My Life Was Sunk by Swift Boat Veterans

Last week, without warning, my wife joined the Swift Boat Veterans for Truth. I say “without warning” because I had been married to her for 11 years and was pretty sure that she (a) was not a veteran and (b) had never set foot on a Swift boat. True, there are some chapters of her life, pre-me, that are sketchy, such as her junior year abroad, but because she spent it in Switzerland, a landlocked country, I can’t imagine that Swift boats played even a supporting role. I had always assumed that being a veteran and spending at least some time on a Swift boat were prerequisites for joining the Swift Boat Veterans for Truth, but she said that’s just another urban myth.

“You don’t have to be a Swift boat veteran,” she explained. “You just have to be for truth.”

This all sounded kind of ominous, but so do many of the things my wife says to me, so I decided to shrug it off. My insouciance, however, vanished the following morning when I discovered a flier on the windshield of my Saturn:

UNFIT FOR COMMAND

What husband at 3472 Knollridge Landing said he’d take out the garbage but didn’t?

Stop lying about your record.

This flier was paid for by the Swift Boat Veterans for Truth.

For those who did not know that I lived at 3472 Knollridge Landing, the flier included a grinning photo of me taken on our honeymoon in Cabo.

My mind was racing. Had the Swift Boat Veterans for Truth actually financed this? I didn’t know that much about the organization, but it seemed to me that it had bigger fish to fry. One thing was clear: My wife had approved this message.

I arrived at work racked with anxiety. At Outback Steakhouse, especially the one where I worked, news travels fast, and I feared that the Swift boat veterans’ attacks had already done their black magic. When Kenny, the assistant manager, called me into his office, he confirmed my darkest fears.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to let you go,” he said.

“It’s the Swift boat thing, isn’t it?”

“There are just too many unanswered questions.”

“Look, it’s all a lie. I told my wife I’d take out the garbage and I did.”

“Every time?”

“Well, maybe not every time.”

Kenny sighed. “You’re flip-flopping,” he said.

When I got home, I found a note from my wife explaining that she was leaving me for the Swift Boat Veterans for Truth. Our marriage had its share of rough patches -- what marriage doesn’t? -- but I can honestly say that I never expected it to end this way.

But if my wife thinks I’m sitting here cowering, bracing myself for the next body blow from her and those Swift boat goons, she is sorely mistaken. Right now I’m raising money, building up a war chest to fight the lies, half-truths and distortions that they’re raring to spew.

I’m expecting the worst from this group -- especially now that my in-laws have joined.

Andy Borowitz’s latest book is “The Borowitz Report: The Big Book of Shockers,” due in October from Simon and Schuster.