Thursday, September 20, 2012


Hey, Facebook friend, one more Birther crack and we’re through. I realize we haven't spoken since high school, but when did you become such a shit? Last I remember, we were drinking Tab and dancing to Pat Benatar. Now you’re posting vile, quick-fire responses to the Fox News survey question: Are all Democrats Christian-hating, lazy, crackheads on welfare?
          Back in the day, we had such fun racing to Taco Bell during twenty minute lunch periods. Now you’re loading up on waffle fries at Chick-fil-A to protest “the gays” and threatening to homeschool your kids since the evil First Lady forces poisoned apples down their throats.  When we went treat-or-treating at pro-choice Barry Goldwater’s house, I don’t recall you throwing eggs, yelling “baby killer” when they handed out candy, but now you type it all the time.  And when did you become such a racist? I know you didn’t get your warped view staying up late with me on Saturday nights to watch Eddie Murphy in our totally whitewashed neighborhood, so who taught you to hate? Your parents always seemed so nice.
Shut up, already, about the lame stream media. You graduated from high school. You know how to read. Spewing “Obama is a Hitler-worshipping Socialist Muslim” every night just makes you sound like an idiot. Try to come up with an actual fact and quit repeating ditto-headed talking points like “voter fraud is the greatest problem of our time.” Remember science class? Evolution actually happened. So did global warming. Did you ever hear my mom shout, “Girls, hurry, get inside, there’s a haboob coming?” No? Neither did I. 
Do you know anybody that lost a home or couldn’t afford medicine for the kids after a job was shipped to China? Just because we grew up in suburbia paradise, trust me, it's safe to get out of the bubble every now and then, climb down from your blurry Citizens United merry-go-round, riding up and down on fancy ballet horsies named Pfizer, Exxon and Chase and take a good look around.
            It’s not like I hate Republicans. Some of my best friends are Republicans. We may disagree, but there’s still love and respect between us, while all your redeeming qualities seem to be stuck back in the 80s. But at least here in fake Facebookland I can stop the ALL-CAPS YELLING with just one mouse click. So, for now, you know where you can put your NObama yard sign, right? Have fun at your post-election pity party and good luck with that whole “moving to Canada” thing. Maybe you can fly down for our thirtieth reunion next year. The election will be over and, if the world hasn’t ended, we can talk about the old times. But until then,


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