Wednesday, June 7, 2017


(My son Matt sent me this.  I'm not sure where he got it.)

May you sell everything and retire to Florida just as global warming makes it uninhabitable.
 May you live to a hundred and twenty without Social Security or Medicare.
May you make a fortune, and lose it all in one of Sheldon Adelson’s casinos
May you live to a ripe old age, and may the only people who come visit you be Mormon missionaries.
May your son be elected President, and may you have no idea what you did with his goddamn birth certificate.
May your grandchildren baptize you after you’re dead.
May you find yourself insisting to a roomful of skeptics that your great-grandmother was “legitimately” raped by Cossacks.
May you feast every day on chopped liver with onions, chicken soup with dumplings, baked carp with horseradish, braised meat with vegetable stew, latkes, and may every bite of it be contaminated with E. Coli, because the government gutted the E.P.A.
May you have a rare disease and need an operation that only one surgeon in the world, the winner of the Nobel Prize for Medicine, is able to perform. And may he be unable to perform it because he doesn’t take your insurance. And may that Nobel Laureate be your son.
May the state of Arizona expand their definition of “suspected illegal immigrants” to “anyone who doesn’t hunt.”
May you be reunited in the world to come with your ancestors, who were all socialist garment workers.

May every Republican congressional member who voted to repeal Obamacare, have their healthcare cancelled, because 'greedy asshole' is a pre-existing condition.

May your favorite son be mistakenly arrested and need to take a polygraph test to clear his name. And may your son only be able to speak with the same level of truthfulness as Rep. Paul Ryan, when answering direct questions.

May God give you a daughter-in-law who is as kind as she is beautiful, as patient as she is rich, as wise as she is devoted, a virtuous woman in every way. And then may a ballot initiative invalidate her marriage to your fat lump Rebecca.

May your insurance company decide constipation is a pre-existing condition----fishducky