Wednesday, August 9, 2017

August 9, 2017

Dear Diary,

Even loaded up on Darvon, I know that today is one of those historical dates etched into the minds of millions of peasants Americans, along with Pearl Harbor, D-Day and Elvis's birthday. Those were real important days, but back then nobody whined and complained about turning them into paid Federal holidays. Nowadays, someone from Black Lives Matters farts and everyone starts clamoring for more paid time off.

When I was a little girl, people were still chattering about how President Truman "dropped the big one" on Hiroshima to end the second world war. Let me tell you, that was pretty brutal stuff. Of course, a lot of millennial kids today will argue against that decision, but what the hell do they really know? The closest they've ever gotten to a searing atomic blast is crying to the waiter about how their veggie soy patties are too well-done. But I have to keep my mouth shut or they'll vote for Jill Stein again.

Deciding to drop the bomb wasn't easy. Killing people never is, unless they've betrayed you and leaked evidence to Julian Assange it's critical to a nation's survival. Then once your enemies are all melted down or vaporized, you can always rewrite history books explain things later. The tricky part is staying out of court calm.

One thing I will say for the good old USA: We may have been the only country in history to actually detonate an atomic bomb in war time, but we sure didn't chicken out by strapping it to the nose of some guided missile. You didn't see the crew of the Enola Gay sitting behind some video game console pushing buttons from a million miles away. No siree, they dropped that sucker from the belly of a B-29, a few thousand feet over Tokyo. I think it was Tokyo. Those people over there have a bunch of different names for the same places. I bet Caroline Kennedy would know.

I think it's terribly important for me to publicly display my concern on somber occasions, especially because I didn't get much support from the Orientals during the you-know-what America has become mongrelized much more inclusive over time. I can't turn on the TV without seeing insurance commercials with interracial couples. Most of the time, they're either white men with Oriental wives, or white women with black husbands. I'm pretty sure they don't use Mexicans because from what I hear, they don't buy car insurance.

Still very humid here. My flannel pajamas keep creeping up on me.

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