this is the perfect place to get jumped

Happy Election Day Everyone!

I arrived to my polling station and stood in a line for two minutes before I consulted a chart on the wall that informed me I was in the wrong location.

I entered the identical looking building next door and stood in a line for three minutes, then decided that voting is overrated and walked home. On my way home I decided to try again in the early afternoon when it was less busy. When I returned the line was just as long, snaking out of room with the voter ID stations, and into the hallway. I rolled my eyes and stood on the line for about ten seconds before leaving it and wandering into the room with the voter ID stations. Nobody stopped me. They must have been Green Party voters.

There was a jumble of people grouped around my Election/Assembly District, and I stood there until it thinned and I could see where the line for last name A-M was helped.

I stood behind a pale woman with short, black hair and tattoos on her back and shoulders. Judging by her appearance, she was a Clinton fangirl since 2008. She fanned herself with a voter registration form. The coordinator was a 61 y/o black woman with a grumpy face. We all looked like sheep to her.

“You hot?” the coordinator asked.

“Oh, I’m always hot,” the pale woman responded.

“How old are you?”

“How old am I?” she hesitated. “Well…I’m 38.”

“I’ve been having flashes since I was 31,” smiled the coordinator. “How many kids you have?”

“Kids?!” laughed the white woman. “None! I have two cats! That’s enough mouths to feed.”

“You’ve got to have one baby…”

“No, my mother told me one was too many….I took her advice.”

The white liberal. An endangered species in one generation’s time.

When it was my turn with the coordinator I asked if I needed to stand in the line for the voter privacy booth or if I could, “fill it out where I stood.” She told me I could fill it out wherever I wanted, and to use the BMD (Ballot Marking Device) if I “didn’t want to touch shit.”

As some people stood on a line to vote, I sat on a stool, fed my ballot into the BMD and touched a dirty screen instead of using a pen. When I was done I gave my ballot to the counting machine and walked past a long line of people that hadn’t budged.

I didn’t get an ‘I Voted’ sticker because voting isn’t anything to brag about. It is a right that every citizen has, regardless if they know everything about American history and economics, or are a useful idiot that votes for genitalia. It’s really easy and therefore not impressive. Is it meant to remind non-voters to vote on Election Day? Non-voters are too busy and important to worry about politics and they know it. Voting is a waste of time, and time is money. That sticker is worthless because everyone that votes gets one for free, and everyone that doesn’t vote doesn’t want a sticker.

As good citizens and useful idiots, all we can do is believe the lies of the politicians and vote along party lines. But my wonderful party is in decline, and therefore the future of our great country is doom because of beliefs like “change” and “hope.”

Election Day is perfect for useful idiots; they can exercise their political power in the easiest way available and still feel like they’ve accomplished something and “changed” something by posting a selfie. (Consider this post as the equivalent to the “I Voted” selfie.)

But “change” is trite, even for an idiot. And it doesn’t occur in a 4-8 year spurt; our country has been changing for 80 years, and the outcome of this election will continue the demise of what our great country was built upon because Hillary Clinton will appoint Elizabeth Warren to the Supreme Court.

So whether it’s Trump supporters believing in the silent majority, or Hillary supporters believing that she will do a different job that George W. Bush, every voter is fooling themselves. It’s better to believe in aliens.

i miss writing

i haven’t had any time in the past week to write, and i won’t have any time in this next week to write either. i live tweeted a nervous breakdown i had at a party where i didn’t know anybody and didn’t want to meet anyone new, but i do not count that as writing. i hate waiting. i can’t begin to guess how much time is wasted on waiting, and not writing. i don’t like to feel like i am not in control of my dwindling free time. i chewed the gumball until it was nothing but my own spit.

i read a mira gonzalez interview about being twitter famous and i emailed it to myself with the intentions of writing a parody of her self importance, but i don’t have the time to do so before it become irrelevant. it was good and i read the whole thing and so should anyone that wants to be internet important.

one week to the election and nothing will change. nanowrimo starts on tuesday. i’m thinking about corruption on the local level and an unsolved murder. the inevitable recession, and starting a social media marketing agency and earning $1500 extra a month, working from my ipad on a beach in hawaii.

red baby and cousin fella and if a weird twitter account takes anything but an apolitical stance they are unfollowed. what color is your car? pull up a little bit. i’m learning to pray. if you can give me some of my free time back i promise

china :(

i found a dvd at a falun gong booth in grand central about the chinese communist party, and i watched part 1 of 10 and it made me feel sadly for china. if that was the purpose of the dvd, it succeeded.

