Molly Ivins Advocates For Paid Vacations Over Reincarnation

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Dear God,

I know that I live next door to you, and we get drunk together every Sunday morning, but I thought it would be nice to slip you a letter anyway. It’s good to change things up some, and besides, it’s time for me to take a stab at writing again. So far, it’s been a little weird. I have no body, and so the typewriter kept falling through my lap until I learned to focus. Luckily, nothing breaks here. Little miracles, huh?

Truth be told, I’m writing you this special note because I have something I want to get off my chest. During my short stint in Texas, I failed to enjoy myself there. It was stupid, I know, but it’s the truth. I mean, I REALLY didn’t enjoy myself. Don’t get me wrong. I had a freaky time, but I didn’t have a stellar time. I’m embarrassed to say this, but I avoided having a great time. I was too scared, I guess.

While I could take my chances and get myself reincarnated to make up for my lost fun, I think I’d rather not. It’s too chancy. What if I become a mouse, a gnat, or a Republican? I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. I’d more than likely return here with a bloody gaping hole where my forehead was like young Kurt over there playing his $25 guitar. Not pretty, right? By the way, they’re still sorting through my wigs down there, just in case you missed it.

But that’s not my point. My point is not about me. I know I can’t change myself now since my body is worm food. It’s more important to me that the Texans on earth would give themselves a break. I was noticing that there were a bunch of parties and events celebrating St. Patrick’s Day across the Lone Star State, but very few happened to fall directly on March 17. I’m thinking this is because it was in the middle of the work week.

Now, I respect the opinions of my atheist friends. They make some valid points about your existence, Lord. George Carlin,  Bill Maher. and your man Satan of course tickle my funny bone. However, the fact remains that St. Patrick’s Day is still a drinking holiday, and yet it is not celebrated with Texans taking the whole day off. Sure, it was Spring Break for millions of students, but what about the working class heroes? Don’t they deserve a sip, too?

To this day, we Texans still don’t take time off to get blitzed for primary election day, election day, or even Texas Independence Day. For your Son’s sake, Cinco de Mayo is more of a drinking holiday in Texas. Though the Mexican general Ignacio Zaragoza was born in Goliad, Texas, it’s more of a Mexican holiday since their army routed the French. Thank you, Mexico! But that’s not right!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I apologize for all those exclamation points. My finger got stuck in the typewriter due to my unfocused emotional outburst. Anyway, it’s time Texans took more vacations from work, violence, and poverty, and what better way to do that than to (not get reincarnated and) get six weeks paid vacation a year for everybody in Texas. Everybody has a right to vacation, dammit!

Well, it’s in your hands in the end, Lord. I ought to get back to my cloud now. Liz Carpenter just arrived, and I want to introduce her to Nietzsche. Maybe he will “motorboat” us this afternoon thanks to you rejuvenating my breasts. One last thing, I suppose it would be too much to ask: Would you please to introduce me to the Prophet Mohammad, Peace be upon his sweet puppy dog eyes? I’m guessing it would…

Your Redheaded Step-Angel,
Mary Tyler “Molly” Ivins