Farewell Addresses To Your Soon-To-Be Exes, Written By Your Favorite Politicians

Alan,

You have insulted my supreme dignity by allowing your cesspool of American Imperialism to infringe upon my Netflix recommendations. Not cool. Now we will NOT Netflix and chill. Now we are at war.

You have continued to provoke me with such heinous and evil acts of streaming as The Interview and Grease 2. (You know I prefer the original because I once starred in my Swiss boarding school’s production! You. KNOW. THAT). You have also awakened this mighty sleeping bear’s anger, because you razz me every time I go to SuperCuts Pyongyang. So sue me for saving a few won! So now I will go launch my mighty missile (the biggest in the world, according to state media) for someone who will actually appreciate it.

—Kim Jong-Un, especially for you, Jen

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Kayleigh,

Washington is dominated by big money. One in four corporations doesn't pay any taxes. So to be completely honest, I’m not sure why I’m the bad guy for merely forgetting your birthday.  That’s ABSURD!

You've got the top 400 Americans owning more wealth than the bottom 150 million Americans. So maybe one of those 400 Wall Street fat cats should be the one to buy your precious Pandora bracelet charms. Because the middle class is disappearing, and...and...I just don’t like going inside malls. I’m not always a smiley kind of mall guy. Malls are utterly ABSURD!

Let us wage a moral and political war against the billionaires and corporate leaders, on Wall Street and elsewhere, whose policies and greed are destroying the middle class of America--not against me for occasionally forgetting to put the toilet seat down. Like 99 percent of men do that. We are the 99 percent.

When you start dating the next person you think is so hot right now, and then later it doesn’t work out, I want you to remember me and our time together and be haunted by the thought that maybe I could have taken you all the way to the altar. Now, we’ll never know! It’s ABSURD!

—Bernie Sanders, for Greg

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Fred,

Believe me, literally no one wanted this to work out more than I did. Like, I reaaaaallly wanted this to work out. So much so that my nose would start to bleed from pure desire most days. But we must go forward together, or not at all...in our case, that will be not at all. Because I believe we owe it to ourselves to go on all the good dates we can, for all the people we can, in all the ways we can, as long as we can. 

Every woman has the right to realize her God-given potential. Human rights are women’s rights and women’s rights are human rights! For instance, I have the right to be grossed out when you insist on pooping with the bathroom door open. 

Now that I think about it, you totally didn’t take care of me when I had pneumonia.

Delete your account.

—Hillary Clinton, for Valencia

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Erica, is it?

Baby, I did not have sexual relations with that woman. Oh, wait--that woman? Yeah….never mind. God bless America.

—Bill Clinton, for Dennis

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Donna,

For our first date, remember when I took you to that big, beautiful American bistro and promised to make the Mexican restaurant next door pay for it? But then they said, “No, why would we ever do that?” and then I forgot my wallet, so all the other American bistro patrons reluctantly chipped in for our dinners? (Don’t worry, that Mexican restaurant will pay us back later.) The point is, I’m an amazing boyfriend.

But you were never grateful. I singlehandedly saved your job from moving to the mall across town. I mean, technically yes, the store did move across town anyway, but after I threatened the manager on Twitter (I have all the best words), he agreed to let you stay at the old location. Yes, that location did close three weeks later--you’re welcome.

You build all these walls between us. At first, it was just figurative, but now you’re literally putting up walls in our luxury apartment (which is HUGE, so classy) so I can’t get to you.

Forget it. You’re so overrated, much like that loser Oscar, Emmy, Golden Globe, SAG Award, BAFTA, Cannes, People’s Choice,  Kennedy Center Honors and AFI Lifetime Achievement Award winner Meryl Streep. SAD!

—Donald Trump, for your stepdad Rick, probably

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Sally,

It’s good to be home! Now have a seat. We need to talk.

We’ve been together a long time. In living rooms and at school; at apple picking farms and on gallery floors; at diners and on distant B2B outposts — those conversations are what have kept me honest, and kept me inspired, and kept me going. And every day, I have learned from you. You made me a better partner, and you made me a better man.

If I had told you just eight years ago that we would date, that we would embark on the bold experiment of living together, that we would co-own a cat named Lieutenant Smuckers, you might have said our sights are set a little too high. But that’s what we did.

(If Sally begins to softly weep and chant, “Four more years! Four more years!” say this:)

I can’t do that.

Yes, our progress has been uneven. The work of dating you has always been hard. It has been contentious. For every two steps forward, it often feels we take one step back.

It’s almost time for me to move on. Through the instrument of Tinder, I will press on to form a more perfect union. Hey, hey! Don’t boo--no, no, no, no. I believe strongly in the peaceful transition of stuff. It is the foundation on which all relationships are built. And I commit to make this transition civil, just like my last ex did for me. So please just place my copy of Hamilton: The Mixtape and my secret stash of menthols on the stoop whenever it’s convenient.

But that won’t be enough. Hearts must change. Sometimes these things take a generation or more to heal from. Don’t retreat into your own bubble or worse yet, your own social media feed.

You took on this role of girlfriend you didn’t ask for, and you made it your own, with grace, grit, style and good humor. You made this a one-bedroom apartment for everyone, especially your mother, who honestly stayed here far more than I would prefer.

But I’m asking you to believe. Not in my ability to move on, but yours. The creed at the core of every American, whose online dating profile is not yet written: Yes we can date. Yes we did date. Yes we can now date other people.

God bless you. And may God continue to bless the United States of America.

—Barack Obama, for you. Always for you.