Part 1: On What the Communist Party Is

Part 2: On The Beginnings of the Chinese Communist Party

Part 3: On The Tyranny of the Chinese Communist Party


the dvd was called “nine commentaries on the communist party” and the first part gave a brief purview of the political events that have taken place in China since it’s modernization period. the narration was the somber and stern voice of an american man, backed by moving music and played over banned images of party sanctioned violence.

ancient china was one of the world’s greatest civilizations and before its contemporary period of modernization, china was open for trade with europe. but more than goods, ideas also flowed between these civilizations, and the chinese communist party formed in the 1920s.

some of my college professors described communism as a ‘nice idea gone bad,’ referring to stalin’s purges, mao’s great leap forward, and cambodia’s khumer rouge as flubs in its otherwise peaceful philosophy. but reading marx’s manifesto proves that the ends of a forced egalitarian utopia comes with a catch: terror and bloodshed.

marx describes communism as ‘a specter that is haunting europe,’ suggesting that its looming ascension was inevitable. lenin discovered that force, as described in the manifesto, was the only way to coerce people to give up their personal property.

this looming specter in the 1850s became a terrifying wraith in china in the 1950s—hell was exacted on civilians following the defeat of the nationalists in the chinese civil war. like russia, an iron curtain settled over this once great culture, erasing its vibrant history from the minds of the people.

the means to utopia can never be peaceful, because one man’s utopia is another man’s hell. therefore, until every dissident is purged, everyone lives in a dystopia. this was the reason communists were feared in the 1950s–much like islamic terrorists are feared today–because they were radicals using violence as a tool to terrorize people into submission.

communist dictatorship limits economic growth. communist countries produce less, and therefore, trade less. when there is less to trade, there is less wealth that can be created for all nations. a nation that is poor cannot trade globally, and all nations lose.

the dvd was very spooky when describing members of the chinese communist party. as individuals, they are ordinary; they love their families and friends. but when they come together, they lose their sense of compassion, and become part of the pragmatic party machine whose goal is to maintain total control.

communist china is a misnomer. its economy is now profit motivated. the chinese government chose to change its ideals to maintain total control over the lives of its people: their information is censored and their history is rewritten by the communist party. they have no upward mobility and no freedom of religion or freedom of speech.

religion is outlawed in communist china, and practitioners of falun gong, a mind and body exercise, have been arrested and jailed for their beliefs. falun gong is peaceful, but its popularity represents a threat to the chinese communist party. there is increasing evidence that the organs of these political prisoners are trafficked, as whistleblowers revealed that imprisoned practitioners were killed in hospitals. chinese organ transplants have increased in large numbers since the falun gong crackdown began in 1999, and other victims of these transplants include uyghurs, christians, and tibetans.

in a country of one billion people, it is easy to overlook this minority as small and therefore inconsequential. but disputing the accuracy of civilian body count is a petty argument and devalues human life. even one person killed by its government in the name of an ideal is unforgivable.

communism wasn’t “executed poorly”, and it’s noble aims were not corrupted. communists are violent revolutionaries bent on installing a godless totalitarian regime. china’s government is evil, as is its support of north korea and cambodia.

china, the once great civilization, has been enslaved by this anachronistic specter of communism, and will remain under the influence of its regime for years to come. the great history of its great people has been erased, and its people will never know freedom.

the blight of communism, and its ability to wipe out human nature and ancient culture made me feel very sad, and now i’m imagining sharia law in belgium in 100 years. thanks for reading.

Sugar’s Hold

“An apple a day keeps the doctor away,” said sugar. “Why not an avocado?” said someone that never saw the light of God again.

