Carol Jenkins was pissed off. Fed up. Disgusted. Disillusioned. Horrified. Flabbergasted. She'd had enough of a president who had put America’s future into a terrifying tailspin. So she drafted up a very strongly worded letter, and mailed it to The White House.

It was a very strongly worded letter. It was an emotional, thoughtful, passionate, articulate, extremely strongly worded letter. It was a moving and powerful testament that could squeeze tears from a stone. A manifesto for the ages, with the strength and wisdom to pull humanity back from the brink and set it on a glowing path to enlightenment. The strongly worded letter could have easily saved America, if it hadn’t ended up in a wastebasket next to the presidential toilet.

The strongly worded letter got crumpled up and smooshed next to a wad of boogery Kleenex. It got dusted with nostril hairs and toenail-shavings. But the words rang true. Each sentence was an inspiring call to action. Each paragraph was a game-changing gem that would ignite the blood of the reader and re-wire the collective thinking of a lost generation.

But instead, the strongly worded letter got flattened by a half-eaten drumstick. And then it got smothered by a handful of curly fries soaked in ranch dressing. The strongly worded letter chafed under a moldering 32 oz. mass of chewed bacon. But still, the words burned. Or at least they ached to burn themselves into the thirsty minds of the masses.

The wastebasket was emptied into a White House dumpster. The strongly worded letter felt the suffocating weight of soiled underwear, discarded tanning goggles, stale butt-cheese, Styrofoam burger cartons, empty Viagra bottles and navel-flap lint.

As it waited for the White House garbage truck to take it away, the strongly worded letter dreamed about a great awakening. It fantasized about being found at the last minute, and being wiped off and read. And going viral. And becoming legend. And centuries from now, being enshrined in a museum case as the document that saved America.

It almost saved America. Oh, well.

So, if you’re good and pissed, go ahead and write a strongly-worded letter. Chances are it may end up lining a birdcage, house-breaking a puppy, or decorating a land fill. But there’s always that itty-bitty, teensy-weensy chance… that someone may pick it up and read it. And it will save America.

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  ©2020 Anti News, Chris Hume