We deserve these familiar faces and their storied histories. We deserve a female prime minister who isn't Kim Campbell (sorry), and male prime minister with the confidence to drop a mixed tape on a Saturday night at dinner and subsequently monopolize evening all plans and conversations with deep dives into Passionfruit.

In short, we deserve joy. For one goddamn minute.

I know neither Drake nor Celine boast proper political experience. I know that neither is particularly political at all. But I also don't care. Between Celine's ability to articulate the dynamics of emotionally charged relationships and Drake's affinity for navigating the complex Top 40 landscape, they harbour enough empathy and intellect between them that they would do just fine.

Drizzy's Scorpio temperament would be balanced by Celine's years of parenting; her decades of divadom would show her co-PM that his passion needn't be translated into tantrums, but into policy. Dion, on the other hand, would be charged by Aubrey's youth, his earnestness and sincerity. They would trust their guts and their hearts and the music they would also spend time collaborating on.

Only an idiot politician would challenge them.

Because Drake and Celine would put us first. They'd put on their puffed sleeves and crisp button-ups and give us exactly what we wanted: various renditions of My Heart Will Go On followed by fulfilled campaign promises that distribute and equalize wealth among Canadians. They would nurture the arts and ensure young people had vast avenues through which to tap into their creativity.

Some citizens would flinch at the idea of My Heart Will Go On being Canada's new national anthem. There'd be too many turtlenecks. But also, who cares?

Drake would pick up every phone call, personally. Celine would use her voice — singing and speaking — to demand reform and attention. She would not be talked over, and she would not be ignored. A shared passion for performance would prevent complacency. They'd usher in change because they'd want to be recognized for their contributions to this country.

Plus, there'd be owls. So many owls.

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Of course, it wouldn't be perfect: most of us (including Drake) would get distracted by visits from music's best and brightest. Some citizens would flinch at the idea of My Heart Will Go On being Canada's new national anthem. There'd be too many turtlenecks. But also, who cares? Because if a failing reality television star can become president of the United States, two beloved pop stars can lift each other up through the levels of Canadian governance and bless our nation with their combined strengths.

Or, at the very least, they would duet sometimes.

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