by Ben Crystal
Dear Democratic Party,
I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but you just haven’t left me with any other choice. We’ve been together for decades now — since the days of President Roosevelt (the “New Deal” one, not the “Man in the Arena” one), if not earlier. I’ve put up with your madness because I wanted to make it work. After all, we do share a home. But this just isn’t working out anymore. And I just wanted to let you know why.
The money is a real problem. I work hard to keep us afloat; yet I can’t seem to make enough to satisfy you. And the things on which you spend my hard-earned dough really don’t work for me. It’s bad enough that you spend my cash like a high-school girl who got ahold of Daddy’s American Express Gold Card, but your spending habits don’t even make sense. Obamacare? So now, not only do I have to cover your doctor’s bills, but the IRS is going to break down the front door if I refuse? And after all that, some stuffed suit from the Department of Health and Human Services is going to means-test my viability? I’m sorry, honey; that doesn’t work for me.
And your pal Bernanke and his “quantitative easing” are making the cash I do earn worth less than the commemorative copies of those Michael Moore DVDs you keep buying. Also: Have you ever considered staying at a regular hotel? You know the Holiday Inn Express may not offer the same high-thread-count sheets as the Four Seasons, but it does have a nice breakfast buffet — and there’s a rumor that staying there can boost your brainpower a bit. You should consider that. And there are perfectly fashionable clothes out there that don’t cost as much as the rest of us make in a month. Some of them even fit — a tip you should share with your BFF, Michelle Obama.
I’m also not comfortable with some of the people with whom you hang out. That Barry Obama guy is a perfect example. He’s never held down a real job in his life, and you think he’s the guy to lead private enterprise back to prosperity? Have you even listened to this guy read a teleprompter? I’ve heard more sense on “The View.” He actually believes in something he calls “redistribution” and the rest of us call “theft.” I can dig your affinity for the whole “retro” thing, but why can’t you just hearken back to the 1980s instead of the 1880s? For someone who pretends to call herself “progressive,” you’re about as forward-looking as the AFL-CIO.
And we need to talk about those clowns, too. Union thugs are not simply bad news, doll. They’re bad guys. I know they seem like fun, but people who cross them have a tendency to meet severe fates. Look at what happened to those old folks who protested Obamacare. For that matter, look at what happened to General Motors. For that matter, look at what happened to Jimmy Hoffa — and he was one of their guys.
The union thugs aren’t even the heaviest hitters around. I know none of your little pals like to talk about it, but that Eric Holder is some piece of work. He’s the top law enforcement official in the United States, and he perjured himself in front of Congress as easily as Obama skips national security briefings to play 18 at Congressional. You really ought to think about the effect an association with a man who thinks engineering and then covering up the murder a Federal agent can have on your reputation.
Then, there are those gals from Planned Parenthood. As I told you before, if you want to vacuum babies out of your uterus, you’re welcome to it. But I can’t be a part of that. I don’t glean any joy from upsetting you; but I’d rather risk your wrath than His, if you get my drift.
And, baby, the fact that you’ll let someone like Joe Biden anywhere near you freaks me out. This is the guy you’re comfortable allowing within one heartbeat of “The Button,” and I’m not convinced he can spell either “heartbeat” or “button.” I’m actually not even convinced he can spell “the.” I’m willing to admit he can be somewhat entertaining, but so can the better Vegas floor shows. And no one thinks the girls with the small clothing and the fans should be one office down from nuclear Armageddon.
I won’t even get into those sock puppets at the Democrat Channel (MSNBC) and the rest of the corporate media flunkies you listen to. The right has some borderline personalities of their own, but your “news” sources are about as informative as those late-night infomercials. Honey, Chris Matthews is absolutely certifiable. Between Chrissie and the rest of the Obama Protection League claiming everything anyone says is racist, we’re all going to end up with a smaller vocabulary than one of those so-called “Occupy” fleabags after a turn in the “hemp tent.”
You also really don’t do well with our neighbors. If someone tries to burn down the house, you don’t give him my money and hope that encourages him to find a new hobby. And you certainly don’t blame me for his lack of compunction. Likewise, blaming our friendlier neighbors because the hoodlums down the street can’t behave themselves is poor form.
We’ve had some good times, baby. But we’ve clearly grown apart. I believe in freedom, justice and American exceptionalism; and you’re a Democrat. It’s time we see other people. I’m going to stay here, since I paid for the place. You should check out some places where the folks share your interests. I’m thinking North Korea. I wish I could say “it’s not you; it’s me;” but I really can’t. It isn’t me; it’s really you.
