I Write Letters

To Whom It May Concern:

I don't give a flying fuck how frequently John Boehner cries.

I don't even care if he cries only after he's had a couple glasses of wine. If he's drinking "too much," that's his business, not mine. Crying during speeches and interviews doesn't interfere with his ability to do the job taxpayers are paying him to do.

The guy is evidently deeply moved talking about his country, servicemembers, and his family, and, although I couldn't more profoundly and thoroughly disagree with him about the best way to protect and honor this country, its servicemembers, and its people, and couldn't hold more utterly in contempt his ideas about what the American Dream is and the role BOOTSTRAPS! plays (and privilege doesn't) in achieving his version, I would nonetheless find it unseemly to use my fervent belief that his ideology is garbage as justification to make hay out of what I estimate to be authentic emotion.

And, fuck it. Even it isn't authentic emotion, I'm a feminist. Even though Boehner himself would sneer at my defense of any person's right to express emotion free from gender-based criticism, it doesn't matter. That's not how feminism works.

Cry on, John Boehner. Cry on.

Love,
Liss

P.S. I don't care whether he tans, either. For the record.