Dear Mr. Kaepernick,

Until a certain morning earlier this year, I have to admit I hated you. I really did. I admit it. I loathed your ignorant moralizing, your petulant propagandized virtue signaling, your carefully compartmentalized social outrage that ignores 7,100 black-on-black homicides a year, 43% of black babies aborted in the womb, 82% illegitimacy rates, the thousands of violent assaults on law enforcement, hundreds of attempted murders and the nearly 200 police officers a year killed in the line of duty as you dishonor flag and fallen to take a knee for a dozen or so wrongful police shootings each year. Even moreso, I abhor your silent embrace of the Muslim religion which oppresses, brutalizes and kills millions around the world.

Without a single word of protest or taken knee by you.

Much as I’d like to say that my Christian faith has allowed charity and goodwill to accompany thoughts of you, as a lifelong football fan who grew up colorblind to the heroes of both the NFL and major league baseball, I cannot deny my hatred. It would be a lie. The division and strife and exacerbated racial tensions in our nation are a transparent ploy that harms all of us for the perpetuation of a false political narrative to empower socialist ideology, cultural Marxism and the ending of America. Precisely the same phony racial formula now brought to Communist genocidal fruition in South Africa. But you know all that. And still, you play their willing stooge, helping to destroy our unity and burn our proud American culture to the ground.

And so, my hatred for the lies you tell, the ideas you sell and the resulting social chaos and misunderstanding leave me to boil inside, knowing as I do the ultimate intended destination of those running this sociological experiment cloaked in jerseys and shoes and Sunday spectacle. Beyond your ideas and ideals and your ignorance of your cause, I admit, my hatred extended to you personally and your behavior. (And your ridiculous haircut.)

Until that certain morning, that is.

In the game of life, some quarterbacks are known for their long ball and some are just known for throwing bombs. You made your choice long ago.

You see, Mr. Kaepernick, as a lifelong observer of market forces with more than a passing understanding of what it means to sell the headline and buy the fact, your newfound marriage to the Nike brand offered an investment opportunity as predictable as shortselling facebook off of their ridiculously inflated IPO or following Carl Icahn into the hole in buying Netflix at a tenth of what it sells for now.

And so, following similar instincts that told me the NFL was cooked when I saw their Monday Night Football ratings in the first week of the season last year, and told me that Dick’s Sporting Goods removal of AR-15’s from their shelves would mean an automatic decline in market capitalization, I seized an opportunity and sold your new, Swooshy sponsor brand short in amounts that make sending you a thank you note almost a pleasant and passing amusement.

It was a very good morning, indeed.

And so, In your honor, I’m donating a not inconsiderable portion of a very sweet “quick hitter,” to the reelection efforts of one Donald J. Trump. You may have heard of him. While your NFL buddies who were actually good enough to keep a roster spot have been kneeling for the anthem and pissing on the graves of our fallen heroes 17 weeks of the year, Mr. Trump has delivered record low unemployment rates to the black and Hispanic communities, solidifying their support for him that statistically dwarfs public sentiments for you. And that’s a very, very good sign for America.

You see, Mr. Kaepernick, it’s readily apparent to a whole lot of us smart folk across this great country that you sir, are the definition of a racist. And Mr. Trump is a guy who’s been creating jobs for minority communities since before you were a spoiled prima donna playing Pop Warner and PeeWee ball. Lucky for you, he has the economy humming along at a record clip. After Nike moves on from their boneheaded embrace of you and even Arena Ball decides you’re too toxic, you should have an easy time finding a job.

In the game of life, some quarterbacks are known for their long ball and some are just known for throwing bombs. You made your choice long ago.

Word is, Chik-Fil-A and In-N-Out Burger are both hiring.

Sincerely,

A very, very happy Nike short-seller.