An inconvenient marital truth…or three./Image: Licensed Adobe stock, Scott Griessel.
How are we doing, my questioning, conservative readers?
Now that that initial, tender moment is out of the way, allow me–or don’t, because I’m Alt, and I don’t need permission, I take it–dear Spread Your Right Wings (SYRW) readers to adopt my usual obnoxious, overbearing, right-wing-noxious tone and stance a la Tomi Lahren, Jeanine Pirro, and Laura Ingraham. Why anyone would like, listen to, or find appealing these objectively distasteful nightmare-humans is beyond the Loony Left. But I know why, SYRW-ites. It’s because you’re not that smart, have awful taste, and you don’t respond to sensitivity and thoughtfulness. This is all fantastic news to me, as I’m a Lahren-Pirro-Ingraham-type, basically a boorish, insufferable, uncompassionate idiot in a tight dress, overprocessed hair, and slutty heels. Last week I didn’t receive any letters asking for my ad–I mean, I managed to struggle forth from underneath a mountain of snail mail as always to bring you the following excellent question from a reader on how to make sure you stay married once you get that Republi-hunk to put an Alt-ring on your Alt-left ring finger. As always, the inspiration behind my advice is a right-wing figure, First Lady Melania Trump. Let’s see the letter I received first.
Dear Kaylee
I’m a proud, proud, proud (the more I say it, the more likely it is to become true), proud, proud, proud member of the right-wing of the contemporary political spectrum. I’ve managed to get a moderately educated from a seventh-rate school, merchant-class-wealthy, politically conservative fellow to marry me. Phew! Now, my life has meaning! But I worry every day that we won’t stay married. How do I make sure we do!
Unsure in Underwood
Dear Underwood
First of all, your hometown’s name reminds me of the word “underwear.” Second of all, put the Chablis down–it’s the middle of the day and you no longer have to worry. I have a three-point plan for you that’ll make sure your union of grudging wedded acceptance of your husband in your life and vice versa. Just because the American Union can’t stay together because of the right’s choice, doesn’t mean your nuptial one can’t. Let’s get down to is-this-a-brass-ring-band-you-cheap-a-hole tacks!
Step 1: Accept the Following
Forget all that nonsense you learned about passionate romances that last a lifetime from Disney movies. Marriage is about the advantage a man can bring a woman and the regular sex she can be a part of with him. You’re with your husband for the comfort. ease, and privilege he can provide for you and the kids I’m assuming you have together, because if you don’t, then what’s the point of being a woman? Sometimes white privilege just isn’t enough. Anyway, if you get addicted enough to buying stuff to fill the void that exists in your already cold, dead, rightist’s heart, you’ll do anything to stay in this marriage. You have to want it bad enough. And you’ll want it bad enough when you realize you have no skills, no prospects, and no future without this man. Don’t actually dig your acrylic nails into his flesh, but do so metaphorically. You have to maintain the ruse that you’re “in love” and together because you drive each other wild with desire and romantic lust. But you’re not in love, you’re in…business. A transactional relationship in the purest sense. So, you need to get read of all those punctilious obsessions with lovey-dovey life, flowers, weekends away, heart-shaped boxes of chocolates. No. Just no.
Related: 5 texts that make the case for nearsighted right-wing social engineering.
Step 2: Frown
That’s right. Like Melania Trump herself, our heroine, you must wear a stone-faced-bordering-on-active-scowling expression at all times. This will help you live with someone you might actively dislike. Get used to being miserable. It all starts with the facial muscles. Just like smiling is said to release happiness neurotransmitters in the brain, so frowning does for misery chemicals in said organ. if they’re always flooding your gray matter, these can’t-be-happy chemicals, it’ll simply become your way of life for you to feel their constant torture of you. That’s good! Then your marriage will become your way of life, too!
Step 3: Bargain
Just as the right has made a terrible, terrible calculation, a deal with the Orange Devil, in deciding that the support of the passionate-because-they’re-evil base of Trump voters is worth, ironically, electing to the presidency the man who’ll be likely the cause of the downfall of the entire nation through his inability to, well, do anything correctly ever, so too you must make a sad, horrible deal with yourself. You must decide that keeping their Alt-mommy and Alt-daddy joined together in a sham marriage is better for your kids than the trauma of divorce. It’s probably really not, but you need to convince yourself that it is. And then, again, you will simply naturally, subconsciously, organically make the choices, small and large, that keep you living this life from hell.
And:: Trump invented a literary award and awarded it to himself–get the deets.
Let Them Flow
The tears, I mean. Let them flow, because I know this is a totally depressing way to live. But we whites have had to make so very many sacrifices as marginalized groups take center stage culturally. Like…uh…well…there are some, they’re just so obvioys they need not be mentioned! So I won’t mention them. But they’re there, all right. They’re there.
I know, dear womanly readers, you can feel like right-wing hunks arms wrapped around you as you cuddle in bed already, forever and ever. Because, yeah, that’s how life works. But then you realize those powerful arms you were picturing behind closed eyelids are actually just fat because all the son of a bitch does is go to work, drink beer, and repeat And then you’re like, “OK, I wanna go watch Grey’s Anatomy.” And then you also remember he’s only agreeing to cuddle, your favorite loving act, because you agreed to lie motionless beneath him for 2.5 minutes while he reach orgasm from missionary-style sex with you. And then you’re really like, “Ok, I’m out, hon–.” As you notice he’s asleep and likely has been for the entire time you thought you were in some co-cuddling in-sync moment, he was sleeping. You stomp over to the chaise nearby pick up your rob and stomp out to eat ice cream late into the night while watching. Grey’s. Welcome to the rest of your life.
In between now and my next column on this day, at this time next week—ask questions, but promise me you will fail to grow and evolve—indeed, change in any way—when you get the Alt-answers.
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