Good luck,
Ben
Dear Democratic Party,
I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but you just haven’t left me with any other choice. We’ve been together for decades now — since the days of President Roosevelt (the “New Deal” one, not the “Man in the Arena” one), if not earlier. I’ve put up with your madness because I wanted to make it work. After all, we do share a home. But this just isn’t working out anymore. And I just wanted to let you know why.
The money is a real problem. I work hard to keep us afloat; yet I can’t seem to make enough to satisfy you. And the things on which you spend my hard-earned dough really don’t work for me. It’s bad enough that you spend my cash like a high-school girl who got ahold of Daddy’s American Express Gold Card, but your spending habits don’t even make sense. Obamacare? So now, not only do I have to cover your doctor’s bills, but the IRS is going to break down the front door if I refuse? And after all that, some stuffed suit from the Department of Health and Human Services is going to means-test my viability? I’m sorry, honey; that doesn’t work for me.
And your pal Bernanke and his “quantitative easing” are making the cash I do earn worth less than the commemorative copies of those Michael Moore DVDs you keep buying. Also: Have you ever considered staying at a regular hotel? You know the Holiday Inn Express may not offer the same high-thread-count sheets as the Four Seasons, but it does have a nice breakfast buffet — and there’s a rumor that staying there can boost your brainpower a bit. You should consider that. And there are perfectly fashionable clothes out there that don’t cost as much as the rest of us make in a month. Some of them even fit — a tip you should share with your BFF, Michelle Obama.
I’m also not comfortable with some of the people with whom you hang out. That Barry Obama guy is a perfect example. He’s never held down a real job in his life, and you think he’s the guy to lead private enterprise back to prosperity? Have you even listened to this guy read a teleprompter? I’ve heard more sense on “The View.” He actually believes in something he calls “redistribution” and the rest of us call “theft.” I can dig your affinity for the whole “retro” thing, but why can’t you just hearken back to the 1980s instead of the 1880s? For someone who pretends to call herself “progressive,” you’re about as forward-looking as the AFL-CIO.
And we need to talk about those clowns, too. Union thugs are not simply bad news, doll. They’re bad guys. I know they seem like fun, but people who cross them have a tendency to meet severe fates. Look at what happened to those old folks who protested Obamacare. For that matter, look at what happened to General Motors. For that matter, look at what happened to Jimmy Hoffa — and he was one of their guys.
The union thugs aren’t even the heaviest hitters around. I know none of your little pals like to talk about it, but that Eric Holder is some piece of work. He’s the top law enforcement official in the United States, and he perjured himself in front of Congress as easily as Obama skips national security briefings to play 18 at Congressional. You really ought to think about the effect an association with a man who thinks engineering and then covering up the murder a Federal agent can have on your reputation.
Then, there are those gals from Planned Parenthood. As I told you before, if you want to vacuum babies out of your uterus, you’re welcome to it. But I can’t be a part of that. I don’t glean any joy from upsetting you; but I’d rather risk your wrath than His, if you get my drift.
And, baby, the fact that you’ll let someone like Joe Biden anywhere near you freaks me out. This is the guy you’re comfortable allowing within one heartbeat of “The Button,” and I’m not convinced he can spell either “heartbeat” or “button.” I’m actually not even convinced he can spell “the.” I’m willing to admit he can be somewhat entertaining, but so can the better Vegas floor shows. And no one thinks the girls with the small clothing and the fans should be one office down from nuclear Armageddon.
I won’t even get into those sock puppets at the Democrat Channel (MSNBC) and the rest of the corporate media flunkies you listen to. The right has some borderline personalities of their own, but your “news” sources are about as informative as those late-night infomercials. Honey, Chris Matthews is absolutely certifiable. Between Chrissie and the rest of the Obama Protection League claiming everything anyone says is racist, we’re all going to end up with a smaller vocabulary than one of those so-called “Occupy” fleabags after a turn in the “hemp tent.”
You also really don’t do well with our neighbors. If someone tries to burn down the house, you don’t give him my money and hope that encourages him to find a new hobby. And you certainly don’t blame me for his lack of compunction. Likewise, blaming our friendlier neighbors because the hoodlums down the street can’t behave themselves is poor form.
We’ve had some good times, baby. But we’ve clearly grown apart. I believe in freedom, justice and American exceptionalism; and you’re a Democrat. It’s time we see other people. I’m going to stay here, since I paid for the place. You should check out some places where the folks share your interests. I’m thinking North Korea. I wish I could say “it’s not you; it’s me;” but I really can’t. It isn’t me; it’s really you.
Good luck,
Ben
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