You too, kids. You need to listen to what I have to say.
America, I'm sad because we've had a lot of good times together, since we got hitched in the 60s. Yes, a lot of happy memories. We both had good paying jobs then; the kids were growing up and doing okay. Johnny even went to college.
Okay, I put up with a lot of crazy behavior from you from time to time, like you harassing Mrs. Nam or siccing our Rottweiler on poor Señor Allende, but I did it because I always thought you were basically a good and decent person and meant well.
(more under fold)
You promised me the Moon -- and you delivered! We had a little mid-life crisis in the 80s, but everyone does, and besides, we made up in the 90s.
But, after you had that brawl with Mr. Bin Laden ten years ago, and got punched in the face, you turned increasingly bitter and nasty.
Now, you spend all our money on booze and guns; you sit at home shouting at the TV. You poop on our neighbors' lawns and throw crap all over the neighborhood. Honestly, the entire street used to look up to you, but now they think you’re a drunk and a bully. Some even laugh at you behind your back.
Any day now, the Bank of China is going to foreclose on the mortgage. And look at the kids: Johnny lost his job and can’t get a new one, Timmy is flipping burgers and Janet is turning tricks. Don’t deny it, Janet, I’ve seen your facebook page.
We went to counseling three years ago; at the time, you said you wanted to change; you were ready to change. I believed you, but since then, it’s been the same old shit again and again.
Enough is enough. I can’t be your enabler anymore, America. I can't kick you out because, well, you own the house, after all. But I'm going. For good. This time, I really mean it.
Get help, America, you need it; otherwise, as God is my witness, one dark night of the soul, you’re going to grab one of those guns piled up in the cellar and blow your brains out. Or start another fight with the neighbors.
Good-bye America. May God have mercy on you.