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Breaking Up with America
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Look. It's not you. It's me. No really. It's my problem. America, listen. Listen to me. God, you're beautiful. This is so hard for me.

I think we should spend some time apart. No, there's no one else. No, I am not in love with Canada. How could you think that? Yes, she has a very nice health care system, but that's not the point. I'm not comparing your murder rate with Britain. Don't be silly. You have a very sexy murder rate. Nobody can compare with your murder rate, you know that. What? Of course I don't think France is smarter than you. Why does it always have to be about France? Well, I'm not calling them "freedom" fries because that's just silly. Please, you have to stop with this French thing.

You see, that's just what I'm talking about. I can't disagree with you about anything. I can't have my own opinions. It didn't used to be that way with us. We used to talk to each other, but you won't listen to me anymore. And you've found God - which, I think is great, really - but you're so self-righteous all the time. You're so judgmental. Well, I'm sorry, but it's true. Anybody who you don't like is "evil." It's embarrassing. You can't talk to people like that. And stop blessing yourself all the time, for crying out loud. You bless yourself more than the Pope!

What's that? Traitor? Oh, that's good, who taught you that, Ashcroft? You know, who the hell are all these new friends of yours, anyway? Well, I'm sorry, I've tried to get along with them, but they're just assholes, America. And you know something? All of our old friends think so too. That's right. Nobody can stand to be around those jerks. And you've turned into one of them. That's why we didn't get invited to Nick and Lori's party this year. Well, let's see, last year, you cheated at Monopoly, hogged the guacamole, got wasted, and took a dump in Lori's tub, remember?

Oh, you're one to talk, Missy. That really takes the cake. I'm a liar? Hi "Pot," this is "Kettle" calling. Everything that comes out of your mouth is a lie. You've told me so many lies I've forgotten what the truth sounds like: "The moon is made of green cheese, the world is flat, war is peace, snakes don't have ears, mercury is good for you, I can do six hundred sit-ups," I mean, who knows? Who knows what to believe anymore? I don't! That's fine! Throw me out! Good, have Rumsfield over, fine! I'm moving in with Canada! She understands me! WE'RE IN LOVE!

Look, I didn't want to do this. I didn't want to fight with you. I'm sorry, America. I don't know, I don't think we should talk for a while. If you want, you can e-mail me. It's monitored? Well, WHOSE FAULT IS THAT?



end of essay
Craig Bridger Portrait Craig Bridger is a writer and an actor based in Brooklyn, New York. His freelance credits include The New York Times and The New York Observer. His first book, Surviving Groomzilla: A Bride's Guide, will be published by Citadel Press in 2008. Also, when he was in the 8th grade, his Christmas story Santa Claus? Who's He? took second place in a local competition and was published in an area newspaper. From that experience, he coined a professional motto: "Craig Bridger - Better Than Most 8th Graders." CSP will always be the first website to ever look at something Craig wrote and say "Sure, we'll publish this for no money." And for that, he'll always be grateful. He lives with his beautiful wife, Tara, and the world's coolest cat, Scout. | more essays by Craig
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