Recently, a strange and lurid meme has gone viral on the internet concerning JD Vance, Donald Trump’s choice as his presidential running mate, and also the author of the best selling memoir “Hillbilly Elegy.” And what was this meme you ask? Surely you know by now. The apocrypha of memes is endless, but this is the kind of wonderfully appealing meme that compelled an agnostic like myself to fall upon my knees and plead, “Oh god- please, please make this one true.”

I’m referring, of course, to the story of JD and the couch. Yes, the couch. As the meme goes, JD relates in his memoir that he, brace yourselves now, had sex with a latex glove shoved between two accommodating couch cushions. Hey, you may say, liberal elitist that you are, no big deal. In Appalachia, it could very well be a time honored custom, especially in regions where there is a dearth of sheep.

When Michelle Obama delivered her masterpiece of oratory at the 2016 Democratic convention, we all knew we were listening to something historic. But not just for its power and elegance. Here’s the pessimistic cynic in me, rearing its ugly head. When she delivered the most famous line in the speech, “When they go low, we go high,”in spite of the jubilant cheers in the convention hall, as the final word tumbled from her palate, I knew we were screwed.

Once again, the Democrats were willing to bring a butter knife to a gun fight. Appealing to the better angels of our nature only provides comic relief to the enemy.

Fast forward eight years. Through an odd alignment of celestial bodies, Kamala Harris is the Democratic nominee for the presidency. Oh how sweet if she were to win. Multi-racial Childless Cat Woman, scratching the wanna be fuhrer to humiliating defeat. And to whom should she give special thanks? The ultimate avuncular Dad Figure, her running mate Tim Walz. Eager to engage his counter- part JD in verbal combat on the debate stage, he threw the gauntlet. “Come on JD, get off the couch and debate me!” Thank you Tim Walz, and a special thanks to the darker angels of our nature. Yes, put away the butter knife. They’re way too ruthless, and their guns are always loaded.

In “Hillbilly Elegy,” JD writes about the poor white people he grew up with. People who have been stereotyped as lazy, quick to violence, alcoholic, opiate addicted and ignorant. His people. I read the book. I was expecting him to launch a robust defense of his people. But, inexplicably, in his book he reinforces the stereotypes. Which, somehow, brings me to Birtherism, a movement which became Trump’s cause celebre a few years before he descended the golden escalator, reluctant wife in tow, to declare his candidacy for the 2016 presidential election. His noble, patriotic impetus? The opening salvo was several years earlier when he spearheaded Birtherism. Barak Obama was not eligible to be a U.S. president because he was not a natural-born U.S. citizen, as required by article II of the constitution. The racist belief that Obama’s Honolulu Hawaii birth certificate was forged. Why, you may ask? Was there a cabal of progressive psychics in 1961 who foresaw that Obama would run for president 47 years later, and his true Kenyan birthplace would be a disqualifier ? Quick- forge a Hawaiian birth certificate, and make it look good! Birth notices were published in two separate Hawaiian newspapers. Friends of his mother remember clearly when he was born- in Hawaii.

But Birthers are difficult to please. Eventually, wanting this distraction laid to rest, the birth certificate was obtained, but the Birthers hollered fake! (an invective that became a mantra by MAGA Nation years later.) But couldn’t all of this be resolved with photographic evidence? Imagine if you will an irate man confronting his neighbor that he was having sex with his wife. The neighbor responds indignantly. “Outrageous- show me your proof!” To which the accuser responds, “Don’t give me that- show me proof you haven’t!” Whereupon the accused produces several photographs of himself not having sex with the accuser’s wife.

And so, president Obama, placate once and for all the endlessly suspicious citizens of Maga Nitwit Nation and show a few clear, unadulterated photos of yourself not being born in Kenya. Are you paying attention, JD? Two or three pics should do it, of you not having sex with a couch. That should get you off the hook and lay this nonsense to rest.

Unless, of course, a certain couch’s jealous hubby has pictures proving otherwise.