Wayne Michael Reich

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Wayne Michael Reich
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Month: April 2021

Vanguard of the Vanilla. (Chauvin-istic Tendencies.)

“The moral world has no particular objection to vice, but an insuperable repugnance to hearing vice called by its proper name.” – William Makepeace Thackeray, Vanity Fair

Hello Bitchiteers!

Justice has finally been served, and by this single act alone, has now caused all to be well in the World… that is, according to those White people who aren’t still furious about former Minneapolis Police Officer Derek Chauvin being held accountable for murdering a fellow American like a dog in the streets of America. You know, the land where your genetic nationality has to be hyphenated and publicized in order to make your unjustified death under the authority of a racist system palatable to those who don’t ever have to identify as European-American?

But chillax, kids. We’ve finally settled the issue of racial disparity in this country in regards to it’s policing inequalities where minorities are concerned, and can now get back to ignoring the more important issues at hand they still face, such as the rising epidemic of gun violence or the disproportion in relation to personal income, education or job opportunities. Man, it’ll be so nice to get back to normal, and start complaining about how my culture is the one most truly under threat of dissolution, let me tell you.

First, they came for my Dr. Seuss books, then they came for my Potato-based toys, and now, all I have to look forward to complaining about is the annual Starbucks Christmas cup. I won’t speak for you, but not whining publicly about how being a middle-aged white male is so hard these days for five whole minutes, has really ground my gears down.

I’m not sure how minorities are feeling, regarding their place on the planet these days, but to be fair, I also haven’t seen the current memo from us, the truly oppressed, dictating what that should be in the first place, so you’ll have to cut me some slack. Like I’m supposed to get without question, because… well, you know White. Sorry, I meant “why”. Yes. I definitely meant “why”.

DEFINITELY THAT, AND NOT THE OTHER THING.

While my commentary is obviously with my tongue planted firmly in cheek, when it comes to the revolting art of racist seed scattering, there’s already a superfluity in place regarding those devoutly committed dogmatists who are doing it as both a career, if not a lifestyle. I’ve touched upon this before, but sadly, it seems that no matter how many times the metaphorical throat of racist ideology is slit, albeit with logic or a chainsaw, it just shakes it off, finds yet another uneducated cretin to manifest itself in, and starts breeding anew, as if it were a rabbit mainlining Viagra.

Speaking of low-IQ entities harboring puerile philosophies, I find myself yet again on the allegorical doorstep of a man who is quite possibly, the best example of what might result if Mattel ever decided to launch a commemorative Klan Barbie accessory line. Barb’s long-term and sexually questionable orientated hunk of man-cake, just so happens to share some basic characteristics with our subject for today. The most relevant being that they’re both icons of a bygone era, and if you ever dare to pull down their pants, the odds of seeing noticeable genitalia worth bragging about, will always be zero. I’m obviously kidding of course, as Barb’s boyfriend, so-called, could always order a set off of Amazon, and just glue it on, whereas today’s screed subject can only rely on his collective racist misinformation, and inherent personal paranoia to hopefully distract others from noticing the void that mythical God left between his legs, if not his ears. As someone who prides themselves on being accurate, I’d hate to draw such a conclusion without hearing from his better half as a rule, but unfortunately, I’m also fairly certain that in order to, I’d have to inflate her first.

Allegedly, of course.

But before we get into all that, a small diversion of sorts, if I may. If you recall the last time I stood upon my social warrior soap-box, I spun the truly riveting tale of my interaction with a certain granite-brained worker drone at my small-town DMV- an experience that in retrospect, showed exactly why they have to install all that bulletproof glass in those otherwise cubicle moron farms. It’s not to protect the sensitive information that they possess, it’s to keep their employees safe from those customers who are giving serious consideration to doing the following out of sheer frustration:
This is not to say that I openly endorse, or willingly condone, enacting any form of cartoon-level violence against government contractors, but if such a thing was both ethical, if not legal, I’d also note that yours truly would make it a point to corner the local ACME market in regards to falling anvils, and sleep the sleep of the just and recently wealthy. That small rumination aside, it is with no small amount of personal pride, that due to my concerted effort, some changes are a-comin’ to the ol’ Silver City DMV, and those, right quick.

For not only did I manage to get some of the top brass personally involved, I also secured the mandatory “retraining” of the individual I issued my initial complaint about, as well. Other minor tweaks regarding their day-to-day operations were promised to be installed in tandem, and I was repeatedly assured that the odious oaf who had been dealing with the public was no longer doing so, and that a suitable, if not more professional  replacement was soon to be hired, to boot.

Time will tell whether or not these revisions will be truly implemented, or even take firm root, but it’s a start to say the very least, of I do say so myself, and I do. While it may be true that you cannot fight City Hall, as the maxim states, apparently… you can purple-nurple it into unwilling compliance, if you only bother to apply some semblance of personal effort. Speaking of which, I’d also like to address what that also constitutes, and the posted electronic commentary I’m about to highlight, is so not it.

Some context: thanks to the fact I construct a great deal of my writing endeavors at my office away from the office, AKA; The Little Toad Creek Brewery and Distillery, located within the charming township of Silver City, NM, I’ve gotten a semi-deserved rep as a dude with a unique perspective on life, which is small-town diplomatic-speak for my being way over-opinionated, regardless of the topic to be discussed..  

Obviously, I don’t mind this perceived assessment, as it does open certain doors, and helps keep less palatable ones firmly locked shut, but it does lend itself to a few moments of WTF weirdness every now and then. Don’t misunderstand me, I’d rather field the random question pr two concerning my POV and observations, than have them shunned or ignored outright to be sure, but there are times where even I ask myself why I remain  open to the process of such.

Case in point? This recently received electronic missive sent to my website:
———————

Greetings from a road warrior.

Hi, My name is S*** N******, and earlier today I ate at a bar in Silver City. The nice young waitress suggested I contact you.  I had told her that I have written a novel that has been read by some thirty people, half of which are not connected to me directly. It has been met with a great deal of enthusiasm.

Some ridiculously so to the point of me thinking I should hide the darn thing. It is a fantasy, a Navajo Narnia with Castaneda thrown in. One Ben Caswell an actor out of LA an screenwriter fell in love with it and is stuck 2/3rds the way through a script. Not for lack of understanding but for lack of umph during our Covid crisis.

    So I think what intrigued her was that I mentioned I had a new solution for some of our political problems and am writing a short book, but I also intend to start doing YouTube videos about it. I was a radio DJ in Santa Fe as a hobby gig although I was quite popular due to my humor and an unmistakable voice. The kind that sells high end cars in ads. Although I have a Chicano, Texas or California non accent depending on the moment.

    I anticipate pissing off the Left and the Right and the Libertarians with my ideas, but I think they are original for the moment, but I’m sure they have been put forth before. However some of my political ideas are based on redefining some of our language specifically words used in economics. And further a radical approach to crime and punishment.

    The most mundane of my propositions are already out there from others like the obvious ending the War on Drugs. Never the less for some reason the waitress thought we might talk. Not exactly sure why. Either she thought you might be helpful to me in getting my novel published or in turn she believed that the political ideas might be of some interest to us both.

    Anyway fell free to respond or ignore if it is of interest or not as you wish I’m a bit beyond polite formalities at this stage of my life. Best S^^^

———————

Somewhere out there, in a far-flung and purposefully remote corner of this beauteous land known as America, the ever-wandering spirit of Jack Kerouac, just took a celestial moment of personal introspection, looked skyward, and uttered; “Jesus. And you people thought that I was pretentious?” 

If and when I ever have the free time and access to a Ouija Board, I may just have to hold a séance to summon the author of the one book I once labeled in my High School English class “far less fascinating than watching paint dry in Portland during a rain storm”, and issue the sincerest of heartfelt apologies. But to justify this take on my requested input, let me unpack why this is so

First, for a self-declared “writer” his inability to punctuate and utilize grammar properly, may, in time, become a career hinderance. Just saying. And while a mark of quality is generally not based on the number of appreciative fans it garners, the “Twilight” cinematic series being a prime example, if you’re going to use it as a factor, you should probably be able to post numbers far greater than those who attend kindergarten can count up to.

Not to mention… a “Navajo Narnia”? C’mon man. Haven’t our noble Native Americans suffered enough debasement in regards to their culture at this point? In case you haven’t been paying attention, our indigenous population has been fighting the allegorical White Witch since She showed up without an invitation, and started gleefully passing out her blankets laced with Smallpox.

And BTW, who in the hell is Ben Caswell, and more to the point, why should I, or anyone else for that matter, supposed to care to begin with? Let’s see… according to IDMB.com, he’s an American actor who worked steadily, mostly in TV, during the mid-90’s and early 2000’s. However, the most recent production credit I was able to find during a cursory search was 2006, so I’m fairly comfortable with stating that his career doesn’t appear to exactly be on fire at the current moment, so…

This professional arc is correspondingly akin to the one that the backpacking pamphlet-writing YouTuber wannabe who penned this conceit masquerading as query, has. And yes, I’m aware this assessment may be a tad bit over the top, but my dance card in regards to the arrogantly dense is full-up these days, so tossing in a D-List celebrity name-drop isn’t really going to impress upon me an urgent sense of need to provide critical counsel, when it gets right down to it.

As for the dissecting the remainder of this mental morass, I’ll just gloss over the remaining salient points of my personal annoyance. The first being, that I don’t care about your hobbies, your distinctive voice, or your supposed ability to successfully shill motorized penii-substitutions, or what your regional accent of the moment is. Why this is even suggested as an asset for a writer, is truly beyond me, but I’m sure it’ll look good on the flyleaf of your unsold book jacket someday.

Moving forward, I also don’t give a damn about your politics, either. Pissing people off, while both personally fulfilling, if not somewhat entertaining, literally takes no enviable skill-set to achieve. And I’m living proof of that, if anything else. True debate is about finding the common ground that may exist, semantics and politics aside. Even I, a Snark extraordinaire, understand that. And I live for confrontation, very much in the same way that a four-year-old looks toward to Christmas.

Shockingly, there are very few “new” ideas that exist within the paradigm of what currently passes for political discussion these says, but this in itself, is not a new phenomenon, nor is it to be unexpected, either, given the anti-intellectual climate sadly festering away in our national consciousness. And speaking of things that bear the stench of rot, who ever told you that signing off a personal communique with the literary equivalent of “”whatever”, inflicted a great disservice upon you at best.
Arrogant, dismissive, and derivative, is no way to walk through Life, my child. Sure, it’d be hypocritical for me to ignore how well some of those elements have worked out for me, but I’m also not trying to change the world entire, just my little corner of it. And that, in a manner that others, with any luck, find to be truly entertaining. One can only hope.

So, here’s my professional advice, although you may not like it: work on your craft, lose the haughty attitude, fill in that giant-ass chip on your shoulder, and most importantly, pull your unjustly swollen head out of your ass when you get a free moment.

Because I’m fairly certain it’s jammed so far up there, that you’re currently utilizing your belly-button as an observatory window. Just my two cents of course, and you can take it or leave it, for as you so eloquently stated; “I’m a bit beyond polite formalities at this stage of my life”, and tolerating pedantic pinheads such as yourself, is no longer a thought I so charitably entertain, even if only for the merest of moments. Here endeth the Lesson. Do with it what you may.

Just keep it away from your Ego, if at all possible, because that guy is a real jackass.

