Dear Donald Trump and other fat pieces of shit,
You’re making the rest of us fatties look bad.
Whenever people turn on the TV, the radio, or YouTube, one of you fat pieces of shit is screaming about Muslims or Mexicans. People can’t walk more than a block in most cities before hearing a fat piece of shit call a woman a bitch or a piece of ass. People can’t even go to the bathroom without you fat pieces of shit playing dick police.
Thanks to you fat pieces of shit, the only fatty-positive representations we have left in society are Santa Claus and fat Buddha. We don’t even have Al Roker anymore. You fat pieces of shit have tarnished the fatty brand so much, society has turned against us in the fight to cure type II diabetes.
You’ve made “fat” and “piece of shit” synonymous, and that affects us all.
Just the other day, some guy said I had the tits of a man who killed Obamacare. No, sir. I have the tits of a man who needs Obamacare, especially its protection for pre-existing conditions like obesity, ruptured discs, depression, and CIBHM (Couch Induced Butt Hair Matting).
You’ve made “fat” and “piece of shit” synonymous, and that affects us all.
At the grocery store, a lady shouted at me that I couldn’t take away a woman’s right to choose just because I looked 69 months pregnant. If I had a nickel for every time I heard that one, I could fund Planned Parenthood through an entire Republican presidential term.
When people blamed me for earthquakes in Kansas and Oklahoma, I thought, finally! We’re back to normal. But no, turns out they thought because I eat like there’s no tomorrow, I must frack like there’s no tomorrow.
Persuading you to stop being a piece of shit is impossible. Once you’ve been pinched out of someone’s asshole, there’s no going back. After all, your ideas about race, class, sexuality, and gender were formed when the science wasn’t yet settled on centaurs.
If thousands of years of social, cultural, and technological advancement haven’t convinced you being a piece of shit is bad, nothing can. So, as much as I cheer on heart disease in your cases, I’m asking you pieces of shit to stop being fat.
Because you’re committed to being a piece of shit, you need a weight loss plan which preserves your lifestyle while it cuts pounds. Unlike trendy diets and heart attack-inducing exercises, bulimia is that safe, easy way to cut fat while eating beyond your considerable stomach capacity. Bulimia does have a drawback. You might feel awful puking up food that cost more than the weekly salary of the help who has to clean it up. That happens when your puke muscles get tired. Midway through your binges, you’ll want to start chasing the foie gras with laxatives so you can workout your backend.
But what if you’re a fat piece of shit who resents having to puke and poop? You paid for those turds, and if you could, you’d store them in your cheeks before you’d flush them over to the communists at the water treatment facility. Then consider the capitalist spirit animal: the noble tapeworm. This unconventional weight-loss method is for fat pieces of shit who aren’t necessarily gluttons but who’d still rather feed an intestinal parasite before feeding anyone else.
A Madagascan tapeworm will consume up to 99% of the food you eat, leaving you just enough calories for basic body functions, just as our founding fathers intended. Obviously—with fewer calories—your body must become more efficient. Consequently, you may experience some discomfort as your organs switch to a market-based approach to nutrient supply.
Even with several extra years tacked onto your reign of darkness, I still look forward to a piece-of-shit-free future for fatties. I miss the low point of my day being the long trudge from the back of Walmart to the front of Walmart with everyone knowing exactly why I have a new toilet seat tucked under my arm. I want to go back to being thankful sleep apnea didn’t murder me in the night. Mostly, I just want to go back to being judged by the girth of my waist, not the content of some piece of shit’s character.