You know what? I can’t.
I’m sorry, America. I know you try really hard to keep me entertained (and spending), and God knows I love all the freedom you’ve given me. But I’m not going to the movies with you on Friday night. I know you’re shocked, and I know it hurts. But you shouldn’t be surprised. I mean, we’ve been over this.
Let’s go ahead and get this out of the way too: you’re going to try guilt-tripping me on Monday morning, by telling me that Meet the Spartans was # 1 at the box office. That won’t work. I’m used to it, and I’m not going to feel sorry. If anything, I’ll only worry more about you.
Honestly though, it’s not entirely your fault. The one I really blame is your friend Hollywood. He– don’t walk away from me, listen. He’s not the person you think he is. I’ve seen the way you act when he’s around you. He influences you, impacts your consciousness, and offers a skewed idealogical perspective. The main reason I didn’t want to meet you for opening weekend was because I knew you’d invite him. There are some serious issues we need to discuss, America. And I’d rather talk about them when you’re alone.
Until then…
