My dearest Eugenista,

I write to you with a heavy heart and a shaking hand. It was never my wish to be away from you and the children on this day of all days. As you know, when fate calls upon us to act, we have no choice but to answer its klaxon call. Though I should be at home with those I care for most, that intrepid foe, the godless liberal, has been leading a war most ignoble on a veritable pillar of our hearts. I speak, of course, of this War on Christmas.

The commu-social-libs have taken the Starbucks on Main. You have seen them, no doubt, parading about with their hot beverages in cups that do not reference Jesus Christ in any way. It’s as if they do not know that the only true way to consume hot chocolate is through the vessel that is our Lord and Savior. I trust you shielded the children’s eyes from such depravity.

I do believe I overheard one of their high ranking Elites droning on about cancel culture, no less. No doubt, they are producing more memes which shall be used in their War on Christmas. Their savagery is not satiated for more than a moment. First our Christmas cups, then what? Does their thirst for inclusion know no bounds? They surely cannot know the grievous wounds they inflict on our way of life, else they would know we want nothing more than to keep Christ in Christmas while we trample minimum wage employees at midnight in a big box store roughly a month before Christmas actually happens. These godless monsters want to see every man, woman and child housed and fed, and their perverse minds see the only way to do so is to take away those golden idols we cherish.

Well, if those monsters want to espouse cancel culture, then rest assured, I shall never go to THAT Starbucks again. As is our way, I shall vote with my dollars, no doubt as God would want. Did His own Son not flip the table of the money lenders in His Father’s home, no doubt shocked that the financial institution did not leverage the interest rate better, that they might generate greater profits?

Eugenista, my dearest and truest love, it weighs on my heart to know that my crusade keeps me away from you and our children. Be sure to tell the boys that their father is a hero, because it would warm my heart to know someone else might think that, too. Tell them their father loves them, no homo.

We march on to that most vile liberal nest: The public library. To think, they make no moves to monetize anything! All those souls coming and going through those doors, and not one merch table. It’s as if they don’t understand it’s absolute madness to just PROVIDE something for people.

I hope to see you soon, where we will surely celebrate the fall of the liberal forces, and know the warmth of saying “MERRY CHRISTMAS” openly and with pride. Do not fret, I use pride as our forefathers intended, which is to say, a refusal to acknowledge other cultures without some note of mockery, in this grand melting pot we call America.

With appropriate

fondness,

Paulivance

Jurisprudence Wartaug

Paul Wartaug is a Nashua native. His column appears periodically in The Sunday Telegraph.