Sugar is clever. When it blamed saturated fat, we believed. After all, sat fat causes heart attacks. And look at us. We are fat! Saturated fats are the cause of all of this. The more fat we consume, the more our bodies store it on our stomachs and under our chins, and behind our ears and knees. Our fat is hidden in plain sight, growing ordinary over the course of generations while we are passed out on the couch. Now everyone is fat somewhere! But we don’t want to be fat anymore, so we listened to sugar.

Of course we knew that we didn’t need sugar too. But we didn’t choose sugar. Sugar chose us. Sugar chose us to choose it. Sugar *knows* that it makes everyone feel happy, that it provides comfort that begins inside the mouth and spreads throughout the body, and that it makes *everything* better. And it starts in the brain. But we know this, and we show restraint. We think.

This is why we are ashamed when we eat two desserts. It is supposed to be moderated because it has ~no nutrients~

Sugar, therefore, should be moderated for personal use. Alcohol is totally fine in moderation. Hell, heroin is fine in moderation, though its addictive properties make it difficult to control…and its instant, unpredictable fatalities make it obviously dangerous. So heroin is illegal for this reason and also it doesn’t taste good like sugar does. Also children can’t celebrate birthdays with heroin cake.

But we don’t even know how much sugar is in all things. Not just candy or the liquid candy. Sugar is even in the good fruit. The God made fruit. Fruit was nature’s dessert. Yes, fruit has sugar in it. Yes, sugar is God made. So God also made the devil. Ok. But fruit has other nutrients. That’s why I heard my mom screech, “Eat a fruit!” when I reached for an Oreo. Cookies have no nutrients. They are wondrous works of art, but they are the devil in disguise.

Look what happened when Eve couldn’t resist the forbidden fruit, and look what it did to all of us!

Sugar latches itself onto anything. Makes itself irresistible to the brain when it circulates in the blood for long enough. One bite from a woman thousands of years ago was all it took to damn all of mankind’s discoveries.

It is not enough that caffeine exists on its own…it also has to be sweet. Everything has to be sweet. That pulse that swells the veins on the skull…that has to be sweet blood. “I’ll take three sugars please. [looks to the person on line behind them] At least its not five sugars though, right?”

Coffee is old, like sugar. Unlike coffee, sugar cannot be consumed alone. (Yes, I have eaten sugar cubes when constructing a model igloo in 2nd grade.)But coffee can be consumed without sugar. Enjoy the bean drink for the flavor of the bean. The flavors can be learned and appreciated. Like a class. Like wine. But wine is sugar class. There is sugar in alcohol too.

That’s what I’ve learned. Put milk in it if you need that shit, but there is sugar in milk too. Mix wine with milk if you want to meet the devil sooner.

They like to talk about our reliance on foreign oil like its a bad thing. Oil is useful. What about your body’s reliance on sugar? Sugar isn’t useful for anything other than shackling your body to the devil.

But is looks so cute! And therefore harmless. And it tastes so good. That’s why sugar is sexy to me. Because the consequence of teal colored sprinkles on a fluffy white cake is your toes melting off your foot. Have you ever seen an autopsy of an overweight person? Not obese, just regular overweight?

And ask anyone with thirty ulcers in their stomach where they got it from: splenda and aspertame. Sugar substitutes. Sugar doesn’t just come in granules anymore. It is made in labs. So when the label says sugar free, it doesn’t actually mean it. There is still some meet-the-devil sweetener in there. Nothing in life is free. Today the devil is man made, and is just as addictive.

Drink a big gulp if you want to, but when you do it more than once a week, you have been captured by the devil, and when the devil has your health, does it matter how good you are to others? You have failed yourself first, the most important person in the world!

Enjoy it the way you like it, but remember:

There is a Satan. We know him in everything we eat.

