Dear Mom, I Am A Failure
Even though you’ve been dead for almost twenty years now, I thought I should write to apologize for the fact that your second-oldest son is an abject failure.
You probably remember how when I was a kid I was always yammering on and on about peace and brotherhood, ending the endless wars, etc? You remember how, every time you went shopping I would write “World Peace” on the shopping list & when you got home I always dutifully asked if they’d had any for sale (no), in stock (never), or even on order (not bloody likely)?
Well, I’m well into my 60s now, and nothing’s changed, at least not for the better.
A couple days ago, our alleged President dropped this big honking bomb on a bunch of alleged enemies. He managed to kill a couple dozen of them, but I did some math and figured out that it took about 600 pounds of explosive and cost about half a million dollars per man to do so.
We both know that there are better ways to spend that money.
And we both know that it’s not really about the money, anyway.
We both know what it’s all about, right?
Right. World Fucking Peace. Is that so fucking hard to see?
At any rate, Mom, I’m sorry. I mean, I’ll keep on trying and all that, but it looks like your second-oldest son, the peacenik, will be joining you in the Great Beyond without having succeeded at the one thing he always considered the most important.
It’ll be good to see you again though. Given the direction things are headed here, I’m almost looking forward to it.
Your Loving Son,
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