Many of us can be lulled into a false sense of security, and can be excused for living life in such a way as to avoid even thinking about our own mortality. However, life can throw you a curveball at a moment’s notice, and it pays to be prepared.
Take for instance if you find yourself in a medical emergency, wondering if your pro-MAGA, Republican husband has stopped breathing. Maybe you come home from work after your shift at the bowling alley and find him slumped over in his chair, the TV stuck on ESPN, and you know something’s wrong because your cousin doesn’t watch that channel when the “woke commies” are “injecting their libtardism” into his sportsball. Maybe you wake up after a long night’s sleep, and can’t tell if the black market fentanyl in his system has finally shuffled him off this mortal coil.
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What do you do? Call an ambulance immediately, to be sure. But while you wait for the medical professionals to arrive, there’s one sure-fire way to tell if your Republican husband is still breathing.
Ask him to tell you the truth.
If any words come out of your husband’s mouth after asking him to tell you something true, you’ll know two things right away. One, that your husband is lying, and two, that your husband is still breathing. That’s because, scientifically speaking, Republicans are literally incapable of telling the truth about anything; at least until it impacts them personally.
Climate change doesn’t exist until their half-horse town is blown off the map by the fourth hurricane that week. They don’t think LGTBQ rights are important until their own children come out to them (and even then, they will probably still not truly care.) But if you really want to know, for sure, if your Republican husband is breathing, ask them one, simple question.
“Who won the election in 2020?”
You’ll hear a long-winded diatribe, evidence-free accusations of fraud, and ultimately, the biggest lie they’re capable of telling. They’ll tell you the loser actually won, because of reasons. Once you hear about bamboo ballots, and the ghost of Hugo Chavez, you can rest assured knowing your bloviating, dumbfuck, idiotic, likely racist husband may be a bargain basement dumbass, but at least he’s a breathing bargain basement dumbass.
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Writer/comedian James Schlarmann is the founder of The Political Garbage Chute and his work has been featured on The Huffington Post. You can follow James on Facebook, Spotify, and Instagram, but not Twitter because Twitter is a cesspool.