I regret to inform you of your son’s passing. I hope you will find comfort with the following: Richard Stack, or Rick Stack, as he was known by his fighting peers, died for our country, which he loved dearly. I might add, the United States reciprocally loved him in return. He sacrificed his life for the highest value, democracy, not to be confused with Democrats. To save you the embarrassment, I had to clarify that. A lot of people make that mistake. Most important, it was in no way my fault.
It is imperative that you understand, I am very new to this thing called empathy, if it’s really a thing at all. I am merely a neophyte, if you will, a newbie, an infant. Empathy is difficult. Listen, one day, I will allow you to feel my warm soft petite hands, and perhaps, maybe, maybe, and even maybe, you will have empathy for me.
Let me interject, I have never made acquaintances with an honest day of work. I was fortunate to have others do it for me. Believe me, if I could go back in time, perhaps I will, I would have so many people working for me that I would never have to feel guilt again. Truth be told, that’s all empathy really is. It’s just some huge guilt detector. In my new future, my people will protect me from it. By it, I mean empathy. Stick with me, Larry.
In closing, instead of grieving for your son, who is no longer with us, grieve for me, for I am still here. I am being coerced to send condolences to a complete stranger for wars I can barely tolerate, understand and pronounce.
Your pal President.
P.S. Was it just me? Were you as surprised as me to find out “that’s” how they pronounced Niger?
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