Every day in the United States, someone wakes up in poverty. Those people didn’t choose to live in poverty, and we didn’t choose to let them live in the United States—God made that choice for them when he made them filthy and unwashed and let them live in these goddamn United States. It’s time to wake up, America, and stop letting the vermin-ridden, unpleasant smelling poor live in our country.

Every day in the United States, someone wakes with asthma. Those people didn’t choose to wake up with asthma—God made that choice for them when he made them little wimpy girls who have half the lung capacity of a real man. It’s time to wake up, America, and turn to them and say: hey, you little pussies, why don’t you take some deep breaths for once, like real Americans?

Every day in the United States, someone wakes up next to a loved one with a goiter. They don’t get to choose whether or not they wake up next to the goiter girl—God already made that choice for them, when she got pregnant and I had to marry her, goiter and all. It’s time to wake up America, and realize what I wake up to every morning.

Every day in the United States, someone wakes up to a loved one with Down Syndrome. Or Cerebral Palsy. Or some other kind of Retarded. Every day in the United States, I don’t get to choose whether I wake up to someone who is retarded, and I don’t get to choose whether I can remember which kind of retarded, exactly, she is—God already made that choice for me, when she was retarded and I was also retarded and we happened to live in one of the two states where marriage between two consenting retards is legal. It’s time to wake up, America, and realize that someone you know wakes up to Retard Marriage.

Every day in the United States, someone wakes up to the cries of the little puppy nobody wanted. Day after day, the little puppy wakes up and asks in his little puppy voice, “Who will be my boy?” What that puppy doesn’t know, and America tries to ignore, is that he already has a boy, but that the boy doesn’t really feel like playing with a stupid puppy. God already mad that choice for them, when the boy was given a Playstation 2 for Christmas. Wake up you stupid puppy. Nobody wants you.

Every day in the United States, someone is woken up as ice-cold gold boullion is slid against his neck, breast-warm perfect breasts are slid against his thighs, and spicy-hot beef jerky is fed into his mouth. Make that Teriyaki. And instead of the breast-warm breasts, a pleasantly tepid vagina. No, no. All of it. Someone wakes up to gold and many varieties of beef jerky and various sex parts of a woman—God made that choice for that man, when he blessed me with the riches of India and the women of somewhere other than India. It’s time to wake up, America, and realize that all of you, even the chicks, wish you were me.