The following post was written by frequent commenter "Jay-Ottawa."
Lothario was a charmer and, as for Columbia, she was dazzled by the words he spun into dreams. Her dreams were his dreams. True, he made none of the dreams happen and he continued to see other women. Tall, dark, handsome and, oh, that smile and, oh, so cool, so different from all her other suitors. Lote promised everything, so Colie said ‘yes.’
Like other wives of men with vague business and pockets full of money, Colie did not ask questions. He met people behind closed doors. He hired people he once called crooks. He himself began doing things he had said should stop. Even on their honeymoon, he continued to see other women.
Within months of the honeymoon Colie’s allowance for the household began to shrink. When she spoke up, he beat her. Was she some kind of purist? He was doing the best he could under the circumstances. One day he gave away their first born, Socia Surity, to pay off an associate, and later sent her favorite, Medicah, into an apprenticeship for a friend who really wasn’t a friend. Colie complained some more, and Lote beat her some more, then cut off her allowance entirely.
To hope forever is hell. So Colie, now in rags, ran off to the last shelter in town. Its motto was: “Do Not Complain” -- or DNC for short. Winnie Poop, the head counselor, heard Colie’s story and told her to run back to Lote’s arms.
“Really?” Colie was incredulous.
“Be realistic,” said the counselor. “Can’t you see your future will be even more bleak apart from Lote? You will end up on welfare, lose the kids, and spend your last days under a bridge. Do you realize you need major party affiliation to secure the best spots under bridges? Lote was committed to you. Count the emails begging you to come back. That’s more than you can expect from most guys these days. Believe me, in these times, you should not depend on the kindness of strangers.
“With Lote, at least you’ll have three squares and a roof over your head. If you do fall ill, at least you’ll have your own bed to die on. Kiss the fist that strikes the blow; he might be shamed into pulling some future punch. Didn’t you say Lote was nice once in a while? When he kicks you, jump nimbly. You’ll come to appreciate the days he doesn’t batter. You could never achieve such intimacy with other guys.
“Just remember there are worse monsters out there. Their motto is ‘Indifference Yesterday, Indifference Today, Indifference Tomorrow, Indifference Forever.’ Lote’s your man. Don’t let him down. He gives you a good day once in a while. Go home. Look at it this way: Lote is the lesser of two evils.”