Open Letters from the Central Committee for Father’s Day

Dad

Several members of the Worker’s Spatula Central Committee recently discovered that the men they had known as their fathers were in fact sleeper agents for various socialist regimes. Obviously, this came as quite a shock, and three of them have elected to publicly express their feelings to their fathers as part of the healing process:

Dear Vati,

When I think back on my childhood, I always remember being a normal German boy with a normal German father and mother. But Mutti recently told me the truth about you. You are not [REDACTED], from Offenbach, but in fact a spy from the Lao People’s Democratic Republic!

In retrospect, maybe I should’ve seen the signs that I was adopted. When I really think about it, I don’t look so much like you or Mutti, who both do look a bit… un-German. Furthermore, every year at Pi Mai, when I would throw flour on the other children and scream “Sok di pi mai!”, they would always look at me as if there was something amiss.

I cannot say that I forgive this deception. I cannot say that I recognise in you or Mutti anything like “parents”. But I can say that I forgive Laos. Laos is not just my motherland now, but my actual mother. And Kaysone Phomvihane, my father.

I shall continue my important work in organising the German peasantry from my cover as a chicken-feed dealer.

Long live the MLPD,
[REDACTED]

Not all members were so crushed by the revelation that their parents were not quite who they seemed to be:

Dadi,

Dw i wedi dysgu’r gwir nawr. Wyt ti wedi bod yn gweithio fel bancwr llwyddiannus sydd â golygfeydd accelerationist, ond mewn gwirionedd, wyt ti a spy for the Republic of Cuba.

In fact, I’m somewhat relieved, because now I can tell you the truth about myself: Dw i ddim yn wir yn astudio Applied Sheep Sciences yn Cardiff University. Dw i’n mewn gwirionedd a correspondent for Worker’s Spatula.

Nawr dw i’n gwybod pwy wyt ti, a wyt ti’n dwybod pwy dw i. And we’re both fighting for the same thing: An independent, socialist, and bunker-filled Wales.

Dy ferch,
[REDACTED]

Finally, a letter from our northernmost Central Committee member:

Dear Pabbi,

I salute the many obstacles you overcame and struggles you engaged in in raising me to do the work of the socialist state of South Yemen under the cover of being a normal Icelandic family.

As the man I once believed to be my uncle mentioned during the debriefing at my coming-of-age, you had difficulty with the language and raised some initial suspicions with your choice of the surname Leninsson. However, the neighbours were eventually won around to your eccentric ways of cooking laufabrauð and your screams of “yalla!” at the lawnmower. After you gave your 3-hour presentation on the 1,100-year history of the family from Sven Leninsson on, you were just another quiet, ordinary Icelander.

But to me, and to the Central Committee of the Yemeni Socialist Party, you were much more than that. From your tireless work to combat North Yemeni influence across the country to the anti-imperialist leaflets you secretly distributed during the Cold War, you were always working for a socialist society. Even the end of the civil war and the beginning of a new one did nothing to halt your ardour.

To you, dad, and the coming revolution,
[REDACTED]

In addition, a fourth member of the Committee has been raised to be a suicide bomber for the Tamil Tigers, but we’ll let them know when it’s time.

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