I am going to go out on a limb and make the following declaration: No thinking being with a working conscience can support Donald Trump. What does that imply? That many millions of people have faulty or nonexistent consciences.
The United States, and, indeed, the rest of the world is teetering at the edge of annihilation. Fascism is once again rearing its ugly head, even in Japan! Hatred and bigotry rule the Internet. It's gotten so bad that I no longer read comment strings, nor do I allow comments here. You've got to be a trusted member of this blog to comment on it, and aside from Kye, who generally avoids commenting online, there isn't anybody who fills the bill. The few true fans I have correspond with me personally.
This isn't a time for hand-holding and singing Kumbaya. This isn't a time for looking away or being nice. This isn't a time for pretending everything is okay. This is a time for kicking serious ass and taking names. This is a time for jumping down into the mud and going toe-to-toe with the fascist slime and beating the holy living shit out of it and sending it back into the shadows where it belongs.
Donald Trump is not a president. He's America's first dictator. He's a treasonous piece of trash, and so is the Republican Party, and so are all who support him. And if you turn your head away, regardless of what party you belong to, so are you. By your silence you become complicit. You become an accomplice to the death of democracy and the continued rising black tide of hatred, totalitarianism, bigotry, oppression, intolerance to diversity, bloodlust and warmongering, and naked greed and waste.
The people welcome to visit this blog agree with me. I am a very accepting and open man normally--but not about this. Not during this time. This is the line I have drawn in the sand. I have reached the end of my acceptance and openness. If you don't agree with me, please visit other blogs and sites. You aren't welcome here.
When Trump stole the presidency last November, I wrote the essay below. I vowed that as long as he sat illegitimately in the Oval Office, that I would post it again and again and again. I am but one person with a tiny, tiny voice. I am virtually unknown everywhere. But that does not mean I should shut up and give up, as most people do. Indeed, because that is so, I must continue to shout and protest. Because history shows, over and over again, that the nobodies with the tiny, tiny voices are the ones who topple dictators and smash fascism.
Donald Trump Is Not My President
I’ve got something to say to you, Donald Trump. You are not, and never will be, my president.
I don’t care that the Electoral College voted you in. It doesn’t matter. It was an unthinkable, catastrophic, dumb-as-cattle move that proved, once and for all, that the College needs to be eliminated. The electors ignored the will of the people. The electors have no consciences.
Fuck them. You are not, and never will be, my president.
Hillary Rodham Clinton is my president. She won the popular vote by almost three million votes. She is eminently qualified for the job. You are not. You couldn’t kiss her fashionable heels beneath her fashionable pantsuit. She’s not only a far superior public servant, she’s a far superior human being. Your slobbering supporters—those brainless numbnuts who voted for you, along with the fetid piles of overprivileged Bernie bots and other alt-left dumbshits—can believe the National Enquirer and Infowars and Fox News and Breitbart and Wikileaks and insert propagandistic internet cesspool here till the fuckin’ cows come home. They can buy the idiotic and endless conspiracy theories and scream “EMAILS! EMAILS!” all they fucking want. Let them. You and your campaign played them like cheap marionettes. And that’s how
Russia has played
you. You, you orange-haired wrinkled scrotum of pus-buffoonery—you are Putin’s butt-boy.
Bend over, quintuple chins. He’s gonna shove his calloused KGB hand so far up
your sigmoid colon that you’ll do everything he wants.
You are an existential threat to this country, this land I love. You are anathema to everything this nation stands for: common decency, the commonweal, unity, the melting pot, acceptance, tolerance, diversity, intelligence, bravery, peace, merit, hard work, sacrifice, selflessness, common sense, science, innovation. You are a gold-plaited pig always slobbering for more. You sow division and destruction. You worship authority. You love dictators. Hell, you friggin’ adore Hitler! You philander and grab and believe you are both the law and above it. You are a narcissist and utterly spineless, a coward, a liar, a cheater, a regressive, and a crook.
You are not, and never will be, my president.
