“So Medicaid, sending it back to the states, capping its growth rate. You and I have been dreaming of this since we were drinking out of a keg.” —Speaker of the House Paul Ryan on Medicaid cuts, March 17, 2017
Ayn Rand shows up to my dorm somehow and, even though she’s 82-years-old, she’s super hot. I recite my favorite Fountainhead passages by heart and, next thing I know, it gets so steamy that we come up with a way to dismantle welfare.
For some reason, I’m in my underwear on stage at the frat comedy showcase. I’m so nervous it’s like I’m not a white man. Then, right there on the spot, I blurt out: “Universal Health Care!” The guys can’t stop laughing and I win first place.
A Poor shows up to the frat and tries to join. Per protocol, we keep 10 feet away, to avoid contagion. But I was brave. I somehow obtain a Star Wars lightsaber and vanquish It in front of all my brothers and they cheer so hard. They make me a cape out of $100 bills and smear my body with endangered species caviar.
I’m on a magic carpet ride with the girl of my dreams. She is just a copy of the National Review with boobs, but I don’t care because I’m so in love. And I think to myself: When I get older, I’m going to marry her and make sure she won’t have access to basic reproductive care or bodily autonomy.
I’m walking to class and everything looks totally normal. Then out of nowhere a weak, wrinkled specimen (I believe they call these Old People) approaches me asking for coins to catch the bus. I kill him so he doesn’t feel ashamed for having to ask for handouts.
Ronald Reagan shows up to my dorm somehow and, even though he’s 76-years-old, he’s super hot. I recite his best speeches by heart and, next thing I know, it gets so steamy that we come up with a way to defund the entire government.