A letter from Jail.

My Dearest,

Once again, I find myself in jail.

Facebook Jail.

Incarcerated for the crime of sedition and speaking thoughts that were not meant to be thought. Or spoken.

As you know, I am no stranger to this forsaken place. Indeed the memories are fresh and still inflict much pain.

Who can forget my first detainment? 24 hours in the hole for calling Earlene from Buckatunna, Mississippi, a "toothless, meth-smoking, Jew-hating hillbilly." That was a mistake on my part. And I'll never forget the embarrassment I felt when days after my release, Earlene sent me a photo of herself, proof positive that she was not toothless and had a limited smattering of back molars and incisors.

You'd think I would have learned my lesson. But the temptation to violate Facebook Community Standards is far too great. Which explains why Facebook Jail recidivism rates are off the charts.

Not long after the Earlene Incident, I was in hot water again with the Zo-Zo. This time for praying a pointy meteor would fall on the house of Senator Steve Daines, one of the dimmest congressional representatives in the upper chamber.

That infraction bought me 7 days in AdSeg.

Johnny Social Media Law doesn't fool around. Last week's transgression merited a full 30 days in Timeout. And I must admit, I still don't know what I did wrong.

I simply took a tragic photo of two immigrants face down in the waters of the Rio Grande -- a photo that had gone viral around the inter webs -- and attached a comment Precedent Shitgibbon had made about the Democratic debates, "Boring." It was nothing more than a juxtaposition to illustrate the heartless nature of the beast I call Captain Ouchie Foot.

Naturally I appealed the sentence. But Zuckerberg in all his wisdom has designed a review process that has all the efficiency of a Soviet era built toaster oven.

And so I have nothing but to serve out my harsh sentence. And subside on an unsatisfying gruel of Linkedin, Twitter and Instagram. The days will be long. I will continue to produce my memes but they will not be seen. Or Liked. Or Hearted. Or given flaming emojis.

If I were a religious man, I'd say this was all part of Big Sky Daddy's plan. This is my fate. Perhaps the time away will yield some healing. Perspective. Tranquility.

Of course, I'm not religious and see this as a twisted manifestation of political correctness gone wrong.

Suffice to say when I come back, the rhetorical and satirical knives will be sharper than ever.

Fuck You, Facebook.