Dear Kissinger,
I was in the bedroom last night watching CNN when Cindy walked in wearing nothing but a newly acquired pair of knee-high boots. Louis Vuitton. Ostrich leather with stiletto heels. Good God in Heaven.
And just as I started strapping on my penile pump, I caught him on the TV screen. Obama. Talking about MLK again.
I knew this was going to come back and haunt me, Hank — that I spent seven years opposing a federal holiday that would recognize Martin Luther King. (And then there was the other thing where I defended those southerners who were flying the Confederate flag. In retrospect, not my best judgment.) I was just following my heart. But shit, I know, you gotta play to the masses. Damn me for being so short-sighted. This might wind up being the issue that keeps me out of the White House. (No, the irony is not lost on me.)
MLK. Let me tell you about that socialist traitor, Hank — the truth, and not the bullshit spun by revisionist historians. He was no hero. Neither was Bobby Kennedy. The peaceniks that followed those two fuckers around never supported our boys in combat. Never. My memory is very clear on that. I would certainly remember if I ever received a care package from one of those do-gooders; and I’ll surely never forget how they spit on us when we came home.
I was trapped in a fucking tiger box for five-and-a-half-years. Those “heroes” and their followers did nothing but question us at every turn. Their false sense of entitlement was more than a little unnerving then, and it’s just about infuriating now — when terrorists ‘round the globe have us in their scopes.
Certain people in this country are under the impression that freedom is free. Well, it isn’t. Will they ever understand that? A daunting question, to be sure. Unfortunately, learning sometimes comes only by the most difficult lessons.
I hate to say it, but maybe this country could use another 9/11 to set it straight.
God bless America,
John
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