Dear Mister President,
Fucking shit. I just got off the phone with my automobile insurance company, and by god I am pissed.
My insurance doubled. You heard that right…DOUBLED. I bet you’re scratching your head right now.
Well hell, I’ll tell you…A red headed whore named Courtney likes my husband’s dick.
You wanna know what other kind of dick she likes? Horse dick. I stalk her on that social media. She’s a big ol girl. Snuggled up to and eye fucking a horse. Yep he left me for a damn horse whore. And my insurance rates went up. I mean fuck damnit. Those insurance Bitches think I can’t see the road though my tears? They got it all backwards. LeAnne is 10 and 2 now. I ain’t pissed off all the damn time. They should have raised my rates cause I WAS married. Mother fucker used to sit beside me while I was driving and gawk at his porn machine. He was a titty man. I took a right turn and an empty 40 rolled right up next to my foot and I smacked him upside the head with it. Busted the bottle and his head wide open.
My husband and Big Red ran up my credit cards to buy fucking horse shit before he left me. My credit is shit and I don’t have a damn pot to piss in. And the insurance company says my low credit score “increases my chances for me filing a claim.” They can’t do that in California. I should move there, but I don’t like the people there and I figured out why. There’s not as many trees in California as there is in my North Cakalacky. Trees give off oxygen. Little oxygen deprived Californian brains. I’ll just pay the damn insurance. I ain’t moving there. FUCK THEM.