Think about it like this quote that’s probably from The Hobbit: “The greatest thing the devil did was convince the world he did not exist.”

dreaming in vomit

russell wore a grey smock    he shuffled down the hallway    gray babies on his feet     gray, buzzed hair on his head  his face hung like a bulldog’s    his ass was underneath the smock   somewhere     he was born lobotomized  there he goes down the hallway    his bib is dry for now     hope he doesn’t puke

someone else was there   what was his name?   he was also a man  it was a mental institution, or it was a jail cell  they puked  the man that wasn’t russell     consider it good luck    “only him”

russell was a good man    he puked because he couldn’t hold it in   part of his condition i suppose   but this man    this man puked for himself     he puked again  and he didn’t clean it    a nurse was nearby, and he needed to puke    grey chunks down her back    he lifted her collar and puked   he puked on himself later again  he was still on his own puke   it hadn’t dried

it wasn’t russell    this was a sour man this man was hate     russell was like a child  this one drooled mentally   when not russell puked it made me feel safe    the nurse will never get use to it, but the puke was grey and made us all smile and write it down


the worst hobbies

Work sucks. Wouldn’t it be nice to somehow take the edge off and relax?

For those of us currently living in America, there are two ways to do this: there is the anachronism of getting drunk in a bar (before the creation of the weekend and the eight hour workday), and there is the modern hobby. (A little bit of both never hurt anyone.)

Alcohol may drain health from the body, but it feels good and doesn’t burden the brain with thought. The bar still creates an atmosphere of camaraderie among people with no similar interests—besides the preference to be accompanied drunk—abut after a 12+ hour workday there’s only time for a drink before bed anyway. But time becomes precious and plentiful after the creation of the internet and an eight hour workday; there is just enough for it to be used constructively: in the building of model boats for instance.

Softcore hobbyists might find that drugs and alcohol enhance their hobby, like drinking a beer while building their model boat in the garage. (It all depends on whether the hobby is competitive and the drug an impediment.) But hardcore hobbyists have replaced drugs and alcohol entirely. Their drug becomes their hobby. Overindulgence in a hobby could lead to alienation from non-hobbyists, but to hardcore hobbyists, ‘others’ are a sensible sacrifice. Ultimately, hobbies are a creative and constructive pursuit that will satisfy a life in the way a dull career and ugly children never could.

Alcohol will be fine in moderation and bars will remain a harmless and proper place to relax the mind. But bars and alcohol as a past time should never be combined with the hobby that is already terrible on its own: politics.

In varying shades and degrees, we are all alive and we are all governed. We are also all unique, and therefore we have different experiences and ideas about who should govern and how…and because nobody can agree on everything, we dispute over who should govern us and how, all based on dissimilar beliefs that everyone arrives at for personal, religious, business, philosophical etc. reasons.

Non-sports fans like to criticize sports fans as tribal brutes with two emotions: rage and joy. No amount of love or energy they pour into the game will ever allow them to directly influence it; the best they can do is fantasy draft and buy merchandise. But political hobbyists are more tribal and less reasonable than sports fans.

In America, everyone gets a vote, no matter how ill informed they are, so as a political hobbyist it doesn’t matter how much you know about history, the issues, or the effects of economic policies on small business owners–someone else can vote based on a politician’s genitalia. (More on that later.)

In the years of the presidential election, seemingly everyone becomes a political hobbyist, which makes it worse for those that actually care about politics more than once every four years.

Even the apolitical mention of a presidential candidate is enough to provoke an emotional response. A discussion might begin civilly, but rarely ends that way in a bar, talking to a drunken stranger.

The presidential election cycles brings out every opinion, which must be aggravating for those full time political junkies whose minds have been reshaped dozens of times, finally taking the shape of a moderate opinion. In this way, politics cannot be savored as an insular community in the same way that a good hobby can. Since the election will absolutely effect everybody differently, everybody has the most important opinion and rarely values the opinions of those most informed. In superior hobbies newbs never give advice.

The majority of political hobbyists never transition into a career in politics. Their interest in politics is a sliding scale of action/inaction: they might attend rallies, they might donate to campaigns, they might protest, or write blogs, do research into their elected officials or attend town hall meetings. Ok! So now they are finally informed. They care about politics. They know more than the next guy. What is the final result of being informed?