Fortunately for my small community, this particular mass of moronicness has moved on to seek the haven from which he’ll lick his eventual wounds resulting from his failure, but as the diminutive Jedi Master Yoda once said to the essence of Obi-Wan Kenobi: “No. There is another”, and sadly, he’s all ours. And even worse, someone taught him how to use the Internet, as if he were a real boy. Decidedly, one that’s allegedly been taking his life cues from a David Duke pamphlet, but I digress.

I’ve written about this particularly hypocritical hate-monger at some length previously, and to be quite honest, thought that I was done wading through his ignorantly intolerant Klan kiddy-pool, but here I am yet again, pondering as to the reason why use of the Web doesn’t come with both an IQ test and a mandatory psych-evaluation. Hell, you need a license to go fish, but when it comes to the act of spewing derisively dangerous prejudice, it’s almost as if society gives you a free hamburger, a pat on the back, and wishes you the best of luck regarding your endeavor in narrow-mindedness.

The Greek philosopher Plutarch once noted that; “The mind is not a vessel to be filled but a fire to be kindled”, and if I were to ascribe this assertion to today’s screed subject, I’d have to avow that his intellectual pilot light was not only blown out quite some time ago, but that his metaphorical vessel is filled to the brim with what might be charitably described as the rancid pickled brine of bigotry as well.

In essence, my initial perception that If he were a character in a PIXAR movie, he’d either be depicted as an overly paranoid vanilla shake, or as an overly angry jar of mayonnaise, still stands, notwithstanding the fact that there’s always room for improvement, when it comes to slurring the disciples of density with accuracy and humor. And when it comes to the art of calling out Truth to alleged White Power, I’m more than happy to do it, if only to remind these Jim Crow cowards that they will never go unchallenged.

And with that, let me sadly reintroduce you to my community’s answer to what happens when you give an ethnically-paranoid child a coloring book, and only a box of Crayola flesh-tone only crayons from the 1970’s to work with. In fact, given his previously ascribed loathing for BLM, and his insistence on mewling “All Lives Matter”, I’d suggest that if the current social justice movements had been as prevalent as they are currently, he would have had this inanity proudly emblazoned on the side of his COPS lunchbox:But as usual, I’m getting slightly ahead of myself, and our waiting bigot-in-the-wings ain’t gonna announce himself, so Ladies and Gentlemen, let’s hear it for the one, and fortunately as of yet, only box in existence of Vanilla Wafers made racist flesh, who ignobly, is making his third appearance within this, my pixelated kingdom of Snark. Lucky, lucky him. Loyal Bitchiteers, may I present Mr. Ken Cykala, Nature’s retort to the query of what a night full of poor decisions, misplaced optimism, and a broken condom can manifest as in the end..

However, I have to give begrudging credit where it’s due, and to be fair, the unfortunate completion of his birth does reinforce the multiple reasons why mixing already short-changed DNA with a worldview on loan from Tucker Carlson, rarely breeds a person of exceptional character worth lauding. This is of course, my humble personal opinion alone, but far be it from me to form such an interpretation without providing evidence as to why, and the best that I can provide comes straight from the horse’s ass himself.

Oops. I obviously meant to say “horse’s mouth” instead, but apparently, my Freudian slip got caught on my keyboard. My bad. Silly me. What isn’t silly however, is that despite two previous literary deep-dives into Ken’s lack of character, humanity, cultural curiosity, and intellect, I’ve barely scratched the surface of just how emotionally and disturbingly stunted, his psyche seems to be. We all have issues, but some like Ken, seem to have a lifetime subscription to every bigoted falsehood that’s currently being printed.

These include, but are not obviously limited to the following inaccuracies, such as that there is no such thing as institutionalized racism, BLM and Antifa are domestic terrorists, victims of police brutality are in fact, deserving of what they’ve received, Whites and their “heritage / history” are under a siege of sorts from liberals, welfare recipients, Socialists, African-Americans, Communists, unchecked crime, illegal aliens, cancel-culture, science, and all of these are being manipulated or outright controlled of course, by the true enemy of the people, AKA: The Media.

Or even quite possibly, our Evil Alien-Lizard Hybrid Overlords. Which I feel, is an undeserved bad rap, given their major positive contributions to the advancement of reality television. Oh, wait… never mind.

Ken’s ideology to be sure, comes off less like a patriot espousing that which truly makes America a beacon to others, and more as if Rockwell Kent had succeeded in making the Boys from Brazil a reality, just before he was assassinated by one of his own supporters. But enough happily reminiscing of days when the planet was made a little bit lighter and better by the forced removal of one of it’ most defective cogs, because there’s snarking that needs to be done, and I’ll kick it off with this dog-whistle classic::
Typically? That would be fearfully and willingly ignorant White middle-aged persons such as yourself, Ken. You know, the kind that despite the numerous times they’ve been informed and shown evidence as to why BLM is so damn necessary, still react as if they’re the ones being cheated out of a professional victim award or something.?

And by the way? NOBODY HAS EVER DIRECTLY SAID, OR SUBTLY IMPLIED, THAT WHITE LIVES DON’T MATTER, YOU RACE-MONGERING, PARANOIA-FUELED, TESTICLE-LACKING TROGLODYTE.

What they are saying however, is a truth that you don’t want to face, and pretend most fervently doesn’t exist. That being, when it gets right down to the brass tacks of your discomfort, Black lives seemingly matter less than the snow-blinded ones of people like you, who claim that the institutionalized scourges of racism are a falsehood, as this meme so definitively states:

This declaration I note, that more likely than not, has been sent from an ivory tower within the clearly defined boundaries of a gated community, rings true, if only you ignore the race-based disparities in regards to educational funding, financial stability, economic opportunities, and truly equitable treatment under the law. But other than that, nothing to see here, people. Just go back to your side of the tracks, and whatever you do, don’t get all uppity, demanding that which we in the White community casually take for granted.

Because if the phrase “Black Lives Matter” bothers you, but the corresponding one of “Blue Lives Matter” doesn’t, then the real issue that you’re having so much trouble with isn’t the imagined priority of which lives matter, but the use of the word “Black”. And do you know why that is? The odds most likely to be considered indicate that you’re an outright racist, regardless of whatever memes you so mewingly post, which by the way, only reinforce my belief that not only are you a bigot beyond all doubt, you clearly have no cohesive argument as to why you continue to be in the first place.

Glad I could clear up this mystery of the ages for you, my blubbering bigoted buttercup. After all, it’s a widely known fact that whenever I can afford to do so, I try to offer focused guidance to the intellectually crippled. And no, you don’t have to thank me, as I do such charity for the love of the craft, as it were. Now while all evidence to the contrary says otherwise, rest assured that the GQP will always have a race card or two up its sleeve to play in relation to its unfounded claim that racism is no longer a concern for America’s collective minority demographic.

This is a ploy that I like to refer to as the “Some of my best friends are…’ gambit, and usually involve the public presentation of persons from whatever community that the GQP is currently in the process of slurring or disenfranchising, as “evidence’ that they’re not harboring or fostering openly racist tropes, a move that more often than not, backfires spectacularly, as they tend to choose spokespeople who in no way. shape, or form, are supported by those they falsely claim to represent,

As the American filmmaker and activist Bree Newsom so clearly explained; “Being a Black person who’s willing to be a public advocate for White Supremacy is  ajob that always pays, so the position is always filled.” Case in point? This modern-day Step-anie Fetch-it right here:   I’d like to point out as I’ve done in previous screeds, that if you’re going to claim that racism in America isn’t institutionalized, you just might want to make sure beforehand that your chosen flag-bearer leading the charge for such, didn’t once sue their former college for… you guessed it, “institutional racism”. Just a suggestion that I’d offer up, in an attempt to avoid any future hypocritical awkwardness.

But I will admit, I love how compliantly the African-American collaborator openly uses the codewords of “Western civilization”, as a substitute for “White culture”, because Lord knows, none of us can see the blatantly attempted whitewashing going on here, now can we? This is akin to the “Taco trucks on every corner” analogy, once made by yet another bigoted house-lackey known as Marco Guiterrez, who co-founded the political group “Latinos for Trump”.

Apparently, after gazing upon the “Roaches for Raid” civil movement, he was similarly inspired to assist in subjugating the very culture he was raised in, and that Conservatives tirelessly endeavor to keep politically docile. Sadly though, he’s not alone in his attempt to highlight the stunning inadequacies inherent within our public educational system, as proven by the photo below:

And when you keep in mind that this person is somewhat representative of the foot-soldiers of the odious Alt-Right movement masquerading as dutiful and loyal citizens, you’d have to think that it shouldn’t be nearly as hard as it has been to achieve true equality for all: Seriously. Can anybody tell me as to how it is that we’ve ever lost any of the high ground to these walking bags of racist pork-rinds?

I don’t want to be perceived as being overly petty here, but being stymied overall by a person who willingly appears like this in public when isn’t Halloween, or not on their way to their side-hustle as a professional ass-clown, is just downright embarrassing at best, no matter which side of the political fence that you may find yourself on

.I hate to break this to you Ken, but shockingly, a country founded by the White wealthy elite, who instilled a governmental system based on class to maintain power, while cruelly exploiting slave labor to build its infrastructure, may not be able to kick its labeling of African-Americans as 3/5th of a person addiction overnight, sad to say. Especially considering, said African descendants weren’t granted the right to vote freely, until the passing of the Voting Rights Act in 1965.

But yeah, racism isn’t ingrained in our national morality whatsoever, my sentient jar of racist mayo.For after all, you as a middle-aged White man, living in a town that has fewer African-Americans in it than one would find in an Osmond cover band, definitely would have his finger on the pulse of what African-Americans go through, both culturally and politically. It’s truly a puzzler as to why they as a whole, never listen to your deep insights. Such as this one, for instance:Yep… Ken’s definitely the best choice if we ever have the need for a culturally sensitive attaché to the Black community, isn’t he?  Pretty much in the same way that Matt Gaetz should be a High School coach for a girls’ basketball team, if I were to be so bold. I do love how the meme mentions that his not owning slaves and modern-day Blacks not being forced to pick cotton, somehow sets the standard for how African-Americans should gauge the fear and disenfranchisement most feel when leaving their homes.

Take it from the White man who as a child, never had to face the very real danger that he might get shot for doing the same innocuous things that White people do, such as walking, driving, eating in public, and trying to cash a check. He knows what’s best, and he’s got the memes to back it up, even if he doesn’t have the proof to support his bigotry. So, the KKK, a White supremacy group, is akin to four separate ideologies focused on equality, civil rights, and anti-fascism? I had no idea,

But then again, does Ken? Because the last time I checked, the only group I had to worry about was the one who advocates for racial purity, and it sure as f**k isn’t BLM, Antifa, or those who carry a pocket copy of The Communist Manifesto. Personally, I get the feeling that if Ken were alive and living in 1933 Berlin, he’d be the type of citizen who would happily and dutifully, let the local Sturmabteilung division know exactly who were helping the Juden.

And no, I’m not apologizing for that analogy either. In my opinion, he’s just a few matches away from lighting the metaphorical fires under both the ideas he loathes, if not the people who represent them.

But don’t ever worry about Ken being a one-schtick pony kids, because is it turns out, our favorite bigoted boy-band member is also an anti-masker too! Who would have guessed that his alleged personal idiocy had so many subtle levels to it? ’s kind of like he’s a racist lasagna, except that the noodles are pages from The Turner Diaries, and the sauce is made from the ichor that Tucker Carlson spews nightly.

