My name is Charles. Not Charlie. Not Chas and NOT Chuck. Charles.
What is it about my monosyllabic name that is so daunting that people can't just let it stand unmolested? Why do you feel the need to give me a fucking nickname? Especially when you just met me?
“My name is Charles.”
“Do you go by anything else?”
Why the fuck would I?!
“Can I call you ‘Charlie?”
“Only if I can call you ‘Bertha.’”
“But my name is Rita.”
“Yeah, well, I don't like that.”
That's it. From now on, if you feel the need to call me by anything other than my actual name, I'm just going to call you “Hortense.”
I’m sick of hearing, thinking and talking about politics, the presidential candidates, the possible ruin of the United States, etc., yackity-smackityblahblahblah…
Instead, I decided to think of things that make me giggle like a 9-year-old girl.
1) People using the flashlight on their expensive-ass smartphone to navigate their living room because the electricity got cut off.
2) That chick at the club who KNEW that dress was way too short and she had way too much ass when she bought it but she know she cute…and then spends the whole night tugging and tugging and tugging at it.
3) Looking all over the damned house for your glasses…that you were wearing the entire time! The fact that you could see where you were going wasn’t a CLUE?!
4) Looking all over the damned house for your phone…while in the middle of a conversation on said phone. “…okay. Well, call me back when you find it.”
5) The fact that Zendaya has a song called “Something New” which is a from-the-ground-up mimic of “Creep” by TLC from 1994.
7) The word “trivet.”
8) Picturing the most hardcore-ass, savage-ass, thug-ass dude I can imagine…saying the word “puppy” with a straight face.
9) Omarosa being appointed Donald Trump’s Director of African-American Outreach…DAMMIT! I couldn’t even make it through this list!
10) Fuck it. We’re all doomed.
There is a growing faction of people who claim that they are opting out of voting in the Presidential primary election. They make this claim for various reasons. Disillusionment, apathy, disdain and nihilism being among the top ranked.
Well, I don’t have the time, energy or inclination to get into all of that right now. But I will say this…
No matter WHO you are, that right to vote that you’re about to wipe your ass with has the blood of your ancestors on it. So who the fuck are you to throw it away?! Okay, fine. You don’t feel like settling for the “lesser of two evils.” I’m going to ignore how lazy and tired that argument is and instead say SHUT UP!
You better hold your goddam nose and vote for the one that leans closest to your REAL-LIFE issues as they are now! And if you can’t do that, then you better exercise that write-in option. Mickey Mouse, Alan Smithee, Santa Claus…SOMEBODY!
Because if…it becomes president because you pissed away a chance to take a vote away from it, I will find you. Yes. I will find you, staple a dead ferret to YOUR head and beat you exclusively in the face and neck area with a rolled-up copy of The Final Call.
Don’t you bring about the apocalypse because you’re a political punk-ass!
Think I’m kidding…try me.
I’ve made a decision.
I am no longer going to contribute to T***p-bashing. No more name-calling. No more more clever meme sharing. No re-posting, re-tweeting or re-blogging. No more referring to him as evil, a maniac, Hitler 2.0…none of that.
I simply refuse to give him–err–it any further attention. For attention is power.
Instead I will:
Support that which it demonizes. Solidarity will always win over fear-mongering and divisiveness.
Stand against the dangerous and hateful principles it espouses. It is not “us” vs. “them.” There’s only “we,” goddammit!
And, most important of all:
I will no longer feed the beast. That is what it wants.