Everybody in This Country Needs to Chill Out and That’s Why I’m Voting for Jimmy Buffett in 2020

Mahalo, friends. Does the current political climate have you feeling like you’re wasting away in broken flip flops, looking for a salt shaker? Or something like that?


Sorry, I honestly have no idea how that song goes. Know what? Doesn’t really matter, man, ‘cause I’m just here for the vibes. Didn’t Jimmy Buffett say that? Sounds like something he might’ve said.


Point is, our country could really use more of that laid-back easy-going hey-brotherman-everything-is-A-OK atmosphere right now. Just look at all those friendly Parrotheads tailgating before his shows, twirling in their hula skirts and leis without a care in the world, much less a sense of shame. We could all be more like them, right?


So, who’s ready to slip into some Sperrys and kick back with a frosty margarita? Let’s all strap on our coconut bras and sing the tune that somehow made him a cultural icon. Put your palms together in a ‘fins up’ salute! And a one, and a two, and —


Nibblin’ on sponge cake


Seriously, that’s how “Margaritaville” starts?


Watchin’ the sun bake

All of those tourists covered with oil


I guess I’ve only ever heard the chorus. Sponge cake in the tropics? The hell?


Strummin’ my six string

On my front porch swing


Shut it off. That’s all I can take.


Don’t worry, friends. This isn’t about the music. This is about healing our country through the communal spirit of goodwill as perfected by those Parrotheads. Say, let’s try that cheeseburger song instead!


At night I’d have these wonderful dreams

Some kind of sensuous treat


Do what now?


Not zucchini, fettuccine, or bulgur wheat


Ok, Gilligan, you really don’t have to qualify those as un-sensuous items.


But a big warm bun and a huge hunk of meat


Your inner songsmith inspired you to rhyme that with ‘bulgur wheat’? Is that even a thing people eat? Eat! Eat rhymes with meat!


I’m just a cheeseburger in paradise


Nope, shut it down. First he’s nibblin’ on sponge cake and now he’s a cheeseburger dreaming about eat-fucking himself?


Ok, full disclosure: I can’t stand Jimmy Buffett’s music. I know, I know, it’s ‘easy listening’, but I sure as hell don’t find it easy to listen to.


How can we heal our country when there are millions of people who not only tolerate but celebrate this unforgivably bland excuse for culture? If you ever wondered who can mix the meaningless schlock of The Beach Boys with the aural anesthesia of James Taylor, then Buffett’s you man.


But not mine. I forcefully rescind my nomination.


Here’s my new proposal, you Parrotfuckers: I’m calling for a national boycott on overrated musicians and their cult-like followers.


Owning any Jimmy Buffet album will get you locked up at Gitmo where you can redefine what an “island escapism lifestyle” really is. Go cannibal and eat-fuck the cheeseburger buns off each other for all I care.


Any remaining Deadheads will be rounded up from their befuddled wanderings and chained together by their dreadlocks and hemp necklaces, forced to wallow in the Bay Area in a bloated writhing pile like those disgusting harbor seals.


Dave Matthews Band will be renamed Dave Matthews: Banned. Dave’s mouth will be covered in duct tape and razor wire to muffle his hysterical Leprechaun shrieks while the remaining performers, thanks to their actual talent, will be allowed to continue playing. If Carter Beauford ever leaves the band, Dave will be shipped back to South Africa.


All Insane Clown Posse fans will be given free passes to the next Gathering of the Juggalos during which the greater area of Springville, Indiana will be permanently quarantined in an impenetrable bubble à la Stephen King’s Under the Dome. Any other band trapped in the bubble will be considered martyrs who sacrificed themselves for the greater good.


And listening to The Eagles will be punishable by death.


The only way to heal our country is to combat this widespread tyranny! Oh God, I forgot about Spreadheads.


This acceptance of mediocrity must end! Gene Ween for president! All hail the boognish!