Interestingly though, Ken isn’t an anti-masker in the way that you would think. There’s none of the expected conspiracy theories about how COVID-19 is/was a plot by the Chinese / Illuminati / Shadow Government / Nickelback to control the populace, and to be complimentary, I find this to be somewhat refreshing. If fairly inane. However, because Ken has the alleged intellect of a cofefe hamberder, he’s still going to put a uniquely dense spin on his POV, that literally, nobody else could top:
Sigh… this meme, posted during a time of national crisis, is figuratively so goddamn stupid, that my temporal lobe after reading it, immediately issued a letter of resignation, and retired to Florida, where the collective density there, seems almost quaint in relation to this cuckolded opinion 

“They are bothered that your strength shines a light on their weakness”?

Dude… you’re such a f**king craven that you’re literally freaking out at the mere suggestion that for the five minutes you’re inside Walmart, you could try not being a selfish prick, so maybe you should sit this one out, kitten. Preferably in the corner, wearing a damn mask. And when it comes to “strength”, I nor anybody else, should ever take any form of advice from somebody who soils themselves every time they see an African-American person wearing a BLM T-shirt walking towards them. Just my opinion, of course.

I’m also fairly certain that when it comes to being asked to practice social distancing as well, Ken is also probably one of the first in the crowd to start comparing it to communistic oppression, despite the fact that he truly has no freaking clue what that really entails. And no Ken, not being able to use the “N-word” freely in public isn’t so much oppression, as it is pest control.

Ken’s other obsession atop his personal pyramid of them, concerns what he and others of his ignorant ilk consider to be “The Enemy of the People”. I am of course, naturally referring to the Free Press, both analog and digital. And Ken despises them, with a passion only equaled by his hatred for sharing the planet with those who advocate for the people whose melanin levels are different than his.

Allegedly, of course. Just my personal observation. Nothing more.

But I would opine that If Ken’s hard-on for bashing the Media got any stiffer, the cockroaches that seemingly run his brain, could use it for a chin-up bar. Largely in part, because it’s the right size and dimension for them to do so. I myself, fortunately have no idea what it must be like to have a micro-penii, but I’d assume possessing a wang you could use to sew insignia on a white robe with, has just got to suck overall.

Allegedly, of course. Just my personal observation. Nothing more. But I would be remiss in my duty as a Snark of Great Snarkitude, if I didn’t back up what I’m stating without proof, which as we’ve all come to see is the area where Ken’s light really shines the brightest. And I for one, would hate to encroach on the only thing that he does better than anyone else. Outside of Tucker Carlson, that is

Well, this is… something, I guess. I’m really starting to form the opinion that it’s not the Media that Ken certainly hates, it’s the acronyms that define them. That’s a joke of course, but the real humor to be gleaned here is just how thin Ken’s doll-skin is in regards to what he perceives as their respective political leanings. To quote comedian Stephen Colbert; “It is a well-known fact that reality has liberal bias”, a concept that Ken views in the same way that Superman looks upon a Kryptonite condom.

Sure, it has its use, but keeping it nearby just hurts too damn much.

I do get why he might have an issue or two with the networks that consistently called out the Mango Mansicle he so desperately still pines for, but PBS? Dude… how in Odin’s name could you have any issue with a network that promotes scientific knowledge, appreciation of diverse cultures, and calls for the celebration of humanity? Never mind. I think I just answered my own question. Given his unfounded disdain, I’m starting to wonder if the Muppets should take a restraining order out on Ken, if only to protect Mr. Snuffleupagus.

Staying with the branding of the brain-dead, Ken also posted this gem of polished hypocrisy as well:
Before I gleefully dissect this particularly disingenuous masturbatory fantasy masquerading as commentary, I’d like to first post the thesaural definition of hate, classified as: “intense hostility and aversion usually deriving from fear, anger, or sense of injury”, or as “extreme dislike, disgust, antipathy, or loathing.”

And while some may see this as being the face of hatred:

I’d bluntly suggest that this, the literal personage of a disgruntled vanilla wafer with unfortunate internet access, is the one we should consistently use in its stead::
This picture is so grand in its insipidness, that the only thing that could top it for whiteness, would be if a loaf of bigoted Wonder bread took a selfie, Ooops. My bad. Obviously, one already did.

So, the present level of twisted and unhinged hatred that we’ve all been experiencing, is solely the fault of the aforementioned networks, and nobody else? Imagine that.  Because if I were to look at the current situation, I’d suggest that the responsibility of our said sociopolitical climate could be laid down at the feet of cultural and economic inequality, systematic racism, semi-fascist policing of the citizenry, right-wing propaganda and unfounded conspiracy theories, along with the consistent fear-stoking by the GQP, to name just a few.

But that’s not how Ken sees it, no siree Bob. It’s the scary TV people that are ruining this otherwise great country, and nothing else. Interesting however, that the asses of evil known as FOX, OAN, and the odious ogre known as Newsmax, somehow managed to escape being listed, huh? I’m sure that’s just an accidental oversight, given their track record for stoking the fires of increasing republican fascism, misogyny, Islamophobia, xenophobia, and outright paranoia. I’m sure Ken will get around to editing his meme, right after he gets done ironing his khakis, and polishing his tiki-torch.

Now, if Ken ever reads my collection of scribes focusing on him, he’ll probably take great offense at being accurately labeled as a bigot, and that’s to be expected. As the saying goes: “Racism isn’t a touchy topic, if you’re not a f**king racist”, and I would have to agree. But ol’ Ken I’m sure, would be injurious to with that POV, as he most likely believes that his unsubstantiated bigotry isn’t the result of his being an alleged racist, it’s because his pride in being White is being wrongly misinterpreted.

Naturally, this doesn’t translate as a clarion call to arms for White supremacy at all.

In fact, here’s a beautiful presentation of what Ken believes, taken yet again, directly from his Facebook page. While I may be “blocked” from it, others are not, and I can’t thank them enough for doing the hate harvesting that I require to keep you all so entertained:Damn. I’ve heard of a persecution complex, but never a persecution planet. I’m not sure what color the sky is in the hellish fantasy world that Ken resides in, but if I had to take an educated guess, it’s probably charcoal grey, and rains razor blades wrapped in Colin Kapernick posters. I’ve often made the joke that these drama queens play the victim card so much, that they should carry their own police chalk, but I feel I may need to amend this where Ken’s warped sense of being a target of the liberal mindset is seemingly concerned.

Ken should not only continue to carry his huge bag of pure white (of course) chalk, he should probably add a team of CSI’s to eventually prove one day that his bigoted paranoiac delusions are justified. But I wouldn’t be me if I didn’t break down this ode to self-pitying putridness, so let’s rock.

Ken: “I will not apologize for being Caucasian”

Who exactly, has ever asked you to? And at what point, did this supposedly happen? Or is it more accurate to say, that you don’t appreciate the fact that minorities are demanding the same access to the equality and privileges that you take for granted, and are ever so brusquely (for you, anyway) raising these uncomfortable issues to the light? Nah, that couldn’t be it. After all, as always, you’re the victim of cruel fate here, and all because others are biased against you due to your skin tone.

A social disorder I’m sure, that the African-American advocacy groups you fear and despise so much, would know nothing about. Here’s a cookie to ease your pain, champ- you know where I suggest you stuff it.

Ken: “I will not apologize for supporting good cops.”

Nor will you for supporting the bad ones caught on video murdering citizens either, but I’ll be addressing this hypocrisy of yours in some depth, later on.

Ken: “I will not apologize for loving my Asian, Native American, Black American & Hispanic friends.”

Once again, when did any liberal, or rational conservative for that matter, ask you to do this? I’d normally suggest that you’ve been listening to the voices in your head more than you normally do, but the odds are more likely in favor that they’re currently hanging out in the same place where your imaginary friends are, due to their embarrassment of being publicly associated with you.

Ken: “I will not bend my knee for anyone but the Lord.”

And yet, you’ll willingly get down on both, to swallow whatever FOX and Sean Hannity ram down your throat without the benefit of dinner and dancing first? Weird, that. And in reference to the “Lord”, I can only assume you’re name-dropping Jesus, the mythical Son of the mythical God, whose teachings you don’t follow, whose life lessons you never learned, and whose message of providing comfort and understanding to your fellow human, you deliberately ignore.

Not to mention that since there are a multitude of other Gods being worshiped on this planet at present, I’d suggest that you not forget the following truth of :the situation at hand:

Because as your chosen imaginary Lord is supposed to already know, I’d hate for you to be perceived as the hypocrite we all know you to be, so I took the slogan you’re so fond of screeching, and just tweaked it a bit. I really hope you like it as much as I do.

However, there is a question I must ask of you, Ken- if you truly are a Christian, then why is it that a Black man taking a knee to protest police brutality annoys you so much? After all, in this country we have no ;less than 8M Jehovah’s Witnesses who don’t salute the American flag, and 200T Amish, who won’t stand for the National Anthem. But a lone African-American kneels respectfully, and all of a sudden, it’s as if someone gave you an atomic wedgie. Yep. Nothing there to unpack, that’s for certain.

Ken: “I will not be brainwashed by the media.”

This bold assertion of independent thought brought to you by a walking bumper sticker who routinely posts fake “statistics”, disingenuous memes, and cherry-picked conspiracy theories, but I digress. Also, in order to be brainwashed, one must have a brain to begin with, so…  but as an added bonus,, when the zombie apocalypse finally happens, this mental deficiency of yours will actually become a strength for something other than embarrassing your parents on a daily basis. A natural immunity from the walking dead, as well as knowing that if ignorance is truly bliss, you must be Zen 24/7?

I may actually be a tad bit jealous here. No lie.

Ken: ”I will not apologize for believing in the Second Amendment.”

There’s a crowbar separation when it comes to believing in the 2nd, written when muskets were considered to be state of the art at the time, versus now, where any schmuck can lay down more ordinance inside an Arby’s faster than the time it takes somebody to blink. For the record, I’m not anti-gun, I’m anti-frustrated-inced-with-unfettered-access-to-guns, and that’s it. For people who claim not to “live in fear”, as you often do, you guys also seem to be afraid of everything in general, regardless of whether or not a bullet could actually stop it.

If you have more bullets in your home then books, odds are pretty good you shouldn’t be allowed to carry in the first place. But what do I know? Maybe it’s perfectly normal to have a need to strap on a fake dick when you go to get a cup of coffee. After all, you might run into a Black person there, and you don’t want to be caught without firepower if they dare to start kneeling. Or even worse, sit at the table next to yours.

Ken: “I will not apologize for being a God-fearing American.”

Nor should you, as the amusement you’re providing claiming to be one, is pure comedy gold that none of us want to see stop anytime soon. You’re an American very much in the same way that I, a partial amputee, am the principal dancer for the Moscow Ballet. You don’t get to call yourself an American, if you loathe both the forward progress of civil rights and the demographic that so desperately requires them. Just saying.

And “God-fearing”? If your mythical God is love, as his best-selling novel of fiction suggests, then why as a faithful believer, should you ever have to worry about being subjected to his wrath? Oh, that’s right… because at best he’s an absentee landlord, and at worst, a petty murdering sociopath. You know, the kind of role model that everyone should take moral cues from. As I’ve noted before, I have zero issue with Faith, when it’s being used as either a crutch or a shield, but when it’s transparently weaponized to justify one’s personal biases and lack of character, that’s when my claws come out.

