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.”
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.
Yeah, it only took ten seconds of the trailer for me to decide I cared not.
So, I was lucky enough to go see the new Jesse Owens movie before most people. This article will be full of “spoilers” unlike my usual review so…enter only ye who do not care. 2nd warning: I mean it’s called “Race” so if you’re the type of person who doesn’t like racial topics, or bluntly honest people…just leave now.
Let’s start from the beginning here because the failure of this movie is spectacular in its scope.
1st thing is, Ludacris came to the front of the theater to say a few generic things about Jesse Owens. This struck me as odd, but I figured, maybe he was a producer, or perhaps an actor in the film. Nah, he was just some random guy that happened to be in Atlanta that they paid to speak.
Then the actor who played Jesse came down, fumbled through some off the cuff remarks, thanked everyone…
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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 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.
I could be writing more. So, I challenged myself to write in a totally free-form, stream of consciousness way for exactly twenty minutes.
This is what came oozing out of my little thinky-box:
Sheldon’s eyes felt glued to the toe of Miles’s left shoe. It was a really nice shoe. Gorgeous, even. Wingtips. Blue and grey. Italian. Sheldon decided he just had to find out where Miles bought his—
“LOOK AT ME!”
Sheldon reluctantly (but very quickly, mind you) brought his gaze back up to Miles’s piercing blue eyes. Those eyes had that look…again. Sheldon hated that look. Especially when it was directed at him. Especially when he deserved it. Nothing good EVER followed that look.
Miles hated having to give that look even more. That look meant things had gone VERY wrong and VERY fast. That look meant having to move sooner than anticipated. Probably while being chased…and most likely shot at…or worse.
“I’m sorry, man” Sheldon sniffed. “They got the drop on us. Someone must have tipped them off!”
Miles froze. He took a single deep breath in, then a slow single step toward Sheldon as he exhaled.
Dammit. It’s a possibility. There appeared to be three options here:
1) Sheldon was the dumbest motherfucker on God’s green earth for letting The Heirloom leave his grasp, for which Miles would be sure to forcibly remove Sheldon’s eyelids, lips and thumbs.
2) Sheldon is a thief…which would make him even more stupid. The punishment would be the same (with the addition of burning the aforementioned tidbits then rolling the ashes into a nice, tightly packed cigarette, which he would cheerfully smoke as he broke into Sheldon’s house to murder his entire family. Even the bird.)
3) There is a mole.