This is Not the Republican Party I Slept With in College

What happened to you? The Republican Party I knew and shared intercourse with in college was responsible, rational and, I’ll admit it, even charming. I liked that you were conservative. It made me feel safe. But I look at you now and I’m like, God, I can’t believe I let THAT lick my nipples.


I hardly recognize you. Back in the day, you just wanted basic restrictions on labor unions, which was a logical policy that I could absolutely get behind – or on top of, as the case was. But now you’re an overzealous fear monger who treats labor unions like they’re an entitled mob whose sole ambition is to undermine capitalism, and the mere thought of you running your fingers through my hair is like, yuck.


Jesus, I even let you talk me into trying things I wasn’t even INTO, like financial deregulation and mild asphyxiation. But I was young and curious, and you seemed totally normal. You had guns, sure, but lots of people had guns. These days you don’t just HAVE guns, you LOVE guns. You WORSHIP guns. I think you’d rather do ORAL STUFF to guns than to me now.


When you used to talk about common sense immigration policies and the possibilities of a responsible free market economy, I’d be like, “Okay, tonight I’m bringing out the fancy underwear.” But that Republican Party is gone – replaced by a wall-building, family-separating, women’s-rights-suppressing lobbyist pawn whom I would never, NEVER allow to diddle me like I did in college.


I see you on TV sometimes now, and my friends will make comments like, “Ugh, what total slimy scum,” and I have to laugh awkwardly and say something like, “Yeah, I know. I’d sure never experiment with water sports in a casual fling with slimy scum like that.” Because of who you’ve become, I have to deny that we ever happened. You used to be a notch in my bedpost, but now you’re more like a Herpes scar on my down-belows.


Sure, I’ve got plenty of regrettable liaisons in my past. I made out with Buddhism once. I spent a reckless but ultimately vapid week with Noam Chomsky. I worked out with a Shake Weight™ for three days. But none of those errs in judgment ever gave me the sense of self-loathing I feel when I think about how I allowed you to use a Swedish Tickler on me.


Ugh, I want to vomit.


You told me that GOP means Grand Old Party – and there was a time when you actually were an inspiring ideology and a sweet lay. But you’ve totally let yourself go. Look at the debt you’ve racked up. It’s disgusting. You’ve become so crotchety, old and bloated that I bet you can’t even do the Reverse Wanton Wheelbarrow anymore.


I imagine if we tried to get intimate these days, you’d get all bristly and say, “So, I suppose you want me to GIVE you an orgasm? You want me to just GIVE you one? Everybody wants a handout!”


No, Republican Party, everybody does NOT want a handout. We all just want a fair shot at a respectable life and an explosive climax, and if you think America would be better off if everyone KEPT orgasms instead of GIVING them, then why did you accept so many from me?


You are a shameful embarrassment of a party. And I hereby renounce any coitus we ever had. I want my dignity back. And I want my mouth guard back.