Friday, March 17, 2006

an open statement to senate democrats

Yeah, it's a statement instead of a letter. You want to know why? Because I couldn't think of any salutation other than "You spineless, shortsighted fuckwads". And that's not any kind of greeting to use if you want your letter read. So I opted for a statement instead. Here it goes...

Okay, people, now you've done it. With all your ineffectual, namby-pamby, fraidy-cat fear of rocking the boat, you've actually chalked up quite an accomplishment: you've made me hate my own party. And that's not an easy thing to do. Being a Democrat is hard-wired into my DNA. My grandfather, who emigrated here from Eastern Europe, used to tell us: "Look at every side of the issue objectively, and then vote Democratic." My hatred of the Republicans was bred into me. It's reflexive; they are the enemy. They are the opponents, thus, we behave in opposition to them...but not to our own goddam people.

I cannot, in good conscience, associate myself with a party that cuts down and abandons the one soul in the Senate who has the *gasp* audacity, the temerity, the complete and utter insolence to suggest that maybe THE GUY WHO HOLDS THE HIGHEST OFFICE IN THE LAND OUGHT TO BE MADE ACCOUNTABLE FOR PISSING ALL OVER THE CONSTITUTION. Good God, the way you people are reacting, you'd think poor Feingold rollerbladed into the Capitol building wearing a sequined Speedo and an "I heart Sodomy" t-shirt.

How could you hang him out to dry like that? What do you possibly think there is to gain? Almost three-quarters of the country think Bush lied about Iraq and should be impeached for it. And all Feingold was suggesting was censure. Censure, people. Issuing a statement that says that maybe George ought to think about, oh, THE LAW OF THE LAND before he issues a wiretap on an American citizen. Good Christ, I've bottlefed orphaned 3-day-old kittens who showed more bravery than you poor sorry bastards.

So, here's the deal. Not only do you not get any more money from me. That's a given, ever since Alito. But now, you owe me money. Yeah, you heard me right. You owe me for every doorbell I've rung, every cold call I've made while phonebanking, and every single dollar I've given you over the years, with interest. Plus, I expect to be reimbursed for every bottle of wine and antidepressants that I've purchased since 2004, since you're directly responsible for my needing them. Oh, and you're going to have to cough up the full price for the pills because I've got no health insurance...nice going there, too.

You'll be receiving phone calls on a weekly basis until you arrange payment. Please feel free to send a check or money order, or just give me your credit card number. My people will take care of the rest. And in the case of nonpayment, I'll just turn your names over my collection agency. It's not like you've got bankruptcy protection to fall back on anymore.

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