And as a heads up Ken, if there truly is a God, I can only wish you good luck as you explain to his celestial face as to why you were perfectly fine with ignoring the decree to be found within John 15:12, which says: “This is my commandment, That ye love one another, as I have loved you.” I’m sure he’ll totally see your side, what with his tendency to velvet glove all those who don’t follow his vaguely arbitrary list of rules.

On a related note, when he kicks you into Hell, feel free to drop by my condo overlooking the Lake of Fire, as I throw both one hell of a BBQ, and I would love to introduce you to my next-door neighbor, Bob Ross. Just don’t ask him about “happy trees”. He’ll literally talk your head off, and nobody wants that.

Let me if I may, take a moment to recap our tale up to this point thus far. I’ve covered Ken’s obsession with BLM & Antifa in previous outings, noting his unfounded paranoia and bigotry in relation to such, and here, I’ve touched upon his intense dislike of the media that doesn’t share his inane world view. I’ve highlighted his refusal to accept the indisputable fact that whether he likes it or not, America continues to fail in its attempt to acknowledge its inherent racism, and that he’s one of the cogs in its clockwork juggernaut of corrupted jingoism.

And with that, you might think that there could be possibly nothing further to discuss in regards to Ken, but you’d be wrong. While I’ve firmly established his alleged bigotry, and wryly noted his lack of cultural sensitivity, I’d also have to express some form of begrudging admiration that he can literally swallow anything the GQP pushes, as if he were a Republican porn star.

However, that’s the beauty of dealing with someone whose character is what one might consider to be at rock-bottom already… once you’re done sweeping their metaphorical cellar floor, you terrifyingly discover that it has a previously concealed crawlspace.

This is not to suggest that it’s akin in any way, shape, or form to the one that was in John Wayne Gacy’s house, and filled up to the floor beams with the corpses of young men, nor does it share any similarities to mine, which is crowded with not only the remains of karaoke enthusiasts, but those soulless bastards who start filling out a personal check at a grocery store, but only after they’ve been standing in the “cash only” line for the previous ten minutes.

No, I think it’s far more diplomatic of me to submit that when it comes to Ken’s allegorical hidey-hole, the only corpus delicti to be observed will be the cadavers of his flawed conscience. While he arguably may not be 100% responsible for stacking the remains of his logic, humanity, and religious faith in a disused corner as if they were cordwood for the firepit, he most definitely didn’t do a damn thing to keep their demise from becoming imminent, either. And for that, I see no need to cut him any type of slack.

What can I say? A Snark has to have his standards, or all becomes chaos. Chaos, I tell you. But what is the polar opposite of chaos, you ask? Well, that would be Order of course, whether that’s enforced by either by the deliberate enaction of society at large, or stereotypically, under the firm hand and steely gaze of law enforcement’s varying levels. Levels I might add, that are justifiably being put under the microscope these days, much to Ken’s impotent anger.

As you read earlier, Ken proudly boasted that he wouldn’t “apologize for supporting good cops”, not that anybody should ever feel that they have to do so as a rule, but he also won’t go out of his way to condemn bad ones either, and that’s kind of a sticky wicket when one is riding their high-horse on the crumbling ledge of an ivory tower. I’ve called attention to Ken’s hypocrisy regarding his selective soap-boxing in earlier screeds, but the best two examples I can think to repost would be these two shining examples of personal contradiction:
Man, the amount of doublethink required to maintain both of these opinions in tandem, is probably the main reason as to why Ken’s extended warranty on his intellect got cancelled almost immediately. In essence, Ken duly maintains that you should ALWAYS follow a police officer’s commands without question, unless you just so happen to disagree with them, in which case, your eventual arrest is the byproduct of unconditional overreach, and you’re really the one who’s the true victim in this scenario.

Coincidentally, this opinion of his never seems to be applied to African-Americans when they’re in the same situation, but I’m sure that’s only because they obviously have no idea how to do the White thing, pun most definitely intended. In fact, it seems that when it comes to the numerous incidents of police brutality, racial profiling, and outright murder of his fellow citizens at the hands of the cops, Ken has no other POV, save for the fact that the cops are never at fault.

And that, irrelevant of whatever video evidence or eyewitness testimony may be provided as proof that a civil rights violation occurred. Don’t misunderstand me, we’ve all had a moment or two in our lives where we’ve walked on by a situation wearing blinders, but very few of us would go so far as to overdo it and Superglue our eyes shut as an additional precaution against that which makes us uncomfortable.

But since Ken has no sense of reality to begin with, he’ll post intellectual diamonds such as this, where he chides a constitutionally elected lawmaker, who just so happens to be a member of the disproportionally harassed race currently protesting abusive authority, no less. But why exactly, is Ken so upset to begin with? Well, it might have something to do with the fact that he thinks the pursuit of Justice is supposed to stick to the schedule of his own legally warped time-clock:Personally, I would love to hear Ken’s rationalization for the death of Philandro Castle, who was following an officer’s commands when he was murdered by the same in front of his own kid, or that of 12-year-old Tamir Rice, who was murdered as he played in a public park with a toy gun, by an officer who shot him immediately after getting out of his car. And who, BTW, voiced no commands whatsoever, before doing so.

Maybe we should talk about Breonna Taylor, gunned down in her own home, as police were serving an illegally obtained an illegal warrant, under the guise of searching for an individual that they ALREADY HAD in custody? I’m sure his defense will be epic in its scope. Honestly at this point, I’m stunned by Ken’s ability to consistently tie himself into a Gordian’s Knot without his kidneys squirting out his nose.

Also, you just have to love the following totally non-racist advice from the middle-aged White dude that goes: “If the victims would just follow the instructions given by law enforcement they would be alive today. Third, you should be teaching your race the importance of personal accountability to themselves, their family and to society,”

Hmm. Did anyone else notice the Freudian slip peeking out from under Ken’s weekend BBQ robe? He didn’t say “criminals”, or “suspects”, pr even “thugs”. He said “victims”. This seems an odd choice of phrase to enlist, if the individuals who were murdered at the hands of the police were the ones truly at fault, don’t you think?

For the definition of such, is as follows; :“One that is acted on and usually adversely affected by a force or agent, one that is injured, destroyed, or sacrificed under any of various conditions, one that is subjected to oppression, hardship, or mistreatment.” By this classification alone, it’s fairly obvious who’s at fault here, and it sure as f**k isn’t the Black people that Ken feels need to hear his condescending concern.

The condescendingly self-righteous counsel of “this means conduct yourself in a professional manner, especially when authority figures are involved”, targeting a demographic that cares not for his opinion nor the open machinations of those who tend to oppress them, is particularly galling as well, if I were to say the very least, as apparently this instruction doesn’t seemingly apply to the person who was arrested for doing the very same thing that Ken said YOU SHOULD NEVER DO,under any circumstances, in his hypocritical posting above.

I wonder exactly White that is. Sorry. I meant to say “why”. Yes. I definitely meant “why”. DEFINITELY THAT, AND NOT THE OTHER THING YET AGAIN. But maybe I’m making too much of his slip of the fingers, because if Ken is known for one thing past being an alleged and hatefully misinformed bigot, it’s his innate ability to come up with viable solutions to society’s ills:

Yup… let’s all try to change the so-called mind of a Blue Lives bootlicker whose access door to it is sealed up tighter than Ebenezer Scrooge’s wallet at a gentlemen’s club during happy hour. While I do agree with the fact that the police should be granted a modicum of esteem, I’d also state that the mantle of Respect is earned, and the one of civility is granted. And in the case of “bad” cops, they don’t deserve the first, and generally test the tensile strength of the second.

However, Ken doesn’t appear to believe that bad cops exist, despite all evidence available for his casual perusal to the contrary. This critique, is reinforced by yet another posting of his, and as usual, just simply reeks with the stench of his hypocritical self-righteous privilege yet again:

This inanity by the way, is brought to you by a person who still supports the criminal mango that is Donald Trump, and as you can see by the two equally as dense comments from two of his ilk, just hammers home how wide a net ignorance can cast. I mean… “Saitenist”? C’mon Walter… you may be far older than the dry-rot that sits in the creased folds of that shrunken apple you call a brain, but you had to have seen “Rosemary’s Baby” when you still remembered how to spell, didn’t you?

And Ken? If a cop deliberately (and cruelly) murders the very people he’s only supposed to arrest, then guess what? He’s no longer a cop, he is in fact, the “lowest of the low”, and there is no distinguishing him from the underclass you are so willfully game to see purposefully mistreated. There’s also the concept of  ‘innocent until proven guilty”, an inconvenient truth that you don’t seem to appreciate much.

It’s widely known as “Due Process”, and serves as a crucial legal protection and cornerstone to that which ensures our citizenry doesn’t get locked up on a whim and a prayer. And it’s supposed to apply to all, regardless of skin tone, personal influence, wealth, or past criminal history. Shockingly, cops aren’t supposed to murder the guilty. But even more relevant? They’re not supposed to slaughter the ones who haven’t been proven to be so, either. You know, because they support the enforcement of our laws, and not the prosecutorial actions resultant against those who break them?

Take for instance, the abominably inhuman death of Minneapolis resident George Floyd, who met his end at the hands of a sadistic piece of Satan’s bacon with a badge, a now unemployed and rightfully convicted sociopath, by the name of Derek Chauvin. Here’s an evidentiary photo of officer Dudley Dowrong at work, engaging in the activity that will hopefully ensure that when he goes to prison, he’ll get passed around like a pack of top-shelf cigarettes:

While Chauvin’s defense team pitifully tried (and subsequently failed) to sell Floyd’s death as “excited delirium”, a debunked theory which conveniently doubles as a liability-neutering excuse, Floyd hardly met the requirements for such a bogus claim to begin with.

He was handcuffed face down on the pavement, with three other officers in proximity, and there was no defensible reason for Chauvin to purposefully (if not coldly) place his knee on Floyd’s neck, as he and the other complicit slabs of Satan’s bacon watched dispassionately as his life was choked out of him, for NINE AND A HALF MINUTES. This occurred unabated, despite pleas from Floyd’ and the gathered crowd, begging Chauvin to stop.

A side note of sorts? If it wasn’t necessary to choke to death the seditionist who in the process of doing so, murdered a cop by bashing in his head with a fire extinguisher, then it sure as f**k wasn’t necessary to do so to a handcuffed suspect, for doing nothing more than allegedly attempting to pass a fake Jackson, Unless of course, you’re emulating the behavior of Jackson himself in regards to how he treated Black people, that is.

At Chauvin’s trial, his defense team feebly asserted that Floyd’s history of drug use and underlying conditions caused his death, and not the effect of having his neck compressed, Unfortunately for their shift the blame game, two separate autopsies, one conducted by the Hennepin County Medical Examiner, and the other by a private medical examiner hired by Floyd’s family, mutually agreed that Floyd’s passing was due to an act of homicide, meaning his death came at the hands of Derek Chauvin, and was not, I repeat NOT, due to his heart condition and prior drug use.

Sorry Kenny. I know how much you had your heart set on wanting to be able to pin it on the Black guy, but I’m afraid, that much like your sex life, you came up short in the dark, yet again.

