a love letter

[i apologize for the untimeliness of this post, but since (a) i stumbled in last friday night way too shitfaced to write this when it sorely needed to be written; (b) somebody just tonight reminded me of how infuriated i was about this last week; and (c) i presently find myself at precisely the optimal stage of drunkenness to attempt to do the subject justice, please allow me to introduce the following for your delectation.]

to caroline kennedy schlossberg kennedy, maria kennedy shriver kennedy schwarzenegger kennedy, and [insert your choice of wastrel rfk scion here]:

please, once and for all, shut the fuck up already--i can't begin to tell you how goddam tired i (and anybody else of my generation with half a brain) am of you, who--having done nothing and deserving even less, continue your tiresome habit of (a) coasting on your family name, and (b) dragging your dead father and/or uncle out in support of [insert name of unworthy candidate here], when in reality you have no idea if, were they actually still alive, they'd have supported any of them.

case in point: seriously, caroline--had you the volition and/or intellectual capacity to reference actual history rather than brainless emotion, even you would realize that, fiscally speaking, your daddy was effing ronald reagan compared to the likes of barack obama (oh, and for the record he wasn't even that crazy about black people either, your father--just ask sammy davis jr., who worked hard on his campaign and then as a reward for his efforts was pretty much told the only way he was gonna get into the inaugural ball was if he put on a waiter's jacket)--but of course, were you willing to look at things rationally, you'd lose not only your credibility but your very raison d'etre--and god knows that'll never happen long as you're still drawing breath, so i guess we can look forward to many more profound political pronouncements and endorsements from you on behalf of your father for countless years to come.

[and, truth be told, i'm not nearly as angry at you as i am at my fellow idiot americans who, against any and all reason, even now continue to be swayed whenever somebody with a pulse named kennedy opens their goddam yap--but hey, anger needs a focus, so indulge me a minute.]

[and further: note that i've omitted from this tirade any reference to the sole remaining viable second-generation kennedy--but then again, anybody who'd take seriously a guy who'd spend eighteen precious hours calculating damage to his political future rather than trying to save some poor girl who might still be gulping breaths of increasingly-stale air in the back seat of his submerged oldsmobile is so far beyond the scope of this discussion as to not even be worth consideration.]