A “BREXIT” BY ANY OTHER NAME…

by Joe Buonfiglio

Brexit Tweet

The pic above is a selection from my Twitter page exorcized as if a demon needing to be expelled from a head-swiveling child spewing up projectile-vomited pea soup in alarming quantities.

BREXIT is an abbreviation of “British exit” that refers to the possibility that Britain will withdraw from the European Union. By the time you read this, it will most likely be a done deal. However, at the time of this writing, the UK was just on the cusp of deciding if it should jettison itself from the EU and what many see as its burdensome economic anchor dragging Jolly Old and Associates down into the murky metaphoric waters of the Financial Abyss.

Is the European Union of countries and its tapestry of economic ties really harming the United Kingdom? I couldn’t care less.

Why?

Because even though any ripple effect from a poor choice by our former rulers of Stiff Upper Lippians could directly violate Uncle Sam’s wallet at some point, as an “Ugly American,” I tend not to concern myself with “all the way the fuck over there” unless our military has boots on the ground.

No, as a writer, what I am fascinated by is the term “Brexit” itself.

British. Exit.

Brexit.

It’s so delightfully simple that it’s downright sinful.

And that got me to wondering; are there issues I could distill down into more manageable bitesize morsels that would make my own life less complex by merely adding an “EXIT” sign to it?

Were the Brits onto something? Could it really be that simple?

If I didn’t want to pay my taxes, could I just IRSexit?

Instead of dealing with my night of binge burrito-eating horror, could I simply diarrhexit?

If you’re in an abusive relationship, can you just get the hell out of there? Seriously. There’s nothing funny about that. However, if don’t like where you were sent after death, just Helexit.

Don’t like spending Christmas with the in-laws? HoHoHexit.

Not a fan of Dr. Seuss? Ham and Greenexit.

Hate erotic romance novels? 50 Shades of Grexit.

Not enough beer at the party? Pony kexit.

Can’t stand ZZ Top songs? She’s Got Lexit.

You say that you don’t like that I sometimes use foul language in my blog posts. Then take your cue from the late George Carlin and: shexit, pexit, fexit, cexit, cocksexit, motherfexit and tits!

No, not texit. Who the hell wants to leave those. Don’t be silly.

So good luck, my British friends. Keep calm and carrexit.

 

© 2016 Joseph P. Buonfiglio     All Rights Reserved.

All photos are © 2016 Joseph P. Buonfiglio with All Rights Reserved.

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