To Whom It May Concern

Can I come live in your country?

To whom it may concern, in whatever beautiful country it may concern you,

Can I come live there?

And by “I,” I mean myself, my wife, and our two boys?

Can we move to your country for three years? Perhaps permanently?

Oh, and can we bring our dog, Sebastian? We’ll fill out the proper paperwork and get him the right shots and all that. You’ll love him. He’s silly and great. Here’s a picture.

See?

But do you think we can hurry up and hit go on this thing? I sure would appreciate it.

You see I’m writing this letter from the United States. I’m an American citizen. I don’t know if you’ve been keeping an eye on everything that’s been going on over here, but things have gotten pretty wonky. Lot of the carnival rides appear to be short-circuiting, and the carnies have responded by doubling-down on methamphetamines.

Hahahaha! It’s terrifying!

Long story short, the team that I root for lost the election, and the other team won, and turns out the captain of that team is a fascist dictator!

Like, for real for real.

At first it was kind of funny. His bombast. His delusional grandiosity. Like, sure big guy, you’re going to be king. Have fun. We have a system in place for that exact thing. That’s the whole point of our system! Democracy, baby! Do your worst.

Then motherfucker was like hold my beer.

Except he doesn’t even drink beer. That would be too normal. He eats McDonald’s every meal and pounds Diet Coke like a sad 80’s secretary, and he’s been doing that for fifty-plus years, yet somehow he’s still upright.

Anyway, turns out homeboy was taking notes during his first presidency because this time around he’s insanely efficient. I don’t even want to see his current stats, but I’m sure they’re record-breaking. In the paint, perimeter shooting, free-throws, you name it. Of course the stats are all illegal, but he doesn’t care. He’s just like so what? Stop my ass.

But the opposition is too feckless to do anything. They play defense occasionally, stop a few shots here and there, but for the most part it’s a bloodbath. Plus the refs are all in homeboy’s pocket so it’s just spinning out of control. And it feels hopeless.

Every day, there’s some shit this team pulls that you’re like no way. Absolutely no way. But it’s yes way, and then yes way becomes fact, then the next day they do something even worse.

And it makes you so scared.

Because you start seeing stuff about how this is exactly what the Nazis did during their rise to power. You see some post about the fascist play book—this deification of some fabricated glorious past, some nationalist fantasy when Americans were true Americans, and how we have to get back to that.

Like, what?

When was this supposed glorious chapter? Trail of Tears? Slavery? Jim Crow? Sure, America has done plenty of incredible things, but we’ve also done plenty of abhorrent things, typically concurrently. The only way to tackle any of it is to study the entire picture, right?

No. Not right. Fuck that. Don’t talk like that. Ban talking like that. Get back to that past. Make America Great Again, they say. And anyone who disagrees is enabling the criminals and the illegals who would stand in the way. The other team speaks openly like that, all the time. And they shut down the media. And they ban books; they target enemies, they literally round up people and disappear them. In broad daylight. Poof. Gone. And when they get caught they just go nuh-uh, you did it. Like some shitty kid you won’t let your kids play with anymore.

Every day for the past nine months has seemed worse and worse until you feel like you’re going crazy.

And here’s the thing: you came from persecuted people. Your ancestors were persecuted and vilified, pogromed and ghettoed, genocided and holocausted, and because of that you’ve always been obsessed with those stories. You’ve read so many memoirs, you’ve seen so movies. You’ve gone to every Holocaust museum. You’ve sat with survivors. It’s morbid, but you’ve always been drawn to it. You’ve never really known why, either. Maybe you were seeking some commiseration, some understanding of what your ancestors must of dealt with, must have felt. Maybe you were preparing yourself to recognize the warning signs. Now you’re seeing every one of them. Alarm bells are ringing in your brain, constantly. It’s so loud up there. You just want the ringing to stop.

So you call your shrink for the first time in a year. And she has an emergency session with you and tells you that it’s crazy not to feel insane right now. She tells you some tricks to calm yourself; she talks you off the ledge a little bit, then she casually lets slip that she has not one, but two sessions that very day with teachers from Evergreen High School. Teachers who witnessed yet another school shooting.