  1. Having no impact on those opinions you find disagreeable.
  2. Being disappointed when your politician was not elected.
  3. Being disappointed when the politician you wanted elected enacts terrible economic policies.
  4. Watching the country you only started caring about six months prior to the election get destroyed from the outside.
  5. Watching the country you only started caring about six months prior to the election get destroyed from the inside.

Everyone must live within the limits the government imposes, whether or not they agree, so the battleground is inside the minds of others, and the stakes are everyone’s livelihood. Influencing the mind’s of others is a losing battle, because everyone changes/doesn’t change their own mind for their own deep seeded reasons. Some political hobbyists feel very personally about the opinions of others. Opinions, all of which have only one vote each, are constantly imposed upon by those with less knowledge.

The best hobbies allow ideas to be shared without any fear than it may be offensive because there are no offensive ideas. In politics, everyone could be an opponent, the sensitivity of which cannot be measured until the argument turns ugly. Friendly conversations become difficult conversations, or worse, sermons. Difficult conversations, normally celebrated between two philosophical hobbyists, are now personally divisive. It used to be in good fun: “We all only have one vote anyway lol” or “I’ll drink to that!”

What is the purpose of becoming informed if you become afraid to voice your opinion and express what you have learned? Isn’t a hobby supposed to relieve stress? Is the stress of changing someone else’s mind worth the very precious time spent outside of the work place? Some people enjoy the adrenaline of disagreement when it is with friends or strangers because they:

  1. Find friends and strangers expendable (unlike family)
  2. They don’t take the opinions of others personally
  3. Believe their cause is worth the stress and aggravation it causes them.

At least in a normal hobby, like fishing, even if two fishermen disagree on the merits of their fishing rods they can still find common ground while admiring the big fish that their fellow hobbyist caught. Even drinking in a bar receives admiration from other alcoholics for the amount of alcohol consumed.

In politics there is no similar accomplishment unless you find someone that agrees with you politically. And what happens when you finally find someone that shares your politics? Do you fuck them or do you shake their hand? Do you feel relief that you are not alone? Do you feel like you’ve created something because you have found someone who only disagrees with you on one or two fundamentals? Have you accomplished anything from the marches or the lectures? Not unless you are a politician that has successfully passed the law that the constituents have voted for you to pass have you accomplished anything political. Not unless politics is your career.

But if politics is the hobby that anybody can have an opinion about, what makes one opinion more valid than another? Usually it is facts. But for identity politicians, practitioners of the worst hobby, it is the opinion owner’s skin color and genitals.

Political hobbyists will calm down or even change their opinion when confronted with facts, however long it takes. In the meantime, even if the argument gets heated, it is just conversation, pretty harmless. Getting angry over policy is understandable since it is something that people in a republic have some control over. But getting angry over someone else’s opinions because of their skin color or genitals is wrong because those physical attributes are uncontrollable.

Identity politicians do not care though. Somehow, they rationalize their cause as a right to be angry all of the time. They convene to talk about injustice and feel mad about it. They write articles and try to change “society” from inside the minds of those around them by trying to convince them that they are wrong and need to repent. This is a lost cause; other people are busy enjoying their spare time with a constructive hobby and do not feel guilty for their skin color.

Imagine a life where everyday that you wake up, you feel that you need to change the minds of the people around you.You cannot relax because most people are ignorant and need enlightenment. This gnaws at you. Injustice is literally everywhere, and you are one of the special few who can see it. Therefore it is your duty to make change happen. This effort takes a lifetime and even when you think you are carefree, this injustice will continue to exist in the background…

Replace these angry thoughts that others might have with a hobby that allows actual enjoyment. What identity politicians “enjoy” as “helping the marginalized” is actually pitying and demonizing people for their race/sex. To each his own, but personal progress comes from creation, not oppression.

Identity politics is the only hobby that would be acceptably replaced with drugs and alcohol exclusively. Whether to replace knowledge with a chemical enlightenment, or simply for your own hedonism, it is better to do what makes you happy rather than what makes you angry, even at the cost of alienation from others. Or avoid alienation completely by being moderate in your hobbies and considerate of your loved ones.

