Listen hon,
It's time that we faced facts, it's time for us to part ways. This little experiment giving you rights and treating you like adults simply isn't working for us anymore. Look what you've done with this voting thingy... you're all over the map and while you've shown that we can mislead and divide you against your own best interests, our master plan is coming along well enough for us to end this joke of a relationship.
Why now?
Well, we're already in the process of rolling back union and workplace laws that date back a hundred years, what else took place about that time, can't remember? Well that's okay, I'm sure it will come to you eventually. As you can see, we have enough allies on enough statewide benches that pretty much allow us to do whatever we want. We managed to keep that glass ceiling in place just long enough to keep you off the high courts and out of the corporate boardrooms so that while you've been reaching for the brass ring, we've been able to keep that goal of true power just outta reach. Plus, this is how we roll. We make you think that we love ya, well we do, but you see that young secretary really makes my head spin and lets face it darlin', looking out for you old gals is not something that is on our agenda.
Look at us, we're well on our way to having you classified as chattel again, the womb has more rights than you do, and we're making sure that you even lose the right to say what happens inside there. Naturally we've managed to twist the issue to imply that since we can't trust you with a choice, what can we trust you with? My guess is that we'll still let you tend to the hearth and teach the young ones, at least until lil' Janey down the street grows up enough to take your place in the bedroom and in the kitchen. It's all supply side economics dear, soon we'll have enough wealth to realize our Dr. Strangelove fantasies and as such, we'll have to downsize you out of our future equations. Maybe there's a nice Arab fella I can introduce you to, he says that he finds blondes exotic.
Don't be mad, you know that you still want us because power is such an incredibly adept aphrodisiac, unfortunately, we still can't trust you with your own bodies. So you'll just have to trust us instead.
Now that we've had this talk, dry your eyes and go into the kitchen and make me a sammich, will ya hon?
Thanks,
The Republican Party