Letter to an Undercover Brother

Dear Undercover Brother,

The CIA  Memorial Wall inside the entrance of the Central Intelligence Agency Headquarters which currently has 102  stars engraved for each member of the agency that gave of his/her life in the line of duty.  Names of those are listed in the book below, w
The CIA Memorial Wall inside the entrance of the Central Intelligence Agency Headquarters which currently has 102 stars engraved for each member of the agency that gave of his/her life in the line of duty. Names of those are listed in the book below, with a 37 not being listed and will remain Secret for the nature of the work they were doing. Photo: Greg E. Mathieson Sr. / MAI

I’ve often wondered if you were actually an undercover Social Justice Warrior (SJW) masquerading as a champion of men’s rights activism, libertarianism, atheism, and Ayn Rand. I say this because you seem to be hellbent on disgracing and discrediting every single cause you publicly espouse. You’re not particularly good at hiding your blight under a bushel, Plebb. Regardless, I’m done with your idiocy, which is kind of amazing because I have a ridiculously high tolerance for idiocy. I’m not sure if you realize this, but you’re every quote-hunting SJW’s wet dream. A kind of retarded gift that keeps on giving. A veritable slot-machine of stupid that pays out every time. With friends like you, a movement really doesn’t need enemies.

I’ll leave you with this piece of unsolicited advice: If you really love the repulsive causes you espouse day after day in Social Media Land, find a shovel, a big shovel, and go outside right now. Dig a hole, a really deep hole. Then crawl down into it. And stay there. Forever.

But if you’re actually deep in enemy territory, doing the Lord’s work—incognibro, as it were—then please accept my heartfelt apology and carry on, soldier. Seriously, dude, you’re doing a bang up job! And if you should ever fall in the service of our fair country, please know that we’ll be sure to put a star up on the Memorial Wall at Langley for you.

—John Faithful Hamer, The Goldfish (2016)

About John Faithful Hamer

John Faithful Hamer is a college professor who still can't swim, drive, or pay his bills on time. His sense of direction is notoriously unreliable, yet he'd love to tell you where to go. His lack of practical skills is astounding, and his inability to fix things is renowned, yet he'd love to tell you what to do. His mismanagement of time is legendary, as is his inability to remember appointments, yet he fancies himself a philosopher and would love to tell you how to live. He wouldn't survive in a state of nature, of that we can be sure; but he's doing quite well in the big city, which has always been a refuge for the ridiculous, a haven for the helpless, and a friend to the frivolous.

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