Madonna, I would like to divorce you too please.

We’ve had a lot of fun together, making up dance routines to your music, dabbling in new religions and wild undergarmets. You’ve always been there for me. Like the time you used your man-strength to open that jar of pickles I struggled with, or when you crushed various nuts with between your sinewy, iron thighs for my family to enjoy at Christmas time.

But things have gotten weird. I’m pretty sure you put me in a headlock during sex the other night and wouldn’t let me go until I called you ‘Madge.’ And then you made me eat nothing but halal meat and lentils for two weeks straight! There was also that one time we went to a Yankees game, and I could tell you were suspiciously excited by the way the veins in your forehead bulged.

Regardless, I’m pretty sure this is over. Soooooo…if you don’t mind….I’ll just be taking my $90 million CAD and be on my way. Toodles! Peace be to Kaballah and all that.



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