On July 4, 2018, just as Alex Jones foretold, the liberal elite sparked a civil war in the United States to unseat President Donald J. Trump. What follows are actual letters from the front lines of that war.
My Dearest Brittany,
As the Battle of Brooklyn rages on outside my window, I am unsure how much longer we can go on like this. This war may end me, but know I will be thinking of you, or one of my three other current Tinder matches, until that end arises.
I am well currently, but alas, one of the lucky ones. We lost half our regiment last night when it was discovered that some gluten got mixed in with our rations. I had the kale salad and am therefore fine and able to write you now. Unfortunately, the same can’t be said for Justin. We contacted his family yesterday, who brought him some nuts and hummus to hold him over until the mess hall could properly clean the cookware.
You may have heard that I got called into battle yesterday and are fretful about my current state; don’t be. I re-posted a meme of the President in diapers and had to withstand an unpleasant Twitter ratio due to fat-shaming, but now I am fine.
If you receive this in good vigor, please consider sending a soy latte or iced half-caf, as my nerves are too frayed for a full caf.
I hope to see you once again someday. Perhaps at Bodhi’s on Friday.
Yours in the resistance,
Brandon, my love,
I hope this reaches you. I have no idea how much longer we’ll be here on the front lines, but if you could remember to call the dog walker if you’re still planning to go on that hike Thursday, that’d be great. You know how Chompsky gets when he hasn’t been properly exercised.
I am exhausted. I corrected the grammar and punctuation of 17 people on Facebook today, and there doesn’t seem to be any end in sight. My only consolation is that I am truly making a difference in this fight.
P.S. Will I see you on Thursday for Queer Eye?
Dude. Where are u? We’re all here.
I thought you said West 4th.
No. EAST 4th, dumbass.
K. Be there soon. Don’t let them start without me.
We can’t, Ryan. You have all the body paint.
[Ryan was never heard from again. Someone said he moved to Pittsburgh with a cheesemonger from Whole Foods.]
We can never know the whole stories of these warriors. We can only hope they survived to continue the fight.