Today’s title could easily have been, “Honey, We Need to Talk,” or “It’s Not Me, GOP; It’s You.” I’m ending this toxic relationship via this public Dear John letter.
This is the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, (except maybe for that “Peter Piper picked a peck of pickled peppers” thing), but you’ve lost that loving feeling and I want out. No, I am not sleeping with the enemy! Believe me, Hillary, Pelosi, Cuomo, Schumer … none of them are my types. I just prefer to be single and unattached for now; hopefully we can remain friends, for the sake of the kids.
You’ve become more and more controlling, telling me who I can and can’t see — even isolating me from my family, a typical abuser red flag. You’ve managed to brainwash many of those I love, but I see right through your mean-spirited, hypocritical ways. Those shameful, new friendships you’ve cultivated was the final straw for me. I’ll pick my own friends, thank you.
I first became suspicious in our courting stage when Jimmy Carter became the enemy. I didn’t vote for him, but as part of our “Christian family,” I was disturbed by your constant denigration of the most committed Christian ever to occupy the White House.
I had read the pre-presidency book, “The Simple Faith of Jimmy Carter,” and thought we loved those born-again, non-politician types. Yet the vitriol to this simple peanut farmer remains today. The man is 93, still working tirelessly for charities like Habitat for Humanity, and I should be ashamed for loving him?!!
Then came Bill Clinton and his disgusting lapse of moral judgment. Still, I resisted your mob mentality and focused on his conservative-friendly, politically prudent performance, worried our foreign enemies would capitalize on the national distraction and your obsession to crucify.
Even with your investments going through the roof, you gave that stern sermon, “So what if his policies are working, what really matters to Christians are morals and ethics.” You think I don’t notice that sermon has now been dramatically revised?
Then your guillotine dropped onto our honorable, true-blue friend who served our family in the most sacrificial way. As I vigorously campaigned for this Godsend war hero, the family repeatedly disrespected him. Back when I could still stomach loudmouth Hannity, I listened in horror as Ann Coulter told the grinning host, “I’d vote for Hillary before I’d vote for John McCain.”
HUH? Most of our war hawk uncles hid behind countless deferments from military service and we’re shunning the servant who chose four more years of Hanoi Hilton torture over an early release unless his suffering comrades were included? Your newest love interest might call that “weak,” but I call it compassionate, uncommon valor.
Now that humble, gracious hero who Dana Perino recounts, “Everyone respected him; he never took a vacation during recess, always going to visit the troops instead” is gone. But everyone didn’t respect him! Your new BFF unapologetically refused to call him a hero and continued to ridicule and denigrate him even while John was in the hospital fighting the brain cancer that soon took him.
So why would the McCains, a big part of our family, want the Trumpster at his funeral? Should another GOP favorite son, George W. pass, I’d lay odds the Bushes will make that same “don’t show up” request. Not only did he call the Iraq war “the biggest foreign policy blunder ever,” but insisted George lied to take us there. We both know when the Dems next door said those same words, you wanted to burn their house down.
But it’s not only your betrayal of our finest (John Kasich would have saved our relationship) and embracement of the vilest that chased me from your arms, but we’re now even spiritually estranged.
I’m losing credibility with agnostic friends who ask, “How can your family lovingly adopt a man the exact opposite of the Bible you tell me to read?” I don’t know what to tell them, and look guilty by association.
During this separation, I’ll retain my married name for tax purposes. Should you become you again, there’s still a chance for us, but you’ve got a tall mountain to climb, mister. I think it was The Who who sang, “… I won’t get fooled again!”
Please don’t hate me, but I just can’t be with someone I don’t respect. I don’t even know you anymore. Formerly Yours, Rhino.