“You get taken all the time for a fool/I don’t know why you’re so gullible but I don’t mind”
–The Strokes, “Taken for a Fool”
I have slept much better for the past several nights knowing, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that our dear President was born right here in these United States, in the lovely ‘burb of Honolulu. Even though I’ve known that for years since he originally produced documentation to such effect, it felt really good to see Mr. November himself get on TV to tell the media they were idiots and prove Donald Trump a fool (which I also already knew to be fact) with nary a mention of his hallowed name.
Then I also remembered that I don’t care about any of this, at all. I mean, who does care? Oh right, a Hummerload of crazy people in parts of America less enlightened than certain coastal regions and metropolitan areas populated with enlightened, self-righteous Opies like myself.
Dyed-in-the-wool Birthers (isn’t there a more appropriate name for this “movement”?) will never be satisfied. So why not get to the root of the problem and rewrite the Constitution? It really doesn’t matter where Obama was born; he’s an American guy.
We did it once just to make booze illegal, and this situation is certainly no less trivial. While we’re in there, we could also undo the enabling mechanisms of our enfeebling bipartisan system, get rid of guns, and re-legalize Jarts.
Something tells me a friendly game of Jarts is just what the good doctor ordered to get Trump and Obama on the same page. And if an errant deadly lawn dart happens to penetrate and permanently damage a certain hairpiece in the process, we can always repeal our beloved Amendment of Jartification, lesson learned.
For the moment, I am out of brilliant ideas. Good day.