Syndicated columnist Marc Munroe Dion: Please release me, Mike Lindell

Ya let me down, Mike. Ya let me down bad.

I'm not a fussy guy. Third-rate is good enough for me. When my car gets dented or scraped, I don't get it fixed. I like canned spaghetti. When I buy beer, I make my purchasing decision based solely on price.

So, why would anyone be surprised that I don't care about pillows?

I like hotel pillows. I liked the pillow that came with the bed in my college dorm room.

In addition, I've always believed that the life span of a pillow is about 20 years. The pillow I'm sleeping on can be thin enough to slide under the door, and I'm fine.

My wife, on the other hand, is pillow-fussy. She changes her pillows often, and when she wears out a pillow, it can take her weeks to find a new one. I've known her to buy a pillow, sleep on it for a couple of nights and then return it to the store, something I thought was against the law. When one of her pillows gets too old for her to use, she gives it to me.

A couple of years back, on the hunt for new pillows, she bought a couple of MyPillows. She did not like the product, and she gave them to me.

Dewy-eyed from a night of perfect sleep, I awoke the next morning and looked her in the eye.

"These are the best pillows I've ever had," I told her. "I love these pillows."

"What?" she said. "You don't care what your pillows are like."

"I do now," I said, speaking in the unwavering voice of Alex Jones denying a school shooting.

That was back when MyPillow inventor and manufacturer Mike Lindell was just an ordinary American manufacturer with a pillowcase full of platitudes and a heart full of Jesus.

I didn't care. Platitudes don't bother this old reporter, and I'm a Christian. I'm not a tambourine sort of Christian, but I've been baptized, and I've seen the inside of a church within the last couple of months.

The MyPillow never got old, but Lindell did, and fast.

He allied himself with President Donald Trump, a subject of my nightmares, and in the morning, when I awoke from peaceful MyPillow-aided sleep, the morning news featured the odious Lindell screeching for a coup.

I didn't care. Just because you're a braying, underbrained nincompoop doesn't mean I won't buy your product. I'll buy your product, and I won't listen to your political opinions, and I won't vote the way you tell me to vote. I don't care about how my barber votes, either. If my mustache comes out even, I'll be back.

But now the FBI has taken Mike Lindell's phone, and he may end up in the can.

So, who's gonna make the pillows? I may need another set before I die.

Whatever a weak grip Lindell may have on reality, he knows the pillow business, and before he goes to jail, he needs to give the pillow secrets to someone else. I recommend a calm Methodist, a reasonably observant Catholic or a Jewish guy. Any one of the three may get caught trying to bribe a state rep. into letting some public land go cheap so he can build his factory there, but there's some chance none of them will go cuckoo for a coup and ruin my sleep.

And I'll tell Mike Lindell something, too. You're gonna hate prison. The pillows are lousy.

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