Letter from Penny in Pennsylvania: Forget You, Barack

From The Huffington Post


Note: Writing this post helped this Pennsylvania girl — me — to lighten up in the midst of a contentious campaign season. I hope it provides a few laughs.

Dear Barack,

Since you have got BIGGER and BETTER things to do than speak with me in person, I’m writin’ this letter. Before I get out of TOWN. I will always love you Barack, but I WILL NOT be there on Tuesday. That’s right, I WILL NOT BE THERE.

If you can take time out from sipping lattes with your San Francisco buddies, I’ll tell you why, okay?

You just didn’t get me. You never got me, Barack, and now it’s too late.

When you came here, you lit up my world. When you talked about hope and change, you got me so hot I had to go change. I loved you, Barack. I LOVED YOU!

I remember the time we went bowling. Do you? You threw so many gutter balls everybody started callin’ it “The Altoona Massacre.” I know that must’ve hurt your ego but I thought you looked so classy and fine.

I did not let them laugh at you. I stuck up for you, my cool caramel love.

And when that annoying guy started botherin’ you for an autograph I told everybody you were no snob.

You’re so used to jet-setting around to places like Californ-I-A and Hawaii, turning on the charm, and having everybody fall for you right away, that you forgot here in Pennsylvania we’re a little more conservative.

You never took the time to understand that, goin’ for cheap girls like that “Obama Girl.” I mean, doesn’t she even have her own name? Is that what you want, a girl who shakes it in SKIMPY CLOTHES and acts like she’s ready to do it with the WHOLE WORLD watching?

After her, you probably thought I’d just fall under your spell like all the girls in Iowa, Wisconsin, and South Carolina.

You told me you respected me. And I believed you.

But I still needed time, and instead of being cool with that, you started ignoring me. Then you started puttin’ me and my family down AT PARTIES WITH YOUR COOL FRIENDS like I was some kind of LOSER!

You know what I’m talking about. Mayhill Fowler told me all about it. You said my Mom and Dad and Uncle Joe and Aunt Vi and Little Vincent are a bunch of bitter, church-clinging, rifle-toting hicks. Maybe those weren’t your exact words but you know what you said and I know what YOU MEANT.

Maybe we ARE hicks. But if you really want me, get off your high horse and see we’re good, strong people, too.

That part about how we do stuff like hunt and pray because we’re “bitter” was way off. Do you understand Uncle Joe got his foot caught in that bear trap because he was hunting to put meatballs on the table?

Or that those people from the church came over two, three times a week to help keep Uncle Joe’s spirits up while he got better (That’s BETTER, not BITTER, Barack!) That they did it cause we’re a community, cause they’re KIND. Nope, you just figured we got nothing better to do.

Well, maybe we don’t.

But that don’t make it true what you said. We could do a lot worse. Mostly we do what we do out of love, and self-reliance, and because we have a sense of family and community–those same things you’re always goin’ on and on about, Barack!

So why were you PUTTIN’ MY FAMILY DOWN?

I know why. ‘Cause I WASN’T PUTTIN’ OUT!”

And after that, you expect me to show up for you on Tuesday?

Everybody acts like you’re such a God, Barack, and for a long time, I was so in awe, I was afraid to tell you you were rude–but my Aunt Vi told me to stick to my guns, and that is what I intend to do.

So, here is what I have to say to YOU: You’re supposed to be all about understanding differences, but then you dissed our guns and religion, and said we are the way we are because we’re bitter. You just don’t get us.

If you want me, you’d better apologize and show you’re trying to appreciate where we’re comin’ from, and not just sweet talkin’. Otherwise, you will not see me on Tuesday.

Your loss, Barack.



P.S. Some day, if you make it to the White House, you will look back and remember how our eyes met across that crowded bowling alley and you will look for this Pennsylvania girl and I WILL NOT BE THERE!

P. P.S. Because I am not bitter, I wish you a nice life.

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