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Dispatches from the cold civil war

“My dearest Martin:  As I march on Washington, D.C. I fear our domestic life in Montclair will no longer be the same when I return. I have already walked for nearly four hours. Cassandra knitted us all kitty-cat hats, so we are warm and resolute in our resistance to evil. A man next to me is dressed, in solidarity, as a nappy vagina. Still, I worry that the Union cannot hold. Pray that I am home by noon tomorrow so you can make your tennis date with Alan. Bathe the children and do not watch the new Top Chef until I get home. Your loving wife, Elizabeth.”

“My darling Cassandra: Today I punched a Nazi in the face while he was doing an interview about a frog meme with Australian National Television. I recognized him from the Internet, so I put the Black Bloc balaclava over my face and hauled away. Later, we broke the windows of a Starbucks, set a limousine on fire, and tore up a bus billboard with Steve Harvey’s picture on it. I do not know when I will return, as Mark’s Corolla is having transmission problems. I may just crash at Lisa’s house, this girl I knew from college. She’s cool, don’t worry. Please remember to set my punch video to music and make sure the punch lands on the snare. Your noncommittal boyfriend, Luke.”

“My most cherished Ariel: With ample chip residue in my neckbeard, I spent 13 hours pawning pro-Bernie postcards while scaring away special lesbian snowflakes with my dank memes. The Internet is strewn with the bodies of my enemies. Women do not own this country and liberals are the real racists. In ever-loving faith, @PepeIsMyBoner2017. Follow me back.”

“Precious Emily: My heart feels heavy today as I gaze out over the skyline. Yet I remain productive and resolute in my convictions. My strongly-worded 888-word essay on the potential ethical conflicts for our President created by the emolument clause has received 2700 views in three hours since I posted it on Medium. I truly believe that rational actors will prevail in our battle for the nation’s intellectual soul. Did you remember to pick up the smoked fish for brunch on Sunday? Forever yours, Ezra.”

“Querido Carlos: As a small business owner and a proud LATINA FOR TRUMP, I just want to say that it’s about time that we got off our lazy butts and started doing something for ourselves rather than expecting free stuff from the government. To the condescending white liberal who opened the door for me at Coffee Bean today, I just want to say, I will open my own damn doors whenever and wherever I please. #MAGA! Your boss, Sonia.”

“My Fellow Poets: Funding for the arts are in danger in America. We must #resist! Only through our words can America become more intersectional and committed to racial justice.  When writing them, we must all remember to check our privileges. As I said on the steps of the New York Public Library while surrounded by clever posters depicting our President as a character in a Magritte painting: “Audre Lorde/Is my overlord/Bell Hooks would never ban books/unless they were by WHITE MEN.” Hey, does anyone have a bed to spare in their AWP hotel room? My sister in Bethesda just had a baby so she can’t host me this year. Charmed, Leticia.”

“Hey guys: Today I wrote something where I equated myself to the President’s rebellious daughter who fucks with his friends and flirts with her enemies. For some reason, this was controversial. I always delete my posts when they become a thread of people spewing hatred and division (not thoughtful dissent) and the word slut is all over the comments and I’m like ‘this party cannot be saved, the DJ is bad and the guests took whack Molly.’ Peace out, Lena.”

“Dearest Melania: When you have patriotism in your heart, there is no room for prejudice. Did you see the FAKE news on phony CNN that said I have small crowds? Sad! I’m sorry/not sorry I made you frown during my Inauguration speech. Don’t take it personally. It’s just that I am a terribly cruel person who lacks all human empathy. I will crush everyone I love in my insatiable quest for total world domination. That is not an alternative fact. It is just a regular fact. Your loving husband, Donald J. Trump, 45th President Of The United States. Bigly.”

Neal Pollack

Neal Pollack has been the Greatest Living American Writer since the dawn of American letters in the early 1930s, or possibly before. He first came to the public’s attention writing for McSweeney’s in the late 1990s, and then through the publication of “The Neal Pollack Anthology Of American Literature,” the greatest book in American literary history, and possibly in the literary history of all the Americas. The author of dozens of books of fiction, nonfiction, fictional nonfiction, poetry, screenplays, interviews, and diet tips, Neal Pollack lives in a mansion on the summit of Mount Winchester with his beleaguered manservant, Roger. He has outlived Christopher Hitchens, Gore Vidal, Norman Mailer, and many more, and will outlive all of you, too. Follow him on Twitter at @Neal Pollack

Neal Pollack.

Source: Salon: in-depth news, politics, business, technology & culture > Politics

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