Thank God for Republican America

Photo by Colin Lloyd on Unsplash

I woke up today to the sound of F-22 Raptors roaring over my bedroom, as I do every day. Sporting my American flag pajamas, I rushed into the kitchen of my colonial-style ranch and kissed my wife on the cheek. We are both heterosexual, everyone is heterosexual. She told me that my bacon, salted with liberal tears, was ready to eat alongside absolutely no fruit. I gave her a hearty tap on the rear, she thanked me for allowing her to cook such a fine meal for her heterosexual husband.

I was reading my copy of Adam Smith’s “Wealth of Nations,” I stopped when I realized that Adam Smith was a college-educated-elitist. I didn’t need Adam Smith to appreciate the glory of free market economics, I had our lord and savior Jesus Christ for that. I threw the book into my living room’s book-fireplace, its ashes mixed with those of Hillary Clinton’s memoirs. I had bought every book that hag has ever written solely to burn the copies in front of my kids. My children are also all heterosexual.

I stepped out onto my front porch, the scent of unadulterated C02 and factory fumes filled my alpha male nostrils. “Smells like freedom,” I said quietly to myself and to the police bug that was placed atop my door frame. The lawn was completely overgrown, my former landscapers had been deported — a necessary sacrifice to ensure the country was free of illegal aliens. Luis, the owner of the landscaping company and my former neighbor, claimed to be a legal citizen and to have the proper documentation, but I knew this was fake news. I waded through the almost 6 feet tall grass that stood in front of my house, I could hear my heterosexual wife wish me a good day through the foliage.

I got into my Hummer 4, custom built with 8 exhaust pipes. It has an MPG of 5 miles per gallon. I spend more than half of my salary on gasoline, as any true patriot should. I was sick but didn’t want to go to my doctor, I needed the $3,500 that I’d have to pay for a pre-checkup to buy more American flags. I already owned 8, but my neighbor owns 11. I approached the Liberal Checkpoint on the corner of my street, the guard stepped up to my window to verify my conservatism.

“Land of the free…?”

“Because of the brave,” I answered.

“Correct. Are you in possession of any masks, sir?”

“No, sir.”

The China Virus had wiped out over half of the United States population, but we knew this was fake news and that masks are an infringement on our rights.

“You’re clear to move ahead, sir. God bless America.”

“God Bless America.”

I arrived at work, my boss rolled up next to me. He was driving a Hummer 5, it had twenty exhaust pipes. For a moment, I thought he was incredibly handsome, but I shocked myself with my handheld “Pence Brand Pacifier” to ensure any non-heterosexual thoughts were quickly purged from my mind.

“You’re late John, I’ll have to pay you only half of your wages for today.”

“Yes sir, thank you, sir.”

My boss was always right, he reminded his subordinates every day that organized labor was a communist plot and that we were lucky to even be allowed to work at such an amazing company. I worked for the Trump Organization, everyone in America did. President Trump, currently serving his 12th consecutive term as President, no longer made public appearances. The government told us it was because he was too busy running his highly successful business and “owning the libs” to see us. We were just thankful that the Democrats had also been deported alongside the illegals. President Trump could spend the rest of his terms having heterosexual sex with his current wife and we would still gleefully provide him a landslide victory in the next election.

Though our enthusiasm was unnecessary, as elections had been suspended after his second term. Apparently, the Democrats were trying to cheat again!

I was in the middle of processing another order of Trump-brand rations for the remaining survivors in Florida when our supervisor initiated the “Oath of Loyalty.”

“Do you swear your loyalty to the United States of America, the Republican Party, and our very great, best genes, most intelligent, President Donald J. Trump?”

“I do,” bellowed the office in unison.

“Keep America Great!”

We all responded in kind, this oath was repeated every hour on the dot.

The alarm for our mandatory prayer break rang out. I got down on my knees and thanked God for watching over this amazing country of ours and for providing us our natural rights as Republicans to do with it as we saw fit. Republican men that is, obviously.

I clocked out from work and headed to the bar with my coworkers. The street was buzzing with energy, it was the 4th of July! To prove we were all true American patriots, every day is now the 4th of July. This of course requires a ton of fireworks. In order to afford superior American-made fireworks, not that cheap Chinese crap, we scrapped public education and used what was allocated for it to purchase them. My children, without the burden of the forced liberal indoctrination that was public education, also work for the Trump Organization as interns. They work in the factories that make his ties, their hands are small enough to fix any jams in the conveyor belt.

I watched the firework show with my male coworkers, I had my “Pence Brand Pacifier” ready to go in case any impure thoughts came to mind. The F-22 Raptors roared overhead, I drank a Trump-brand beer while swallowing a Trump-brand steak in one bite. At that moment, the liberal conspiracy to clog my arteries with cholesterol came to fruition. I clenched my chest, my coworker came over to help me. I pushed him back and yelled “individual responsibility!”

I collapsed, the libs had defeated me. As I was fading away, I heard one of the essential oil experts (otherwise known as doctors in the before time) say that I was having a heart attack. I knew that my heart would never attack me, my heart belonged to God. To defend myself against the expert’s liberal slander, I whispered what would be my final words:

“Facts don’t care about your feelings.”



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Dylan Rice

Dylan Rice

Agitator, banned-book list hopeful, failed-politician, suit-wearer, soul music-fanatic.