What? Of course, I’m appalled by the “pussy grabbing.” But I was also appalled when we spent two years discussing blow jobs in the Oval Office and Hillary spent that time blaming her husband’s horrible behavior on some vast “conspiracy.” Some feminist she is.
Wait, you’re not really suggesting that I’m the one who’s out of touch because you have friends back in New York who are afraid? You really think “this country is over”? You were what, nine years old on 9/11? Your great-grandfather died when you were too young to remember, but we used to sit in the deer stand together and gramps would tell me stories about what Guadalcanal was like. Gives me chills thinking about it. You know how old he was at the time? Nineteen. And now kids your age need coloring books and safe spaces and therapy dogs to cope with an election that doesn’t go your way.
Just stop it. Please don’t pretend you know more about this than the rest of us. I know you’re a budding journalist. Really can’t wait until you get the first Pulitzer for producing hot takes in a reclaimed warehouse space. That’s right. Aside from stalking you on Instagram, I read your website. You know that one of your esteemed colleagues wrote an article for your site last week on “How to Talk to Your Trump–Supporting Relatives at Thanksgiving.” You know how that makes the rest of us feel? If the country’s falling apart, maybe it has something to do with an entire generation that’s so politically correct they need written instructions on how to be nice to their own family.
And not to point out the obvious, it’s Thanksgiving for God’s sake. If you’re gonna show up here in such a bad mood and call us racist, maybe, just maybe, just do the rest of us a favor and SHUT UP until you find a reason to be grateful.
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