And all you can think about is how your oldest son just started public school, a little first grader, dropped into the system. And the school sent home an email recently about how they were conducting active shooter drills that day, so, you know, just a heads up. Then when your son told you about it later, he told you that they taught the class what to do if a fight spilled into the classroom. A fight. Not a lunatic with an all-too-available semi-automatic weapon meant for mass casualties and absolutely nothing else. A weapon anybody can just get. Because for some reason that amendment gets protected while the others get trampled. Tread upon, to quote the snake t-shirts.

And now you’re spinning out all over again.

Esteemed custom official, in case you could not tell, the you that I am referencing is I, Adam Cayton-Holland. I was employing second person direct address to make you feel the way I have been feeling, the way many people in this country have been feeling. I was able to use this device so effectively, because I am a writer.

Among other things.

Comedian. Occasional actor.

All of these are skills that I will bring to your country, and employ immediately. I’ll begin performing comedy in your nightclubs, offering first takes on your culture for the delight and merriment of your people.

I’ll familiarize myself with your television and radio stations, immerse myself in the world of local satire and literature. In time, I’ll come up with many projects that I feel could work on your airwaves. Hopefully one or more of these get green lit, and off we embark on a project—projects!—that will stimulate the economy while employing many artists and laborers.

I’ve been kicking the tires on a novel. Shall I set it in your fabulous country? Maybe some of the people who read it will feel inspired to come visit! I don’t know how you say primo tourism bucks in your language, but by god I’ll learn.

More than anything I hope to contribute in some small way to your culture from a place of hope, not fear. I’m so desperate to shed this fearfulness.

I can’t wait for you to meet my boys. They’re brilliant and silly. They are strong and playful and curious. Any country would be lucky to count them amongst their citizenry.

Surely their soccer skills will improve during our time in your country! Don’t tell the other countries this, but I’ve always found your country to be the best at soccer. Your style of play is so far superior to every other nation, when you don’t win the World Cup, it feels wrong.

My wife has begun substitute teaching. She is loving and capable. She has an insatiable knowledge for flowers and plants. She bakes exquisitely. She is thoughtful and kind.

Are these assets that your country needs, immigration officer? Will you have us? For three years? Maybe forever? We won’t ask for much.

Perhaps a nice little cottage by the sea. A stipend would be nice. Maybe help my wife find a good book club?

She de-facto runs hers here at home. It has become her entire social circle, a group of strong woman who try to be the change they wish to see in the world. They are inspired by her and she is inspired by them. It’s a beautiful thing. My wife doesn’t want to leave them.

I don’t want to leave my world either. I love the community I’ve created in Denver, my home town. Have you heard of it? It’s beautiful. Right at the foot of the Rocky Mountains. I love it here. My life is small and comfortable.

But the other team is making it insufferable, esteemed immigration officer. They blitzkrieg you with their hatred. They overwhelm you with their transgressions. Another part of the fascist playbook. Overwhelm. Exhaust. Easier to hide behind forty atrocities than atone for one.

I’m so tired of it. I just want to go.

But I know that’s exactly why I cannot leave now. I know now more than ever myself, and all decent people of this country, are needed to stand up to this assault. To not get exhausted, or exasperated, or mentally ill; because that’s exactly what they want. They want to make us so crazy that we quit. They want us to throw up our hands and walk away. So they can take over everything.

I also know that I’m not even the most vulnerable, the most persecuted. In fact, I’m one of the least. I’m a straight white man of relative means. I just happen to root for the other team. I’m the last one they’ll come for. They’re coming for those with different skin color, different sexual preferences, they’re coming for those who cannot present as the silly fabricated ideal that they aspire to get back to. Those more vulnerable than me need me more than ever to stand with them and fight with them, for us, for the country.

But I’m exhausted. The whole country has gotten sick. I used to get so mad about it. Mad at the inept democrats. Mad at the people that kept Bernie Sanders out of power in 2016, because he hurt their corporate bottom line. Mad at the centrists who said when they go low, we go high, when that’s not how you wrestle with pigs in the mud. I always thought we have to play as dirty as them, if not dirtier. We have to win however we can.

Now I don’t care. I don’t care enough to get pissed off anymore, to hate those who oppress us. I don’t hate anyone. Lately I find I’m loving everyone. They’ve warped and wielded Christianity as a weapon, as a justification, and somehow it’s making me more Christian. In that Jesus teaches love thy neighbor. Agnostic heathen though I am, I know enough to know that. I just want all of us to get along, as cheesy as that sounds. I want the fighting to end. Love is the only way to accomplish that. I really believe that. So, I’m trying to lean in.

