I decided to write thank you notes to the various objects that are helping me get through unemployment. This edition is dedicated to Birth Certificate.
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Dear Birth Certificate,
As I was staring at ceiling this morning, I couldn’t help but notice that it had magically turned green. I also felt a sharp pain in my unfortunately large nose. That’s when I realized I was lying face down. As I turned around this morning to actually stare at ceiling, computer starting whining quite loudly. You see Birth Certificate, as much as I do to appease computer by watching its favorite TV shows (“Dancing with the Stars” and “When Sharks Attack”), computer has been getting a bit bitchy from all the news it reads about the current political situation.
It seems, Birth Certificate, that with poor job growth, two wars, and half the country believing gay people practice bestiality, Donald Trump’s toupee has been named czar of America. Trump’s toupee’s first order of business was to demand Obama re-release you, Birth Certificate, as apparently Hawaii may not actually be a state, and is instead where the US government keeps its stockpile of aliens from Mars and coconuts. Computer was very angry by this news because it was planning on taking a trip there and didn’t want to have to renew its passport. I wrote Congress a letter asking if Alaska is really a state, but Sarah Palin wrote back asking me to stop behaving like a terrorist.
Anyway, Birth Certificate, all this chatter about Hawaii got me thinking…about food. So I got a piece of pineapple pizza. But then it struck me! What if my parents lied to me, and I was actually born in India!? There are jobs in India! Lots of jobs! I’m not sure my election votes were actually counted, and Americans aren’t entitled to any benefits, so there is no way to know! If I was actually born in India, Birth Certificate, I would be able to apply to all of those jobs! After rummaging through “Outdated Shit” box for a few minutes, I finally found you sitting under AA Battery. Here it was at last, my ticket out of unemployment! According to you, Birth Certificate, I was born in…Orange! Wait, no, that’s county. I was actually born in…California!? What the F**k!
Well, with that brilliant plan foiled, I suppose there is only one thing left to do. We must release you, Birth Certificate, to the media. I have already contacted BBC News, CNN, and Facebook. So far, Facebook is the only one that responded. I hope this “Wall” is highly trafficked. With these bases covered, there is only one place left to go. That’s right, Birth Certificate, we must go see Trump’s toupee…
…So here we are, at Trump plaza, with only a few minor distractions at the Apple Store and four cupcake shops. Remember to address Trump’s toupee as “Mr. Toupee,” and to only make eye contact with the bangs. Also recite our terms, Birth Certificate. We would like a public apology, immediate cancellation of “Celebrity Apprentice,” and a bajillion dollars.
What’s that? What do you mean Trump’s toupee only cares about Obama’s Birth Certificate? Don’t put yourself down like that! Oooh, I see, questioning Obama’s Birth Certificate was only to erase the legitimacy of his presidency! So all I have to do to get my bajillion dollars is to become president of the United States! Well, that’s probably easier than getting a job, so after we stop and get a cupcake, let's make me the US president, Orange California Birth Certificate!
With Toupees,
Mala
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