However, the opinion of respected and qualified professionals that eventually led to Chauvin’s conviction, and which was based on the autopsies and the videotaped evidence showing the murder, doesn’t mean squat to a Trump fetishizing troglodyte like Ken, and he’s definitely not afraid to say so, when given the merest of opportunities to do so, once again utilizing the platform of the social media giant he claimed he was going to leave months ago,

That is, until he realized that outside of his like-minded bubble, he would have zero relevance. For let’s face it, being just another middle-aged intellectually impotent ignoramus that posts inane offal like this, hardly qualifies you as a brave maverick, even among your own willing-to-worship-a-turnip kind:

Well. That settles it. Kenbot here, was once seated for two days in a jury for a civil suit, which as we all know from watching reruns of Law & Order episodes, is so similar to one involving an abuse of authority leading to an unjust death (AKA: a murder) that one could easily be misconstrued for the other. If Ken views sexual congress in the same way that he does the law, I can only assume that his girlfriend sports a whole bunch of bruises around her belly-button after he performs his dismount.

We can just ignore the testimony of eyewitnesses who were at the scene, the medical evidence presented by the multiple qualified specialists within their respective fields, and most certainly, we can jettison the cellphone camera footage that SHOWED THE MURDER AS IT HAPPENED. Because after all, that officer just had to be in fear for his life, right? Sure, there were three other officers there, and the victim was both face down and handcuffed as well, but I’m sure Chauvin was justified in feeling that he, and not Floyd, was the one closest to fading into fatality.

Remember boys and girls, when it comes to the issue of cops murdering African-Americans, you really can’t trust your eyes, so much as you can the people who investigate themselves, now can you?

I won’t speak for you, but if I ever thought for even one second, that the handcuffed man on whose neck that I currently had my knee on, posed a serious and direct threat to my personal safety, I’d make damn sure that my hands weren’t jammed in my pockets as Chauvin’s were, as seen in the captured video. It seems to me, that if you were facing a risk of a physical attack, it’d be a good idea to have the two tools you’d require the most to stave if off, somewhat unencumbered. But maybe that’s just me.

Ken however, seemingly thinks that incontrovertible evidence is not so, and that the “real” reason Chauvin was convicted was due to an outside influence, because… of course it must. It’s one thing to claim and with some accuracy I might add, that the jurors already had their minds made up, due mostly to the due to the overwhelming evidence that painted Chauvin (correctly) as guilty, but as always for Ken, reality itself has to find itself altered, because… of course it must:Sorry you feel that way Tucker. But as the cops like to say; “You fit the description.” And referring toi one being held accountable for their actions as “lynching”? When you get hung from a tree for trying to vote, or for looking the wrong way at a White woman, then you’ll have the right to say such bulls**it with a straight face. Until then, seriously shut the f**k up, you suit wearing pig sphincter.

 The thought that all that goes against your core beliefs, must be a conspiracy, serves as a comforting salve to those who have no f**king clue as to how things actually work, but I digress. Ken has forgotten one of the foundational truths in order to validate his bigoted ignorance, and that is this: that which can be asserted without evidence, can also be dismissed without evidence. Funny how that works. So, what, or who to be more specific, does Ken hold responsible for the verdict that he claimed denied Justice its due?

Would we, or should we, expect anything less from this walking pile of acerbically asinine tapioca than laying the “blame’ on his favorite go-to boogeyman? I say nay. Nay, I say:

As I said earlier; “that which can be asserted without evidence, can also be dismissed without evidence”, and when it comes to being disingenuous, Ken approaches the act as if he were competing in the 1936 Summer Olympics. Sadly, when his intellectual resolve is tested, he tends to be a “short pole, no vault” kind of guy, as my late Oma was fond of saying.

This in itself is not startling by any means, as alleged bigots aren’t exactly renowned for their ability to carve out a niche regarding critical thinking, but mythical Jesus Christ, if Ken gets any more paranoiac about them there uppity Black people that he obsesses over as if if they all dumped him the night of the prom, we’re going to have to take away his car keys, the sharp and/or stabby objects in his trailer, and the remote control for his FOX-tuned TV.

The end result of this delusional putridness also leads to what I refer to as a supreme example of “creative omission”, where one presents a counter-argument so-called, by interlacing threads of truth within a quilt comprised of falsehoods. A prime example of this technique, would be the mentioning that African-Americans encompass a majority of America’s prison population, while ignoring the economic, educational, and the systematically racist inequalities that helped place them there to begin with.

I will say this as simply as I can without the aid of hand-puppets, Ken- the scary African-Americans are not, I repeat, NOT, coming to “burn down” your neighborhood, your workplace, or your coffee shop, so relax, you mental midget. For hopefully the last time, Black Lives Matter is not an anti-white movement, because (GASP!) it has nothing to do with you, despite your rather extensive and obvious bigotry.

Forearmed with this credible knowledge, as well as the ability to use it efficiently, let’s all take a gander at Ken’s attempt to weave half-truths into a fraudulent tapestry, and discover together what happens when an alleged bigot and the information that Google proves with actual facts, are still on a break:Score one for Ken! He actually managed to get this right… sort of. Turning to his battered copy of the dog-eared right-wing playbook, page twelve, paragraph three, if memory serves. The standard ploy is that which is inaccurate is disseminated, but the rest, of the relevant story is deliberately excised in the manner of a cancerous tumor, so that it may stand free on its feet of clay, as if it were a misguided Golem, seeking out a good Reuben.

For me to say this statement was obsessively cherry-picked to strengthen Ken’s flawed take, would be almost a supreme insult to the act itself.

To clarify, Lisa Christensen, the person that Ken is referencing, did not have any part in the final verdict as she was an alternate juror, but did divulge to journalist Jamie Yuccas on “CBS This Morning,” that; “I was worried about, you know, whatever the verdict may be if some people felt strongly on one side, other people felt strongly on the other side. So, no matter what, I felt like somebody wasn’t going to be happy,”

Now, if one takes that statement at face value with no further context, it does seem a damning indictment that most certainly bolsters Ken’s paranoid fever dream, does it not? I can only begin to imagine the level of self-pleasuring Ken must have engaged in after hearing that snippet, which to be fair, might be the sole reason why he missed the rest of her commentary that followed, because there ain’t enough blood in the male body to make both heads operate smoothly at the same time.

Continuing, she went on to say: “I felt he was guilty. They read the jury instructions to us in the courtroom briefly, but I didn’t know it was going to be guilty on all counts but I would have said guilty,”

In response to Yucca’s query of “Why did you think he was guilty? What led you to that belief?”, Christensen replied; “I just felt like the prosecution made a really good, strong argument. Dr. Tobin was the one that really did it for me. He explained everything. I understood it down to where he said this is the moment that he lost his life, really got to me,”

Regarding both the cellphone video that showed the cruelty involved in Floyd’s death as well as the bystander Darnella Frazier, who filmed it, Christensen noted; “I really felt that she felt guilty for not doing more and she feels responsible in a way, and I feel really bad for her. But I commend her on taking the video because, without her, I don’t think this would have been possible,” “It was emotional. I think my eyes teared up a couple of times, so especially seeing it from different angles and things,”

Despite Christensen’s feeling of personal discomfort being within the sighted proximity of Chauvin, her impression of him was thus: “I felt like he was the leader, and the other officers were following his lead. I kind of felt like he wasn’t taking the warnings seriously, obviously, kind of like I know what I’m doing,”

After the main jury pool were sent to deliberate Chauvin’s guilt or innocence. Christensen, along with another alternate juror was discharged, her civic duty obligation fulfilled. After more than 10 hours of debate spread over the course of two days, Chauvin was found guilty on three charges: second-degree murder, third-degree murder, and manslaughter, after which, his bond was revoked and he was placed immediately into custody.

In theory, Chauvin could spend decades in jail, as in Minnesota, second-degree murder can carry a maximum sentence of up to 40 years in prison. Third-degree up to 25 years, and second-degree manslaughter, up to 10. And if Justice is truly served, as it should be, that would be a total of 75 years, if served back-to-back, which let’s be honest, is obviously not going to happen,

But irrespective of how many years this murdering bacon-bitch receives in the end, I hold out hope that the next time he sees the sun, it’ll be when his relatives carry him out past the prison gates, secured within the confines of a crematoria urn. Ken may possibly be the only person on this f**ked up ball of space-dust and granite that can watch a video of a fellow human being getting murdered by a sworn officer of the law, and express the concern that hopefully, said cop didn’t get any of the victim’s blood on his shoes as he did it.

The reprehensible murder of George Floyd is in no way, shape, or form, a “wake-up call”. The damn alarm clock has been going off in this country since it was founded, and those like Ken, prefer to just keep hitting the snooze button ham-handedly, versus doing something about it, like unplugging the clock from its damn power supply.

I’ve said it before. I will most likely have to say it again. I don’t know what the f**k your particular problem is Ken, but I’m fairly certain it’s hard to pronounce. However, I’d also have to assume you couldn’t enunciate it clearly to me either, given the fact that your mouth is seemingly always chomping down on a pack of these:Wow. I’m currently up to 11K+ words, and I could literally write another 11K+, without breaking a sweat, given the never-ending void that passes for Ken’s limited intellect, However, I’m also starting to notice that whenever I get a new batch of Ken’s screen-grabbed assertions from a carefully chosen few of his FB “friends”, a miasma of pure malevolent toxicity slowly starts visibly forming over my trusty IBM Thinkpad, because even it knows the depth of the cesspool I’m about to go skinny-dipping in.

Metaphorically, of course, thank Odin. Although to be quite honest, swimming in a cesspool would probably be a welcome break from what feels like continuous wading through the ostensibly overflowing swine lagoon that’s exists within whatever mental aberration assumes itself to be Ken’s humanity analog.

I do have a great deal of sympathy for Ken though, believe it or not, as it must be a real bitch being able to only see three colors, that being Black, White, and Blue. Not to mention, the qualities he willingly ascribes to each, are either so far beyond the pale of rationality, or so abominably dense, that I almost feel compelled to give him both a puppy and a bowl of homemade chicken soup.

Please note that I said “almost” For while I happen to be rather emphatic in regards to showing less intelligent creatures a measure of mercy every now and then, I tend to draw a definitive line in the bland when the same creatures repeatedly keep getting their leg caught in an obvious snare trap. If one of your two kids keeps sticking his tongue into a light socket, and the other doesn’t… well, you know which one’s going to an Ivy league college, and who’s going to wind up attending DeVry.  

Or even worse, emerge as Ken’s personal hero, a twice-impeached, thrice-married, adulterous, porn-star-paying, lying, cowardly, treasonous, fraudulent man-child glaring from behind a desk, because nobody likes you. And that not only includes the world, your country, and your hometown, but your wife and kids as well. So the message here is stay in school, and make sure to study Benford’s Law, because it’s the literal key to the universe.

And just like this boiled ham in a wig that he still admires, Ken allegedly shares the same accord to engage in the most vulgar of implied slurs apropos to race relations, as well as not possessing the simplest of grasps on the sub-textual when it comes to semantics. Case in point? Ken’s deliberate misunderstanding of what the slogan and movement of “Defund the Police” actually means on its face:No, Ken. I don’t have the “guts” to share this moronic misunderstanding of yours all over on Facebook, because unlike yours, mine actually know what “defund the police’ truly means.

Sure, despite the reality that your deposed and now currently depressed, Mango Mussolini once publicly said that; “We won’t be defunding our police. There won’t be dismantling of our police. There’s not going to be any disbanding of our police”, the awkward fact remains that this apocalyptic scenario foisted by Herr Twitler and his GQP enablers, is not only utterly insane, but demonstrably untrue to boot.

