An Intervention Letter for America

The United States seems to be in a downward spiral and needs an intervention.

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Dear America,

I know you’re wondering why we brought you here today. First, I want you to understand that this is not an ambush. We are here because we love you. I’m sure that the somber look on everyone’s face makes you think we have bad news, but don’t worry—you’re America; there’s always bad news.

Yes, there have been some disasters recently, and I know you heard the unbelievably tragic reports that Soulja Boy and Lil’ Bow Wow will be releasing an album this week, but that’s not why we brought you here. We came together because we needed to confront you on your recent behavior. We have been concerned about you for a while, but in the past year, during this election, it seems as if you have hit rock bottom. We want you to get better. We need you to get better.

 America, this is your intervention.

I’ve never seen you this low. You always had an erratic spirit, but as you grew older, I watched you evolve from owning slaves and subjugating women to giving women the right to vote and writing a Civil Rights Act. When you elected a black president in 2008, my heart swelled. I was so proud of you when that happened. Sure, you were always a little bit racist and sexist, but I figured you’d eventually grow out of your antiquated ways. I guess I was wrong.

What happened to you, America? You were doing so well! You came to your senses and gave your citizens health care like every other civilized country, and you finally had a leader who could handle the kick-turn part of the Electric Slide. Things were looking so promising! The last time I saw you, you were trying to figure out how to give people free education. You were on your way to becoming great.

The next thing I know, you’re on TV ranting about Mexican rapists, banning Muslims, and black people not being able to walk down the street without getting shot. That’s when I knew you had relapsed and started using again. It broke my heart to see you revert to your Neanderthal, whip-wielding roots, stumbling around like a Jim Crow-era idiot trying to stop people from voting. I thought you were past that part of your life.

I don’t know why you relapsed. Maybe it is my fault. Maybe I let you forget that we have to take this day by day. Maybe I saw Oprah, Tyler Perry and Barack Obama and figured that we were living in a post-racial America, and I forgot that you will always have a little racism in your blood. Maybe I saw Michelle Obama and Hillary Clinton and wiped away the memories of how you treated women. Maybe I relaxed when cops started wearing body cameras and I believed that police brutality had been solved.

I sometimes forget that racism and sexism are diseases embedded in your DNA, and they will never go away or be eradicated. I probably should have kept a better eye on you. Maybe I was too busy waiting in line for the new iPhone, listening to the new Beyoncé album or fighting against the newest grave injustice—people who put sugar in their grits—to notice that you had started getting high again.

I should have recognized the signs. You started hanging with all the wrong people. I knew you had been talking to Donald Trump, but I didn’t think you’d ever really become friends with him. I figured you’d eventually recognize his lack of policy, low intelligence or sheer asshattedness and end your friendship. I never thought you’d let it get so far as to allow him to influence you to use again. I know they say, “Birds of a feather … ,” but I never imagined, after all your progress, that you’d flock to an orange, combed-over, tax-evading totalitarian walking around handing out sexual assaults like Halloween candy. Come on, America, you know better than that!

Maybe it was the girls you were seeing. When you started dating Hillary, I warned you about her. I tried to remind you that she once called me a “superpredator” and told you how all the black men she used to mess around with ended up dead or in jail. I don’t like to interfere in anyone’s relationship, but I knew she was bad news.

I’m not saying she’s a war hawk or troublemaker, but she’s the type who always ends up in the middle of a fight between two guys, and when the smoke clears and both parties are devastated, she sits back as if none of it is her fault. You see what she did to Iraq. And Afghanistan. And Syria. And … man, I told you; do not trust that chick! I’m just glad you listened to me when I told you not to email her.

Why couldn’t you hang with the people I introduced you to? I know Bernie Sanders is a little old and outside the box, but he wouldn’t have made you relapse. He marched with Martin Luther King Jr., so I figured he was good for you to kick it with. I would even have been cool with Jeb Bush, but you said he was “too low energy.” When I ran into you at the debate, I could tell you were high. As soon as you started ranting about “bad hombres,” reinstituting stop and frisk, and establishing “law and order,” I knew that you had been smoking some homegrown “loud.” That’s what they call racism now, right?

The next thing I hear, they’re dragging your drunk ass away from the 9/11 Memorial, talking about how you had “walking pneumonia.” You know how I knew they were covering up for you? Because walking pneumonia generally means you can walk. Then I hear audio of you revealing how you like to “grab them by the p–sy.” Look, America; everyone knows know what you and Billy Bush were doing in the back of that bus: You were snorting lines of pure, uncut misogyny.

What do we want from you?

We want you to enroll in a 12-step program. We want you to stop using racism, sexism, homophobia and fear. We want you to go back to being the same country that put a man on the moon, created the internet and invented a taco shell made out of Doritos.

Remember, America, we love you. We just want to make you sober again. We have arranged for you to go through a treatment program because you are clearly at rock bottom. It’s a combination of detox, therapy and self-reflection. We will evaluate your progress in four years. Hopefully you can conquer your demons, but if we get to the 2020 election and have to choose between Kanye West and Rush Limbaugh, we’ll know you’ve been getting high again.

Love always,

Us

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