Buying an Island

You know how you sometimes hear about billionaires buying their own islands? I’ve decided I need to do that, and have implemented a two-part plan to make it happen. Turns out it’s a surprisingly simple and straightforward process, too:

1. Become a billionaire.
2. Buy an island.

Easy-peasy, right?! I don’t know why more people aren’t going this route themselves.

Why an island, you ask? It’s not because I love coconuts (though there is that, too). The real reason is, too many people are pissing me off these days. Take this whole Syrian refugee drama. I don’t understand what all these governors are thinking by “refusing to allow” (as if they even had the power to do such a thing!) Syrians seeking refuge into their states. By their own muddied logic, should’t they also ban refugees from France? 87.5% of the terrorist suspects in the Paris attacks were French nationals, after all. They’re singling out the one guy who isn’t.

OK, so we’ve pretty much come to expect as much from the Republicans. What disturbs me is my so-called Facebook friends who “like” and share posts promoting these ass-backwards agendas like Greg Abbott’s open letter to President Obama. Jesus Christ, my own friends are all drinking the Kool-Aid, too. It’s ridiculous and maddening. Fear-mongering has become the new national pastime. I’m thankful for people like Jay Inslee, who makes me proud to call Washington state home. A voice of reason and compassion in a sea of hate and bigotry.

I know know what their America looks like, but this is mine.

My Facebook status today reads,

Hey, if there are any Syrian refugees looking for shelter, I’m happy to put you up! Just sayin’.

And I mean that. Of course, you’ll have to sleep on the couch and contend with a couple of rambunctious fur-shedding cats, but I’m sure that’s more than a fair trade-off given your current situation.

Which leads me back to my island.

I think I’m just going to create my own Land of the Free and Home of the Brave. I’ve even got a snappy name for the place: Marklandia. My borders will be open to all refugees, be they Syrians, French, Cubans, or Martians. We’ll have universal healthcare, gay marriage, competitive minimum wages, free education, green energy policies, legal weed (why not?), and the strictest gun control laws on the planet.

My parents are rolling over in their graves after reading that, I’m sure. And they’re alive and well.

Now, I just need to find a spare billion or two. And a really good boat.