We Did It.


For weeks we came together as one, took time away from our jobs and our families, and put our minds to work. You should have seen us! We worked like dogs!

We were under tremendous pressure to succeed, and it was not always likely that we would. Sometimes we fought. We had many hurdles to overcome. But we never questioned our moral intentions, and it all paid off in the end because Bruce is dead.

Nobody liked him. We can’t really say why, we all had our different reasons. For one, his face was really annoying to look at, and his voice was really annoying to overhear. Even at the periphery of our lives, Bruce was an unwelcome presence. We needed to help ourselves at the cost of Bruce’s life. It’s not like Bruce could have helped how his face negatively affected our senses, but that was Bruce’s problem, not ours. Together, we found a solution to Bruce’s problem.

We found each other in different ways. There was never an obvious leader. Nobody knew anyone else from their regularly scheduled lives. We had nothing in common but the same goal, and everyone played a part, no matter how small. Our plan would not have been possible if any of us acted alone, even for a moment.

I am proud to have been an integral part of this scheme. The paper trail, despite it implicating and eventually convicting us, is something to behold with wonder and awe. That being said, it is tragic oversight that such ambition was held against us, and that no one in our group thought about the consequences of being too methodical.

I never say the word ‘murder’ in my portion of our exhausting paper trail. I was completely technical. But that does not matter. I don’t need to say the word murder to be implicated in one. We wanted Bruce dead, which is not illegal; but the specific way we carried it out was.

We should have killed Bruce within the confines of the law. Here are a few loopholes that I can think of while I sit here and wait.

We could have coerced Bruce into enlisting in the army. First befriended him, then pressured him. If we weren’t who we were and we didn’t know each other the way that we do we could have met Bruce at a younger age; he could have fallen into our crowd. He would have been easier to pressure. After graduation we could have said, “We are all going to join the army together! Are you in Bruce? Are you one of us guys or not?” (We would have winked maniacally to one another.) Our paper trail would have been nebulous. Our words fading as they are spoken, but the ideas resting safely inside all of our minds….

Once in the war, we await chaos, then one of us could have killed Bruce and blamed it on friendly fire. We would all know it was a true murder, but the evidence would have made it look like an accident. And where would the evidence be for an alternative? What motive would we have had to kill Bruce anyway? It wouldn’t make any sense! But that scheme takes too long.

None of us really knew Bruce at all. We kept our distance because of his face. But if we did know him, we could have bullied him in the hopes that he would kill himself. We wouldn’t be held accountable that way because he would have murdered himself! There might have been a diary explaining why he killed himself, but with our logistical acumen, we’d make the diary disappear.

In reality, we just couldn’t stand the thought of engaging with Bruce in any way other than hiring a third party to kill him.

We could have aborted Bruce. Convinced his mother that she is would be unfit. That she should consider her own life, and should wait until the time is more right for her. Besides, Bruce might be retarded, or even worse, poor.

We could have orchestrated a way to kill Bruce in self defense. Stage a home invasion? Or better yet, frame him for a murder! But we wanted Bruce dead sooner than later. Even in a place with the death penalty, it could take years for Bruce to die. We just couldn’t afford wait that long. We were antsy.

If we took him to a messy place without a justice system, and hoped that he is kidnapped and then killed, we’d have to hire proxies to accompany him, which might put innocent lives in danger. It also wouldn’t guarantee that he was killed. We can assume so, but we’d rather know for sure he was dead, and our method was the best method for the type of closure we demanded.

But the biggest problem with these other methods of killing Bruce is that they are logistically harder to accomplish. They rely too heavily on someone else’s choice. What if we fail to convince them to make choices that would benefit us? Ultimately, it was much easier for us to make a collective choice and kill Bruce on our own terms than to be conniving and subliminally penetrate someone else’s mind.

The Lord says ‘Thou Shalt Not Kill.’ But killing is definitely different than murder. Killing might happen in an instant without any premeditated thought. It might need to happen to defend oneself from an attacker. What if Bruce tried to steal my favorite goat! The law can’t account for everything.