To clarify that which Ken once again, dares not research, because it would reduce his stockpile of memes which he uses to cover his inability to debate using facts, I present the definition of a good concept, even if it is indeed, truly worded badly: “Defund the police” means nothing more than reallocating or redirecting targeted funding elements away from outfitting police with gear more akin  to that of Seal Team Six, and using it to underwrite programs that are designed to better serve the local community. Such as mental crisis counselors, for instance, as not every call requires an armed response.

And that’s all of it, presented in the simplest of nutshells, no less. It does not, on any f**king level, call for the abolishment of the police, nor has it ever been a demand for reducing the pay and benefits of said officers, either. I have to admit, for however long it’ll be that I get to live, I’ll probably never understand exactly how a person like Ken can spend so much time online, and yet, never set aside any of it, to do the merest of credible research.

 If he ever did, he might even win the occasional argument using actual facts to do so, every now and then. Granted, it could be also reasonably debated that I’ve spent way too much time downloading images of Milla Jovovich wearing thigh boots, but heck… even I still found the time to investigate the intricacies of the ACA in between pondering how she’d look in a Wonder Woman outfit.

Seriously Ken, you’re supposed to be a red-blooded American male- if you can’t cruise the web using only one hand, you should either turn in your man card, or watch the Phoebe Cates pool scene from the 80’s classic “Fast Times at Ridgemont High”, until you get your rhythm down.

You know which one I’m talking about. And I can guarantee, it’s a far better fantasy to obsess over, than the ones you’re currently having involving BLM. I will happily be the first to point out that the term “defunding” is an unfortunate flash point, but it’s also pointedly accurate for me to say as well, that if somebody truly wants to know what this movement regarding the demilitarization of the police is all about, Google and the information it can offer up, is no more than a few clicks away.

Therein however, lies the rub- no matter what the issue is, the person who’s either for it, or diametrically opposed against it, still must feel the need to educate themselves in regards to it, and those like Ken who blissfully exist inside a bubble amalgamated from ignorance and hubris, are never going to do so. After all, nothing upsets a bigoted Utopian gated community half as much as the graffiti of Truth does.

When it gets right to the cream filling of the perfectly chilled Ding Dong, the personal dedication to this sort of willful ignorance is kind of impressive, given the ease with which someone can choose to educate themselves. Knowing that this assessment is true, why would anyone make the conscious choice to fearfully wallow, as they strive to foster an unfamiliarity with reality in this, the Age of Accessible Information?

To what benefit does it serve to be proud of your intellectual illiteracy and outright loathing for that which should bind us in unity, but tragically, only serves to fuel those who despise all that they refuse to understand? Des it give you a sense of the power you currently don’t, and never will, have? Does it replace the love, intimacy, and prestige your life lacks? These are serious questions by the way, and I already know that you won’t (or to be more precise, can’t) answer, even if your life depended on it. Which when given grave thought, it kind of does.

I’ve always believed that when you shuffle off this mortal coil, the people who attend your funeral should uniformly be wearing black, and crying their eyes out, as they grieve your passing. If however, they’re tailgating with BBQ and beer kegs in the parking lot of the cemetery waving giant cardboard-cut-out middle fingers in the direction of your newly dug grave, odds are probably pretty good that your presence won’t be missed.                             In the end, Ted finally did get the Last Word concerning Aunt Karen, after all.            

Nonetheless, this continual back and forth that I, and many others, find ourselves engaging in with people who would disastrously lose a battle of wits against a rice cake, reminds me of an exchange from Christopher Nolan’s Batman movie, “The Dark Knight”, which occurs between the heroic alter-ego of billionaire playboy Bruce Wayne, and the iconic super-villain known as the Joker, delivered with a sense of ironic joy, as he hangs upside down, off the side of a building:

Joker: “You. You just couldn’t let me go, could you? This is what happens when an unstoppable force meets an immovable object. You truly are incorruptible, aren’t you? Huh? You won’t kill me out of some misplaced sense of self-righteousness. And I won’t kill you because you’re just too much fun. I think you and I are destined to do this forever.”

BATMAN: “You’ll be in a padded cell forever.”

Joker: “Maybe we could share one. You know, they’ll be doubling up the rate this city’s inhabitants are losing their minds”.

BATMAN: “This city just showed you that it’s full of people ready to believe in good.”

Joker: “Until their spirit breaks completely. Until they get a good look at the real Harvey Dent, and all the heroic things he’s done. You didn’t think I’d risk losing the battle for Gotham’s soul in a fist fight with you. No. You need an ace in the hole. Mine’s Harvey.”

BATMAN: “What did you do?”

Joker: “I took Gotham’s white knight and I brought him down to our level. It wasn’t hard. You see, madness, as you know, is like gravity. All it takes is a little push.”

In Ken’s case, I don’t think it was so much a “push’ that steered him towards his particularly vile form of madness, as it was a gleeful hop, skip, and jump. For him to fully embrace an ideology better suited to fascism, and its cadre of obedient and lowly curs, required nothing more than willing compliance, and a predisposition to jump-starting a previously in-check sense of inane intolerance. Shockingly, when one lays down with the dogs of racism, they shouldn’t be at all surprised when they wake up with fleas the size of doorknobs.

Glass houses built on foundations of racist quicksand, and all that jazz.

Nevertheless, there’s a reason why I referenced the Dark Knight-, and it’s not just because it’s a great movie with a standout performance by Heath Ledger as Gotham’s eternal Clown Prince of Crime. It’s also because it inadvertently calls out the immovable object that America, if not the world, will always have to contend with, that being, the proliferation of willful ignorance.

There is possibly no stronger force on Earth than the will of someone who feels that they are being involuntarily forced to give up their preconceived notions, especially if they’re founded in a belief, rather than on evidentiary proof.

Backing up my POV, I present yet another interaction from earlier in the film, this one happening between our soon-to-be-fallen hero Harvey Dent, and the always-a-step-ahead Joker, where he wryly observes that: ”It’s the schemers who put you where you are. You were a schemer. You had plans. Look where it got you. I just did what I do best- I took your plan, and I turned it on itself. Look what I’ve done with this city and a few drums of gas and a couple of bullets.

Nobody panics when the expected people get killed. Nobody panics when things go according to plan, even if the plan is horrifying. If I tell the press that tomorrow, a gangbanger will get shot, or a truckload of soldiers will be blown up, nobody panics. Because it’s all part of the plan. But when I say that one little old mayor will die, everybody loses their minds. Introduce a little anarchy, you upset the established order and everything becomes chaos.

I’m an agent of chaos. And you know the thing about chaos, Harvey? It’s fair.”

See, we as Americans, have come to expect a fair amount of the people within a certain segment of our society, to be nuttier than Marjorie Taylor Greene giving a speech concerning Dr, Seuss. It is after all, “part of the plan”, but nobody, save outside Nostradamus himself, could ever have foreseen the influential reach of the lunacy we’ve been subjected to over the last five years. And we, just as our grease-paint clad antihero noted; “are destined to do this forever”, if the current trend of personal idiocy continues.

And make no mistake, my loyal readers, the base of GQP enablers and their disciples who are most responsible for the wave of anti-everything-humanistic currently eroding the soul of this country, are unquestionably, just waiting in the wings to launch scheme after scheme, as a means to regain their grasp on unchecked and of utmost importance, wholly corrupted power.   

In retrospect, Ken’s paranoia-fueled masturbatory fantasies regarding the “war” on cops, White culture, society, religion, the 2nd Amendment, free speech, honest media, the American judicial system, and the flammability of our inner cities, seems almost quaint by comparison, given the fact that there’s people out there who truly believe that a cabal of Satan-worshiping pedophiles who, while openly engaging in baby-centric cannibalism, also serve as overseers of a world-wide child sex-trafficking ring,

One that has a division being run out of a pizza shop’s basement, and by Hillary Clinton, no less,

In addition, they also found the time somehow, to foment a plot against former U.S. president Donald Trump while he was in office. You know, the adulterous, pu**y-grabbing, pornstar paying, treasonous, seditionist disgraced President with one of the lowest rates of sex trafficking prosecutions in recent history, who also has intimate personal and business ties to no less than five well-known pedophiles?

Sigh. It’s stuff like this that makes me wish Jewish Space Lasers were actually a real thing.

While Ken’s bigotry is a very palpable thing, the rest of his false narrative is certainly not, and neither is his sense of patriotism, his so-called Christian faith, or his concerns for those who just so happen to be outside his immediate Klan. Sorry… I meant to say “clan”.

YES… DEFINITELY THAT, AND NOT THE OTHER THING, ONCE MORE. Damn these klumsy fingers of mine.

My late Oma was fond of saying that some people’s only purpose on this planet was to remind us all what not to ever be, and in regards to that characteristic, I now feel that if she ever met Ken, he’d easily make the cut for her top three of whom not to emulate, although to be fair, I never understood why Mr. Rogers was ever on that list to begin with. My only guess would have to focus on his love of cardigan sweaters and hanging out with creepy puppets.

Who knows? Maybe I should have asked some questions, when I had the chance to do so.

Asking questions. It’s what we all should do if something that confuses or challenges us, flies across our radar, but to do so with an open and curious mind, especially right from the start, if you suffer from the lack of one. is too much of a trial for some. Ken being a prime example of this affliction, as we’ve come to discover through his dedicated approach to showing us all exactly why, some people go on to college, and others, shouldn’t be allowed to own shoes with laces.

He believes that you should always follow the orders of the police, “you” pf course, referring to Black people, alone. He believes that BLM is a terrorist group, yet ignores the very real threat of White Supremacy, when he’s not using their coded buzzwords, that is. He doesn’t support “bad’ cops, and the moment that he actually happens to see one, he’ll prove it. And no, he doesn’t need to watch your video, because it couldn’t possibly be the cop’s fault as to what happened.

He believes that “All Lives Matter”, but doesn’t ever want to talk about the Black ones. Wearing a mask is assign of personal weakness, but being afraid to wear one is personal strength of the highest caliber. He believes that all the media networks that tell him what he doesn’t want to know or hear preach “hate”, but the ones that artificially inflate his flaccid intellect are above reproach. He will “not apologize’ for things nobody asked him to apologize for, but rest assured, he would never condescend to grant the same courtesy to others.

He believes that “Justice wasn’t served” in the trial of Derek Chauvin, because the jurors dared to use their eyes to watch a murder caught on camera, and their ears to listen to the testimony of eyewitnesses and qualified professionals that proved beyond a shadow of doubt that it indeed was. And worse of all, their actions refuse to support his certainty that they should have found the Black guilty of being Black in America, which for our resident Captain Caucasian, is the worst offense of all.

He happily licks so many authoritarian boots, it’s a wonder that he doesn’t leave behind a pair of slip-on loafers every time he uses the bathroom. And when it comes to taking away the military toys and tactics that the police do not require nor deserve, he‘s of the mindset that certainly, it must be a Liberal plot to abolish the police entirely, rather than return them to the origin of their specifically intended charter.

For him, the world entire, presents as a highly infuriating, if not wholly terrifying Dystopia, and for that, I am truly sympathetic to his plight, even if he self-feeds this delusion as if it were Iggy Pop set loose and unchaperoned, in 1970’s Amsterdam. Sadly, I can offer no panacea for Ken’s issues, save for the recommendation that he undertake a personal voyage in educating himself out of his paranoiac inclinations, but we all know he’ll never be able to do that.

Not because he’s unable to, but because he hasn’t truly hit rock-bottom yet. And given his opinions, it’s fairly obvious that his version of rock-bottom still has a sub-basement (or two) underneath it.

