Dear Paul,
‘Sup bro? I mean, I know what’s up, because I’ve literally been supporting the weight of your head and body your whole life (get it? I’m your spine).
I held you up for years while you were an altar boy, a track star, the prom king, a husband, a father, and a promising, young congressman. I supported you through every workout, including the dumb photographed ones that made you look like you’re from “The Jersey Shore.”
I shivered with you when President Obama decided to require everyone — even poor people (UGH!) — to have health care. (Ayn Rand would never have stood for that… and neither did you and I during any of Obama’s State of the Union speeches. Yeah, bro!)
We were the best of friends. We did everything together, from P90X to putting Planned Parenthood on the chopping block.
Hell, I even held you up through a few crazy keg stands in college while you dreamed of cutting Medicare for poor people with your frat brothers!
We were walking tall (because we are 6’1”) as we climbed the ranks of the Republican Party all the way to Speaker of the House. The people loved us together, bro. Sure, it was mainly rich, white people with patriarchal, puritanical views of society looking for tax breaks, but you get the idea.
And then like half the girls you dated in college, you ghosted me, dude. NOT COOL, PAUL. I mean, I felt our bromance growing more distant as the 2016 campaign wore on. Like, I obliged you when you wanted to recreate that super creepy pic from “The Shining” with all the white, young Republican interns, but then you went and endorsed Trump against my wishes (seriously, bro?!), and I felt betrayed.
Who let you hold your head up so high for this weird ass pic, Paul? ME, THAT’S WHO!!!
After that whole “Access Hollywood” shit show where you finally took away your support of Trump’s campaign, I got all tingly because it looked like our bromance was about to be rekindled and stronger than ever.
But then Trump got elected and seduced you to the Dark Side of the Force with promises of swift executive actions and free reign to annihilate Obamacare and Planned Parenthood with the Republi-bros. And you made like our favorite white girl pop princess, T-Swift, and let me know we were never, ever, ever getting back together. And it hurts, man.
I mean, it must hurt you more, because I don’t really know how you even physically stand up without me. But whatever. I guess I outgrew you for once.
Anyway, let’s face it: you need me more than I need you, dude, and I have a feeling by the 2018 midterm elections, you’ll be begging me to come back.
But I’ve already moved on. You heard of this Evan McMullin kid from Utah? Well, he wants a commitment and possibly one of Utah’s congressional seats, and I’ve said yes. He’s standing up to Trump in ways you never would for me, and frankly, it’s all I’ve ever wanted.
Yeah, he’s Mormon, so bye-bye keggers, but he’s proudly and defiantly upholding the Constitution and putting country over party, and I need that right now. That’s who I really am, dude.
I’m just a spine, standing in front of a Republican politician, asking him to grow me.
Bye bye, Paulie bro. Don’t max out on consecutive gym days.
Take care, bro,
Your Spine
This piece originally appeared on The Belladonna.