Not all killing is murder. But what we did was actually murder. I weighed our options way after the fact, but murder is still the best option for us.

Ironically, now we might be killed for our murder of Bruce. But our killing is not murder. When the law premeditates a killing, it is lawful because the law has ruled it to be, based on the facts presented.It is just that we are killed, because we have murdered Bruce.

But what would God think? How would God rule?  Was Bruce’s death worth mine? Ah well, you know what we say…”Foresight is never 20/20″

ronnie radke

selected gifs are some of my favorites from falling in reverse‘s angry thrashsterpiece ‘alone.’


true love trumps irony. a plain blog cannot contain my overflowing chalice of emotion for ronnie, which deserves investigation in the form of a novel.

amanda a

i walked up a hill, and in the white van behind me was a family owned “serbian” moving company. through the windshield i observed “the father” and “the son”; they had shaved heads and wore white undershirts. they had grey bags under their eyes.

i reached a red light and stopped walking. the van stopped behind me. “the son” jumped out of the van, ran to the trunk and opened it to ensure nothing had fallen, then slammed it shut and jumped back into the passenger seat. the light turned green and i began walking again. the van followed at the speed i was walking.

at the top of  the hill was a high school classmate. her face was smoother, rounder and more tawny than i remembered. her black hair was pulled back. she also wore a white t-shirt.

‘the serbs are her family, and they are helping her move,’ i concluded.

i hesitated as i approached her: ‘should i ignore her, or say hello? would she remember me?’

when i got close enough to make eye contact i said hello. she frowned. “I do not remember you,” she replied.

i walked past her, then turned my head and yelled back, “I’m Jimmy!” she stood in place, facing away from me. i pondered silently for a moment, then yelled “I’m Billy!”

now i’m triggered

internet alt poet @miragonz recently tweeted:

i’m not saying that i *want* trump to be assassinated, i’m just that saying him dying seems like a much better option than him not dying

sigh…i used to like this girl….

mira’s time is *famously* spent working from the internet, in seclusion, at home. thus, she can easily join her ostentatious friends and relocate to new zealand for a year or two if trump gets elected. but why put forth the effort of relocating when taking the life of the threat is a “better option?” no relocation required!

mira is an internet celebrity, so she is only *known* by her fans. to stay relevent she must tweet constantly, and since it’s election season it makes sense that she is outspoken on the subject of politics, even if her opinions are just as ignorant as any facebook feed.

trump is a controversial demagogue, but he has not yet been elected president. therefor, he has not done anything besides talk. “him dying” eliminates the need to make a cogent argument against his politics. in other words, it is easy; it proves that mira has no argument, since she’d rather trump be assassinated–the dead cannot talk anymore.

mira’s evil intents cannot be masked by her wry tone. this is violent rhetoric that gets a free pass because of its smarmy replacement of ‘living’ with ‘not dying.’

and sadly, this sort of regressive thinking is far too common.

i wish “celebrities”–im looking at eric andre too–with careers in entertainment wouldn’t open their mouths and expose their political beliefs to me. you lose customers that way! just shut up and make us laugh or cry without using your career as yet another platform for politics that i don’t want.

understandably, most people are too busy to be educated on the nuances of every issue. this fact does not stop anyone from having a political opinion or using social media to voice them. there is nothing wrong with voicing uneducated opinions on social media if they do not call for violence against political opposition.

i want to believe that mira is in the minority, but her clout on social media will lead to the normalizing of violent rhetoric, and deepen the ideological and racial divide of the american people, which, among other factors, has given a rise to populist candidates like trump and sanders in the first place.

but mira is not assassinating trump to clear the path for her candidate, so it doesn’t matter if mira supported sanders or clinton–she is assassinating him for the likes. for the popularity, for the applause. it is popular to hate trump, and ironically, it isn’t unsafe to call for his assassination, especially if one is *cute* and *witty* about it.

mira wants to be known for being unique and thoughtful and pensive, but she’s just another vapid blabbermouth on the internet.