“What a sad era when it is easier to smash an atom than a prejudice.” – Albert Einstein

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Motor Mouth. (A Tale of a few Twitties)

“No drug, not even alcohol, causes the fundamental ills of society. If we’re looking for the source of our troubles, we shouldn’t test people for drugs, we should test them for stupidity, ignorance, greed and love of power.” – P.J. O’Rourke

Hello Bitchiteers!

It is yet another gorgeous day out here in the high deserts of New Mexico. The sun is shining, the clouds look like cotton candy lazily hanging in the sky, and the local crows are just sitting around in a murder, contemplating just how their festive gatherings got such a bummer of a moniker. My guess? It’s all due to an envious group of socially-awkward sparrows, who decided to take things into their own wings, and enact their eternal revenge:

Speaking of “revenge”, it’s a topic that keeps popping up more often as of late, due to the fact I’m garnering quite the acidic reputation among the local interweb as being “that guy”, the definition of such, is that I’m an annoying Libtard / SoyBoy / Communist / Satanist / Know-it-all that dares to (GASP!!!) engage in political and cultural debate, while brazenly using irrefutable data to defend my position. I know… it’s most definitively a desperate power-move straight out of the playbook of a Machiavellian bastard, to be sure.

As I’ve previously written in other screeds, the sometimes end result of this apoplectic anger spewed forth by the most cravenly of conservatives, can range from keyboard insults, overly saturated with passive-aggressiveness and slurred between clenched fingers, to outright threats of physical violence, metaphorically deep-fried in the most bitter remnants of testosterone, and powdered with brazenness that can only come from hiding behind their mommy’s keyboard and a fake social media profile.

Entertainingly, while most of these threats come from people who think that they, and more pitifully, their effort, presents to myself, along with the digital world entire, as this:

In actuality however, anyone who reads their impotent insults and views their faux chest-thumping online posts with a functioning adult intellect, generally walks away thinking this:

Adding weight to this universally accepted assessment, is the knowledge that the majority of said “threats” are usually of an intellectual caliber akin to that of a toddler having a meltdown, and therefore, are fairly easy to mock, as I so jovially did here in my rejoinder to this twat of tenacity;Some people might read this declaration that adds credence to Danny’s family alleged adherence to perfecting their inbreeding, and sadly come to the logical conclusion that civility within our grand society is dead, but I know better. It’s more likely hiding in a bedroom closet, as if it were an oversexed teenager in an 80’s slasher movie, trying to make it to the vaunted and far-too-quickly-made sequel. But rest assured, the call IS coming from inside the house, and because a Conservative is the individual tasked with making it, you just know that it’s going to be one that’s collect.

To clarify as I’ve often had to do before, I have no issues with others having an opinion contrary to mine, as long as that opinion is backed up with credible evidence. Proven fact. Statistically sound data. In other words, an intellectual position of strength that doesn’t rely on the inclusion of angels, demons, the Bible, QAnon-derived conspiracy theories, bumper sticker ideology, or a rumor that was read off a website with the word “Patriot” to be found anywhere within its address or descriptive bio.

Especially when I find myself repeatedly dealing with a cravenly cross-section of persons who collectively, think that they possess this level of cunning villainous genius in regards to their ability to successfully debate the issues of the day;

Versus the one that they actually do:

Although when looking at it in retrospect, Megamind’s late-night claim at the Metro Man memorial during a moment of introspective career-inspired grief, that he never fully realized his evil plans regarding Robo-Sheep and the Illiteracy Beam, seems highly suspect now, given how many Americans still support a deposed Fanta Fascist, and the inherent difficulty most seemingly have differentiating between “your” and “you’re”, as well as “there”, “they’re”, and “their”, if I were to float so bold a theory: 
If you’ll allow me the opportunity, I think I’ll have to amend my comparison twixt the two, as in the end, Megamind is actually quite innovative for a blue-skinned alien refugee who’s best and only friend is an overly loyal space-fish wearing a robo-gorilla suit, and assert that the majority of intellectual voids I traverse in my day-to-day dealings are probably more akin to this guy, than anybody else:
Eggsactly right.

In addition, if you were to take into account the last three minutes that unfolded before I started writing that last joke, you’d perfectly understand exactly what I’m talking about here. For as I entered my Kingdom of The Round Table today, located within the Little Toad Creek Brewery and Distilling Company, (AKA: my office away from the office) my inner monologue of future pixelated thoughts to be constructed was interrupted by an obnoxiously uninformed voice from the table next to mine, housed in the physical countenance of what I can only charitably describe as a male free-range lummox.

Bearing a strong resemblance to Spiderman’s editorial nemesis,Jonah Jameson, undergoing undergoing a sandpaper glove colonoscopy, but without the benefit of anesthesia, this oxygen-wasting example of what happens when a Duplo block sheathed in purloined human skin forcibly mates with a dime-store knockoff of a tube of Just for Men, was having a “private” conversation about New Mexico’s newly energized initiative of permanently putting to bed as it were, the oft controversial issue regarding Marijuana legalization within our bucolic state:

And darn if he didn’t have an idea or two about it, factual information concerning the topic, be damned to Heck. I won’t speak for any of you, but I find myself all shades of enthralled when someone who clearly doesn’t what the f**k they’re talking about, feels the need to stand on a stage comprised of their empty personal-use boxes of Viagra and Vaseline, as they regal us, the chosen lucky few, with a stunningly unaware passion play showcasing just what depths of personal ignorance one can achieve.

But there we all were, a wholly uninterested captive audience for a man who had a stick shoved so far up his tight angry white-man ass, we could’ve used him as either a maypole or a cell-phone tower.   

You know. Depending on our needs at that time, and all that.

Normally, I wouldn’t find myself interjecting myself into what was a clearly defined private conversation, but this was so not that. No, this was one of those private conversations that its primary contributor wanted, nay, needed, everyone within earshot of his arrogant idiocy to hear in its entirety, even if all we, meaning me, wanted out of life at that moment, was to have some quiet time alone with our giant pretzel, as we, once again meaning I, rocked out to Audioslave. Is that too much to ask in a town where everybody normally doesn’t inflict themselves upon you?

Apparently it was, so after five of the longest minutes of my life listening to this human analog for a “Just Say No” after-school special, vomit inaccuracies in relation to the subject whose study notes for its test he most certainly cribbed from the 1936 anti-marijuana propaganda  film  “Reefer Madness”, I asked the simplest of questions: “If you don’t mind me asking, what’s the difference between getting behind the wheel altered on weed, versus doing so after a four-beer lunch?”

Two things at that point became perfectly crystalline clear. One, he indeed DID mind, and that, quite a bit, and two: I really should have counted the empty beer glasses that were laid out in front of his now decimated liquid lunch. Coincidentally, or maybe not, because the Universe has a f**ked-up sense of humor, that number just happened to be, you guessed it… four. I’m starting to think that I need to hire a team of advance scouts to survey the conversational landscape before I wander into the chat, even if I am armed to the teeth with actual evidence first,

That’s the beauty of snark-based hindsight. It’s always 20/20. And always far too late to ever be useful in the crucial short-term. Given this unintentional faux pas on my part, he could have responded to my query in a number of ways, the first clearly being a fact-based dissertation as to why he had formed the opinion he had, as we’d all like to think we would in kind, if such an inquiry had been asked of us:

Naturally, rather than take that far more reasonable path of intellectualism, he opted to go with his mid-priced beer and middle-aged paunch, versus using what I can only safely assume at this point, is a pickled cabbage pulling double duty as his brain. After I was nice enough to directly point out that he literally knew nothing about what he was talking about, the main focus of my retort centering on his insistence of inaccurately describing what being “baked” was like.

This, despite the willing admission that not only had he himself had never been high himself, he had also never dealt with anyone who was, either. Nevertheless, when this discrepancy of evidentiary experience was pointed out, he responded with a common vulgarity regarding my observation, because as is often the case for those whose entire vocabulary rhymes with “duck” and variations thereof, answering like a person is quite the mental marathon, even on the best of days… or so I’ve come to surmise.

It would have been fairly easy for me to ignore his crudity outright or even respond to it in kind, and I’m certain that in doing so, I would have been justified, but I’ve found it’s far more entertaining if not personally satisfying, to take the somewhat higher road of snarkiness instead. Note that I said, “somewhat”, as you’re never going to win any meritorious battle by being mistaken for Mr. Rogers incarnate. And while this approach may work for some, it has always been at best, a zero-sum endgame for me.

So, as I proceeded to set up my ever trusty IBM Thinkpad, I ever so kindly thanked him for reminding me exactly why I don’t really miss Phoenix that much, noting that his idiocy and intellectual immaturity was perfectly in line with what my former stomping ground has allowed itself to become. His response?

Well, let’s just say it wasn’t really that much of a retort, as much as it was a confirmation of his inability to think and blink at the same time: “Well, there’s a road out front, if you don’t like what I said, you can always leave, so there you go.”

To which I replied: And you could easily do some research and educate yourself, but sadly, that sort of information usually isn’t published in the form of a pop-up book, so there we are.”

And some of you have the nerve to dare suggest that I’m not a people person? Honestly, I have no indications as to where any of you got that idea. I don’t know how many of you have ever heard the maxim: “If looks could kill”, but at that moment, I don’t believe I’ve ever personally witnessed a better example of it in my life, as his eyes were throwing so many daggers my way, that I felt like I was starring in the reboot of “Who Framed Roger Rabbit”, as directed by Quentin Tarantino:

Fortunately for both of us, glaring was seemingly the only defense against witty quips that he possessed, which given my limited physical ability and the brittleness of that stick shoved sideways up his ass, helped keep the situation from boiling over into what would be classified eventually as middle-aged white guy hip-shattering violence.

In the end, all’s well that ends well, as his two long-suffering friends who were with him, quietly paid their tab, and split the scene, taking their boozy bloviating blowhard with them, much to the delight of myself, and anyone else who had been  privy to his earlier inanity.

As a rule, I generally don’t advocate that people do drugs recreationally, due to the damage I’ve seen them cause in those who have addictive personalities, but when it comes to this guy, not only would I suggest he invest in an ice-bong chock full of some prime Laughing Buddha, I’d go one step further and state outright that some of his spare income go towards purchasing a pair of top-shelf pliers to pull that giant bug out of his ass as well.

Speaking of things that definitively need to be extricated for the benefit of the individual, if not for society itself, ladies and gentlemen, may I present the Silver City DMV, which is referred to by the locals in my town as the place where you seek employment when being a door greeter at Walmart is just too intellectually challenging for you.

This administrative morass, whose motto should be “Gib alle Hoffnung auf, die du hier eintrittst”, or for those who don’t speak German, “Abandon all Hope, ye who enter here”, is literally the perfect embodiment of all that’s incompetent, overly bureaucratic, unprofessional, and dare I say it, wholly antithetical, in regards to how the rest of my small town generally operates.

Located in a nondescript building that from the outside, looks like a gift shop you would go out of your way to avoid at all costs, it currently houses a collection of office workers so woodenly dense, that termites gaze upon them with exactly the same amount of unbridled lust that I as a 14-year-old, used to exhibit every time I saw an Elle McPherson poster,

But seriously… can you blame me?

When I first moved to New Mexico, I had all sorts of new resident minutiae to deal with, ranging from setting up bank accounts, changing my mailing address, and finding new doctors for my ongoing medical care. All the stuff they never told us in High School that we’d get to do as fully functioning adults. And now we know why… because it’s just too much fun to be had by any one person, let me tell you.

