What I didn’t know was in my Big Beautiful Marriage Contract
Many provisions were unknown to me
Jeffrey Denny
At nearly 1,000 pages and countless provisions simmered in a rich gumbo of liberal Deep State legal mumbo-jumbo, my marriage contract was too much to suffer through before the powerful justice of the peace said, “Just sign it, for fuck’s sake.”
I mean, who the hell reads anything longer than this sentence before deciding important things?
Besides, trust is the bedrock of any successful marriage that irritates divorced people. And love is blind, like you get trying to read the microscopic print of the marriage contract privacy disclaimer. So I just checked it off.
In doing so, apparently I agreed to relinquish all privacy rights. Not just to Pam Bondi’s dossier team that, behold! has no dossier, but also to my beloved.
Giving up privacy for marriage is awesome, since even disgusting intimacy is the cornerstone of even failed marriages.
According to my vows, I’ve given spouse the right to wallow in all my dirty laundry, including my dirty laundry. Starting with my secret, shameful addiction to Hungry-Man Salisbury Steak TV dinners, their impact on my laundry, and why in God’s name do we go through so many cases of Costco’s Kirkland Signature Triple Satin 3 Ply Toilet Tissue every month?
To check what “constitutional” rights I still have, I asked AI to summarize my marriage contract and the highlights.
Even without AI, I can summarize my reaction: Are you sure, dearest? For instance:
We’re going deeper into debt
We’ll be blowing through our household budget every year and making bankers and even our friends, frenemies, and enemies richer by borrowing to the hilt from anyone who still believes in us, despite everything.
We’ll be paying far more for interest on our debt than we do for food, shelter, Trump tariffs, daily Amazon deliveries, and Netflix, Hulu, Paramount, YouTube, Apple+, Disney+, HBO+, and Tubi, whatever the hell that is. (And we still have to rent the very worst of Adam Sandler for $4.99.)
We’ll also pay more for debt servicing than for healthcare. Speaking of,
We’re paying less for healthcare
Seems I also agreed that to protect our family, our borrowed money would be better spent on a massive buildup of home security. Since liberal “soft power” diplomacy to influence criminals, such as the legal or illegal immigrants who tend our home and nanny our kids for a dime on the dollar, is woke and weak.
My marriage contract says we don’t care if I get sick, suffer, and die from a lack of affordable healthcare. She’ll somehow carry on. “Carry on” means drunken celebratory partying like she never did before.
We’re making our rich uncles richer
We vowed to honor and cherish each other. I didn’t realize that extends to all family members whom we bring together.
So we need to cut costs and pay more taxes to help our multimillionaire Trumpy uncles finally join the Billionaires Club. We hope their greater wealth might trickle down to a few invites to their several lavish seaside resort homes, even if we can’t afford the air fare.
We don’t care about the poor
Our marriage was sanctified by our wedding reader, who quoted the shopworn, eyerolling 1 Corinthians because he lacked a decent shred of irony, or has the greatest sense of irony ever. But this says we’re married in the Christian faith under God.
So we’ll be tithing a big chunk of our income to our God-fearing real American millionaire megachurch rock-star preacher instead of wasting more of our goddamned fucking hard-earned taxpayer dollars on stupid poor desperate people, here or in shithole countries.
But all in all, our marriage agreement, while the best ever, is making our marriage greater.
Jeffrey Denny is a Washington writer.
