To My Dearest Daddy Britain

Dearest Daddy Britain,

It’s been a while, so I figured it was time we got back in touch. We are so sowwy about the things we said to you back in the day – you know we didn’t mean when we said “No taxation without representation!” and “I hate you, George!” Perhaps we did play a wittle hard to get when we threw all your tea into the sea, kicked you out of our houses, formed an army, allied with the French, absolutely wrecked your forces and then stormed out of your empire, but we can put that behind us now, right? This whole independence was fun, but I think we – everyone in the USA – have finally learned our lesson. We need you back in our country big boy, now. Our government shut down for like 35 days in a row because we got into a wittle disagreement, and quite honestly, we really miss you right now. Sure you were a bit strict, but damn, the way you dominated our lives from afar was so fucking hot. We miss the firm grasp you had on our liberties, and how you tried to suppress our rebellion by shoving your massive, overwhelming military into our sensitive Eastern seaboard. We just can’t take not having you inside us anymore, so please recolonize us, daddy.

We’ve been naughty with our rampant political polarization and inability to get shit done. We might be a divided nation, but we are united in that we all want you to invade our sovereignty and make us your little bitch. Our politicians bicker, whine and make promises they can’t keep. But I know you wouldn’t do that to us, would you daddy? You would give it to us the way we deserve it, raw. The thought of a dominant government that won’t leave us for petty shit makes us quiver with desire. We are on our knees begging you to come back and whip us into shape. Don’t worry, this time we’ll do whatever you tell us to, daddy. We want you force our government to open up and thrust your political agenda down our throats, making us take it all at once. We will let you tax this shit out of our tea and let you quarter your soldiers in our houses. We’ve been a bad, bad country, and we ache for your iron rod of British discipline, so just get over here and take us already.

Yours lovingly,

America