Already the filthy media are doing everything they can to normalize you, package you for consumption, make you palatable, make you warm and fuzzy. Fuck them to hell. When the reckoning comes—and believe me, it’s coming—they’ll be held to as vicious an accounting as you will be. They profit from your bile, your hatred, your bullshit, your bluster, and have to this very day refused to apologize for it, refused to own it, refused to take a good, long, hard look in the mirror and realize what they have done to this country. And what they have done is irreparable. It’s permanent. And millions are going to suffer horribly for it.
You are a domestic enemy, Trump. You are an enemy of the state. That millions refuse to see that, that millions refuse to put country before party, that millions live bigoted, pathetic, moronic, backwards, selfish lives has empowered you and made you that much more dangerous. The media and the hand-wringers and the can’t-we-all-get-along kumbaya-ers want me to feel sorry for them. I don’t. The poor in this land voted for
Clinton in far greater numbers than they did
for you. The assholes who voted for you aren’t hurting, aren’t looking to save
their families, aren’t afraid of being deported, aren’t terrified of violence
being directed at them, aren’t paralyzed with uncertainty over where rent is
going to come from, aren’t sweating feeding their kids.
You are not, and never will be, my president.
The intelligence community says
Russia interfered in our elections.
They tilted the playing field in your favor. That by itself warrants a new election. That by itself demands a full investigation into your hand in it,
and the hands of your hateful, churlish surrogates. That by itself should have Americans by the millions in the streets
demanding that you get nowhere near the White House. That by itself should have this country ready to take up arms
against a vile and villainous rogue nation in Russia which has effectively conquered
this country in a bloodless coup. That by
itself should have us ready to clean house within our own borders. But it
shouldn’t be immigrants or Muslims or DREAMers we go after, but grotesque thugs
like you who suppress the vote or take away a woman’s right to choose, who lie
and lie and lie your way into the halls of power.
Hillary Rodham Clinton is my president. For as long as you illegitimately occupy the White House, for as long as you and your sniveling swine pollute its offices and halls, I shall call her exactly that: President Hillary Clinton. She’s the people’s choice. Only Barack Obama in 2008 got more votes than she did. You were elected by a piddling minority of the population, and will take office as the most despised incoming president in American history. You do not represent the will of the people, no matter what your yes-men and -women whisper into your wrinkled pig’s ears. You can squeal and spew your rage on Twitter all you want, Oink Trump. It isn’t going to change anything, except to make the people despise you more.
You are not, and never will be, my president.
Evan McMullin, who ran against you in
Utah, and who is a staunch conservative,
warns against you. He says you are not a loyal American and that we, as
Americans, should prepare for your bullshit “accordingly.”
“Accordingly” means, to me, revolution. It means impeaching your fat ass the first day of your disgraceful “presidency.” It means gumming up the works and refusing to pass a single piece of Republican-written or –sponsored legislation the entire time you ooze about in the White House. It means demanding Democrats play every trick in the book to keep every nasty SCOTUS pick you toss into the mix from getting confirmed—no matter how long it takes. It means refusing to cooperate; it means refusing to register for your hateful registries; it means burning down the concentration camps you’re surely planning on building when you start coming for everybody you don’t like; it means going toe to toe with your white-hooded supporters; it means laughing at you every chance we get; it means declaring total war on the dis- and misinformation your supporters take as gospel; it means directly funding actual journalists who aren’t afraid to tell the truth about you; it means yelling and screaming at our representatives until they start doing the right thing and come after you; it means kicking your lard-choked, useless ass every day until you quit, and continue kicking until our fucking ankles break!
So there it is, Herr Trump. There it is, Fuhrer Trump. Seig Heil yourself to hell, motherfucker. Your Fourth Reich is going to be dead on arrival, so help me God. I know tens of millions of others feel the same way. I may be a nobody, you puckered sphincter now wholly owned by Putin, but tens of millions of nobodies add up to a pretty significant somebody, and you will fear us.
You are not, and never will be, my president, Trump. Never!