“Hey, all you cool cats and kittens. Senator Sassafras here. You can call me that. It’s all right. I’m the cool Senator.

“Y’know what’s not cool, though? China, and their policy of releasing bioweapons into airports because they think it’s funny. And I think that’s the biggest problem I have with them. When America releases bioweapons, it’s for the greater good. But China’s just amusing itself. Rook at the gaijin! They die with mayonnaise! Inka dinka doo, inka dinka doo. That’s what that language sounds like to me. Inka dinka doo. I got a theory that they’re just making that crap up to be dicks, and when they’re alone they speak English or Spanish or whatever. It’s not racist to say that some languages are worse than others. It’s just observation.

“Anyhoo, they screwed you royal, kids. Surprised that any of you can sit down what with all the ass-pounding you’ve taken this year. You probably all look like gibbons back there. Bright-red giant asses, man. That’s your generation. You call it being ‘thicc,’ but you’re all just fat little fucks. Maybe the cushion helped ease the pushing? I’ve heard that, but God I hate looking at you young people and your rolls of sloth.

“You won’t miss high school. Most of your friends are gonna end up on meth, anyway. Shit, it’s Nebraska. If it wasn’t for meth, there’d be no reason at all to stay here. You’re gonna lose some of your friends to thresher accidents, possibly meth-related. We had a kid in my class, Donnie Milsap, who just disappeared. Got in his truck, left the bar, never got home. I think Donnie got Communioned, and a lot of people agree with me. So what I’m saying is: Your choices are meth or aliens.

“Some of you are gonna become hobos. You’ll get into adventures, eat beans, and have a secret glyph language. You’ll have freedom and autonomy and untreated syphilis contracted from hobo whores. A few of you are gonna be hobo whores.

“Not gonna lie to you, kids: This sucks. When I was your age, I was Mr. Tugger. You heard of the Tiger King? I was the Tugger King. The Lord said one must not fornicate before marriage, but He didn’t say anything about a well-executed beef stroking-off. Girls liked to do it, and I liked getting it done. Reach on in, I’d say. That was a childhood, but you poor bastards have no one to jerk you off. Man, that’s a rough one.

“We had beer bashes, too. Get a couple kegs, invite a couple weird kids to ritualistically humiliate, some light rape. We just called that ‘Friday Night,’ man. We’d blast Van Halen and get nuts. I don’t know what you little queers are listening to nowadays. It sounds like gay robot music. What happened to guitar solos, man? That’s why everyone thinks you kids are fags. Listen to some freaking Maiden, why don’t you?

“Don’t worry about the economy, though. It’ll pick up once we go to war with China. You’re gonna be going to war with China. Congratulations. Funny thing about those $1200 checks that everyone got: Cashing them means you enlisted in the service. We’re just gonna throw you at the Chinese. Total ‘Drown ’em in blood’ strategy.

“Oh, hey: If any of your grandparents died, that’s too bad. You’ll get through it.”

 

 

My version is no more than sightly worse than the actual address, and you don’t have to stare at unshaven Ben Sasse, who has reached Jay Cutler/Ben Affleck heights of “White Guy With No Fucks” status.