A Love Letter to Conservatives
The two of us have a mutual friend, West. West is a hell of a guy. He started out in life poor, almost homeless, and over the course of about 20 years became a successful, self-made businessman. He also hit the gym religiously and now looks like a jacked up Wolverine with 5% body fat and huge muscles. He’s pretty good with the ladies too.
Both you and I look at West as a great example for other men to follow. We both love him as a brother.
Over time though, something starts to happen to West. He starts to say things that make no sense. He starts to get upset at things that shouldn’t upset him. We both like the guy, but over time we both start to get a little suspicious of him.
Then one day, something very odd happens. You’re sitting out on a beautiful beach somewhere in the Bahamas. You see West, swimming out in the ocean. “Swimming” may not be the word, since West doesn’t know how to swim. Immediately you bolt upright, very concerned. Looking closer, you see that West is wearing a life jacket, though a very filmy, ratty one that’s ripped to pieces and doesn’t help much. You also see that, for some bizarre reason you can’t fathom, West had some of his buddies tie a massive sea anchor onto this body with a steel chain, and the anchor is slowly pulling him down into the waves.
He’s drowning! He’s not screaming for help or anything like that, but he’s clearly drowning. He’s failing around, making huge splashes to stay afloat, getting water in his mouth and nose, and coughing red-faced.
He’s not going to be able to take much more of this! You have to save him!
You run down the beach towards the water and leap into the waves. You swim out to where West is thrashing about. He’s slowly sinking lower and lower, the anchor plus his inability to swim slowly killing him.
As you near the thrashing water, you see it’s clearly him. You can even see his last name, Civ, written on his near-destroyed life jacket. In the water, you see the huge sea anchor with its shiny steel chain slowly dragging him down into the depths. You can barely make out some words written on it, like “socialism” and “feminism” and “political correctness.”
“West!” you cry, “It’s okay, buddy! I’m here to save you! Put your arm around my shoulder!”
As you reach out to West, he screams at you angrily, “Don’t touch me you right winger!” and punches you in the face. You snap backward, hands covering your now bloody nose. The pain stings, but you’re strong and recover quickly.
“What the hell, West?” you scream, “I’m trying to save you! You’re drowning!” Again, you reach out to pull him up, to get him to shore, to save him.
“Fuck off!” he yells, “You’re a misogynist!” and punches you again, this time in your eye.
You groan in pain as your eye swells, but you still grab a hold of West, still trying to save him.
“Let go of me you rapist!” West screams hysterically, “This man is trying to RAPE me! Someone help! Help!”
“I’m not trying to rape you!” you protest, “I’m trying to save you!”
“I don’t need any help!” West screams back, “I’m fine! The welfare state must be expanded!”
Then West pulls out a small pocket knife he had in a pouch in his swimsuit. He flips open the blade. It’s a small blade, not enough to kill anyone, but plenty enough to hurt and draw blood.
As you try to grab West again, he yells, “Women don’t make as much money as men!” and stabs you in the chest. It’s a tiny wound, but your blood is now seeping out into the water.
Oh, now you’re PISSED. Pain racking your body, blood leaking into the water, you now hate West. But you still want to save him. Again you grab for him in the reddening, foaming water. Again he stabs you, this time making a small wound in your stomach. You’re furious. You’re in pain. You hate West, yet still your emotions compel you to save him.
You turn and shout over to the shore, to me. At the top of your lungs, you shout “Hey, BD! Help me save West!”
While this is all going on, I’m sitting on the beach, relaxing in a recliner, lazily drinking a non-alcoholic piña colada. Nuzzled next to me is a gorgeous blonde in a bikini with big fake boobs. On the other side of me is a beautiful Asian woman who is giving me a massage. I have a big smile on my face and loving life.
Then I hear you screaming from out into the ocean. I peer out to see you wrestling with West in the water, while West is repeatedly calling you names and stabbing you with a small knife.
“Hey, BD! Help me save West!” you yell.
“Why?” I yell back, “Clearly he doesn’t want to be saved. Can’t you see he’s fucking stabbing you?”
“That doesn’t matter!” you yell, “We have to save him anyway!”
“What the hell?” I answer, “Are you blind? Look at him. Look at what he’s doing to you. He’s stabbing you for even trying to save him. And you can’t save him anyway. That sea anchor is too much for you to swim back to shore with.”
“We could save him if you help me!!!” you scream.
“No, we can’t,” I answer. I then explain, with mathematical precision, how based on the precise weight of the anchor, even if you, I, and my two large-breasted girlfriends swam out to save West, it still wouldn’t be enough. West would still eventually drown. Not to mention the fact that West would be insulting, attacking, and wounding all of us during the entire useless process.
“Look,” I finish, “I love West too. I want him to live. He’s a great man. But just look at him! He hates us. He doesn’t care that he’s drowning. He chose to tie that anchor onto himself. He chose to hate you. No one did this to him. He did his to himself. And now, clearly he’s not the man he once was. I think you want to save the man he was, who is already long gone, rather than the man he has now become.”
With your rage and fury at all-time highs, you get red-faced and scream back at me, “Fuck you BD! You’re a selfish asshole! You don’t care about anyone but yourself! You’re a fucking nihilist! You owe it to West to save him! You’re going to burn in hell!”
Now you’re pissed off at West and me. And you’re wounded and bleeding. You’re full of rage, anger, and pain.
I’m still sitting on the beach, slowly shaking my head at what you’re doing. You could be here on the beach, enjoying yourself, and loving life too. But you’d rather be out in the ice-cold water, wet, bleeding, furious, trying to save someone who hates you, doesn’t want to be saved, is repeatedly stabbing you, and is going to drown regardless of what you do.
One last time, you implore, “C’mon BD! Help me save him! Yeah he’ll probably drown anyway be we have to TRY. He’s all we’ve got!”
“No he’s not,” I respond, as the blonde laying next to me starts to give me a blowjob, “There are lots of other friends we’ll have after this. There’s West’s brother, East. He’s almost as successful as West is and keeps making more money every year. Then there’s his distant cousin Third. Remember him? Third World? He’s a little smelly and crazy but he’s fun to hang with. And West has a lot of children who seem promising, plus some other relatives. When West finally drowns, which is not only inevitable but clearly is what he wants, we’ll go hang with one of them. He’s not the only friend we can have. Yes, it will be sad, and I hate to see all this as much as you do, and I will mourn his loss as much as you will. But I’d rather not spend my time being insulted and stabbed by a guy who hates me and is about to drown no matter what I do. Why don’t you accept that and be happy instead of being angry at everyone all the time while bleeding and wounded for no reason?”
“Fuck you BD!!!” you scream, and again you reach for West, whose mouth and chin are now below the waterline, water going up into his nose, suffocating him. You try to pull him up, but you just can’t. The sea anchor is too heavy. Deep down in your heart, you know that even if you had all of our help, West would still drown.
But you don’t care. You’re irrationally stubborn. With the memories of the man West used to be, a man long gone, you pull up on West with all your might. Its no where near enough. He keeps descending into the depths. Underwater, he stabs you again, this time right in your balls.
With both searing pain and boiling anger, again you scream.