I go through TSA at the airport and see fools in upside-down flag shirts and I think man we’re all just the same. We’re all just trudging through the daily annoyance of air travel. We all don’t understand why we can’t have four ounces of toothpaste. We all sigh the same when we’re randomly selected for a bag check. Even the TSA dude shrugs in those moments. Because he’s also the same. We’re all in this together. We’re all just trying to keep each other safe, as imperfect an effort as it. At the end of the day, we all just want to get home.

It’s not that complicated.

That lost ideal the other team yearns for? It has nothing to do with immigrants or transgender people, it has nothing to do with the books you read, or don’t. This fictional ideal that the team I root against distracts you with, if you really wish to think it can exist, then recalibrate your vision of it. Let it be decency, let it be kindness, let it be taking care of each other. Actually giving a fuck about the other. Not inspirational meme bullshit. Smiling more at strangers. Holding the door for people. Surrendering your seat on the bus. Giving a few bucks to the Venezuelan kid at the intersection.

We all know these things are right. Do them every day and let the ripples billow out. Vote for the people that seem the most emblematic of that, even if they’re phony. At least they know enough to see kindness as an asset they can use to their advantage. I’ll take even that.

But I’m worried we’re so far gone that it’s impossible now. I’m worried that the people here can no longer see it. That the divide has become unbridgeable.

So, I’ll keep fighting for the ideal, because I suppose I’m a romantic. I need not tell you that. You’ve read this far, customs official; I’m sure you’re thinking this is all a little woo-woo. A little kumbaya. But if this romanticism seems like something that might fit in your beautiful country, give us a visa. My family and I can be on the next plane. Our bags are packed, we’re excited to embrace your culture. We’re ready for our great adventure.

Even Sebastian is excited! Look, he’s got his toucan toy ready to go!

Maybe this is all naïve. I don’t know. I’m trying the best I can. All we can do is try.

So, I appreciate your time, and consideration, whoever is reading this, in whatever beautiful country you are reading it, and I eagerly await your response.

Until then, I’ll be right here in the U.S. of A, terrified, and fighting.

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October Shows!

Unless my letter worked, team, I’ll be hitting the road a bit this October, and I’d love to see some of you at shows!

First up, Vermont! Huzzah! I’ve heard the Vermont Comedy Club in Burlington is one of the true comedy gems out there, and I’m thrilled to be headlining there October 17-18. Please, please, please tell your friends! I want to make a good impression so they keep having me back. Plus it’s close to Canada, so if shit hits the fan, I can just leap across that border! Win win.

October 17-18 - Burlington, VT - Vermont Comedy Club - Tix

Then it’s off to Houston for a private mental health benefit show, but a public stand-up show at The Secret Group, a little jewel right down there in H-town that I try to hit whenever I can. Come on out, Houstonians!

October 23 - Houston, TX - The Secret Group - Tix

Then back to Denver for our regularly-scheduled Grawlix at the Bug Theater. This month we’ve got our pal Amy Miller headlining and she’s a board-certified crusher. Come on out, why don’t you?!

October 25 - Denver, CO - The Grawlix - The Bug Theater - Tix

Need more Bug Theater in your life? Of course you do! Ben Roy, Rory Scovel and I will be doing another installment of our unhinged show, Movie Night, on October 30^th! Halloween edish! These shows are an absolute blast. Get tix now.

October 30 - Denver, CO - Movie Night - The Bug Theater - (check my website for link soon!)

Looking ahead, I’m running my hour at the Skylark on 11/22 just because. I spent my twenties on South Broadway, and I miss it. I figure there’s a lot of you in Denver who may feel the same. So get yourself a sitter, head out to dinner beforehand, and let’s make a Saturday out of it.

November 22 - Denver, CO - The Skylark - Tix

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The Monthly Clip

God damn, Adam. Great clip. Way to go.

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Before you go, give the ole socials a follow

I love writing these. I hope you like reading them. Feel free to tell a friend about this Substack. And if you feel like contributing a few bones for customs paperwork, by all means consider a paid subscription!

Take care of yourself.