Pointless paperwork? Love it! Bloated bureaucracy? Yes, please! The opportunity to engage with secretarial sociopaths? Good mythical God, it’s like Christmas came early, and I got everything on my list. And that includes the Barbie Home Taxidermy Playset. However, I still have to provide my own cat, so I guess there is a downside after all.

Nevertheless, when it comes to scaling the Pinnacle of All That Is Joyous, nothing on this f**ked-up amalgamation of space-dust, oxygen, silicon, aluminum, calcium, sodium, potassium, and magnesium, sitting atop a semi-solid nickel-iron alloy, comes even remotely close to interacting with the seemingly untrained and mismanaged staff at this Malebolge of living Beige, lifted straight out of Dante’s Inferno.

Like most government offices that serve the general public, the interior of this Bayer aspirin tablet turned workplace, which just so happens to be staffed by people with the personality of one, is strictly utilitarian, and boasts the standard compliment of informational posters, bored customers, and the standard compliment of countertop-to-ceiling bullet-resistant Plexiglas.

Before I was forced to spend a considerable amount of my free time as an adult in one of these soul-sucking cesspools, I always assumed that such security measures were set in place due to the sensitive personal information that agencies like this have access to, as well as the residual income they tend to generate as well. That opinion has changed, as I now feel that barrier is in place to protect the employees from the valid consequences they’d face if the customers they continually fail to treat with courteous professionalism, were ever granted the permission to lay their hands on them, albeit for the merest of moments.

To be clear, in no way, shape or form, am I openly suggesting any form of violence against any essentially useless governmental employee, irrespective of how personally satisfying it might be to strap one of these human doorstops into a Gulliver-sized trebuchet and aim at the Sun, but if such actions were indeed legal and morally ethical, I’d most likely be the guy in the parking lot selling the T-shirts and coffee mugs commemorating the blessed event and related holiday.

And where I once defended those at the DMV as being overworked and underappreciated, akin to this charmingly adorable, if somewhat physically leisurely, fellow;

I have to unabashedly admit, and with the same sense of openness, that after dealing with Silver City’s vacuous variant, my current take on those formerly noble working-class heroes is more in line with this particularly harsh, and as I see it, far more accurate assessment:

As to why I currently hold this opinion deep-fried in acidic contempt and powdered with the sweetest of sugared venom, the answer is quite simple; I hate, despise, loathe, resent, abhor, and utterly disdain, personal incompetence. Mix that in with just how much I enjoy being on the receiving end of an arrogant power-trip delivered by a person who will eventually be eaten by all the stray cats that they’ve hoarded over the years, and you’ll have a small glimpse into that which raw-rubs my patience as if it were wearing a barbed-wire codpiece.

It all started simply enough, with what should have been the most unassuming of tasks to accomplish in a place where much like the TV show Cheers, everyone knows your name., or at the very least, your reputation.

The goals for that day, was quite the laid-back ones- do some laundry, wash some dishes, mail some bills, gas up the car, grab lunch at one of the Mexican food joints, and when all that was put to bed, go online and renew my car tags for another two-year span. Easy enough, right? After all, we do live in a wondrous era where technology and access have been seamlessly conjoined in an effort to make all of life’s minor chores that much easier to cross off our to-do lists, where and when we choose.

I would like to take a moment if I may, to point out that it’s this kind of delusional optimism that not only gets this nation’s citizens as a whole, into so much trouble, but also makes some of us truly believe that our signature high school look of a British-flag t-shirt combined with a Members Only windbreaker, is still considered fashionable. And no, it does not matter that we graduated in 1987, as true style is in the heart, not the head.

Speaking of heads and the opinions contained within that are wholly erroneous, when I attempted to renew my registration online, I discovered that it had been suspended, with no prior notice, and more importantly, with no stated explanation as to why it had been put in limbo to begin with. A further concern arose far later, when it was revealed to me via a rude cubicle monkey, that said inactive status had been in play for close to two years, and I had no clue that such an action had even been undertaken.

Typically, when such a snafu as this one occurs, one would either call the DMV, or perhaps take a trip down to their local office to get the situation rectified, but thanks to the COVID-19 pandemic, the method of accessing all things routine has become increasingly problematic, if not infuriating, to the point where public meltdowns both justified and not, have become the norm, rather than the anomaly they once were:

(Your Karen or Kyle’s unfounded and privileged rage may differ. Ask your manager if dealing with over-entitled morons is good for either you, or your business.)
Because of the societal fears associated with COVID, along with the resultant retractions that have arisen from attempts to curtail its spread and impact, one’s interaction with the machinations of government have been relegated to either hit-and-miss online communication, or by setting up appointments that are weeks out in some cases, and the Silver City DMV is not immune from this new and maddening reality. In fact, if anything, they seem to be gleefully fueling the fires of their customers frustration, stoking by their own incompetence, for reasons as yet unknown to us, the common rabble.

This attitude of theirs was on full display, as I tried in vain over the course of two days to find out the details as to what happened, and exactly why I was never notified regarding it. Several phone calls to the only number listed for the DMV, resulted in a sizeable portion of my time going to waste, as said number was always either busy, or when it was not, rang excessively, never to be picked up.

And as far as this so-called customer service line having an option to leave a message in any form, as a means to eventually correct your issue at hand?

All kidding aside, I point out yet again, that it’s this kind of delusional optimism that gets this nation’s citizens into so much trouble, especially when they pair it with the ludicrous thought that customer service means you actually serve the customer. As if that concept still existed, since the implementation of the T-Mobile corporation call-center model.

By the way, did I happen to mention that despite every other business in my town (save for banks) being open to the public, albeit with enforced mask and social distance restrictions in place, the DMV’s lobby is locked up tighter than the underground vault where the watchable versions of the Highlander 2 and Star Wars prequel shooting scripts are stored?

So to recap, no online option to fix issues like mine, no ability to contact an actual human using the phone to do so as well, and no publicly accessible point person at their only location to talk to, despite their staff of blathering baboons being encased behind several layers of we-aint-willingly-getting-in-your-trebuchet-anytime-soon Plexi, all while being permitted to operate fully half-assed, where a mask mandate is still in full effect.

I have to tell you, next to the merged corporate nightmare that was formerly Sprint, I’ve never met a bunch of people more dedicated to not taking my money than these New Mexican morons. The late Minnesota politician and poet Eugene McCarthy, once blithely noted that; “The only thing that saves us from the bureaucracy is its inefficiency”, and man… was he ever spot-on regarding this certainty, or what?

None of these hurdles were going to stop me of course, from getting to the bottom of things, thanks to both my personal tenacity and anger management issues, so I piled into “Rita”, my adorably red Honda daily driver, and headed on down to Silver’s very own version of *TON 618, to kick some ass, steal some pens, take some names, and then… promptly forget them.*[TON 618 is a hyper-luminous and radio-loud quasar, possessing one of the most immense black holes found thus far, unless of course, you put it up against the Silver City DMV.]

Ignoring the “closed” signs in the main lobby window, I gazed in, and saw no less than three employees, just standing around behind their Plexi Playfort, displaying the kind of hustle I’ve only observed in retirees playing cribbage while asleep. So, I tapped on the lobby glass, hoping to get their attention, which they playfully refused to give, because at heart, these pencil-pushing pinheads are all about living in the moment. Not the one that’s actually required of course, just so we’re all clear.

You, as an actual person, might tend to think that after almost 30 seconds of hearing rhythmic tapping, that one of these hired-out-of-charity palookas would, at some definable point in time, acknowledge my presence, but that’s only because your brain is continually connected to your senses, and which obviously, have more than two brain cells dedicated to their utilization.

But to the devoted go the spoils, and eventually, after close to five minutes of my massaging the glass with a full complement of silver rings, a thought cut through the mental miasma of one of these human sweet-potato malingerers, that maybe, just maybe, she should get off her ass and inquire as to what the discount James Hetfield cosplayer in front of her workplace needed.

Now to be fair, while this was my overall attitude;
This was most definitely the vibe she was transmitting, from the second she opened the door, a clipboard death-clutched in her hands, glaring at me as if I had interrupted her, while she was in the middle of orally servicing a 2-liter bottle of lukewarm pickle brine:

And to set the tone, she did so while not wearing a mask, as she was literally, face to face with me. That’s right-the DMV’s point person dealing directly with the public, and that in very close proximity, within a town that still has a compulsory inside/outside mandate for all businesses, couldn’t be bothered to wear a mask, because… well, I’m sure she had a good reason as to why there wasn’t one around her neck, or in her hands.

Yep, gotta love an agency that shuts down its physical operation to allegedly protect its staff, but has zero issue about one of its own being in a position to possibly infect the general public at large. Additional kudos must be granted to this walking morass of mental midgetry, for giving me such an uninterrupted look at her face, because it allowed me to correctly identify her for the formal complaint I’m currently in the middle of filing with the state.

I won’t reveal her name here for legalities, rather than ethical concerns, but rest assured, everyone who lives in the boundaries of Silver City knows who she is, and for the reason mentioned in the meme above.alone

In my somewhat limited defense for what is about to be said, I try not to use what I personally consider sexist or vulgar terminology, even if the word “bitch” is key in the digital letterhead of these screeds, as I find such to be lazy at best, crude at worst. Exceptions are certainly made to be sure, typically to either cement an idea I’m trying to express, or punch up a joke, but in my day-to-day life, I try to work without stepping far too commonly into the realm of the “blue”, as it were.

However, when I run into someone who makes me immediately think that their collection of sex-toys purposefully short-circuit their own batteries in an act of desperate self-protection from a set of genitalia that most definitely has teeth in lieu of labia, I have no such compulsion to seek the high road… at all. Granted, this depiction may come off as being somewhat over the top, but I’d also put forth my belief that you could pour boiling lava down this woman’s throat, and she’d eventually start belching obsidian as an end result.

But let’s get to the real fun to be had, shall we? After taking a few minutes to inform Mistress Bitchypants why I was there, noting all of my previous failed attempts to make contact with a person that could actually do something, she retreats back into her Fortress of Sullentude, locking the door behind her as she does, because apparently, she took my above joking threat of stealing their pens seriously.  

As if would want knockoff generic Bics?

When she emerges, she snottily tells me that my registration was pulled due to a lapse in my insurance, which was only not true, but was also the second time that they had made the same error, and that, immediately within the initial month and a half after I had originally registered the car. In other words, it was their mistake. AGAIN. Meaning, that if I had been pulled over by the cops for even the most minor of reasons, I would have been subject to tickets, and depending on New Mexico law, possibly arrested or been at risk of my vehicle being seized, but … oops, I guess?

However, even though it was obviously their f**kup, it was up to me (naturally) to prove that they were wrong. Because, f**k me, that’s why. Therefore, I had to go see my insurance agent, who through gritted teeth, lets me in on the fact that this is such a common occurrence regarding this particular branch of the DMV, that they can literally set their office clocks by the consistency of their screwups.  

Speaking of which, I had to spend almost an hour getting the proof I needed to show that at no time, was I ever lapsed, or even late, and headed back to the place where professional competence seemingly goes to get curb-stomped to death by a pale of mentally corpulent turtles, as a matter of policy. When I find myself back at the Lair of Ineptitude, not only am I greeted by the same lovely individual I dealt with earlier, but this time around, there’s the joy of being harangued about my “rudeness” in relation to my jubilantly pointing out (with proof, remember) that they were the ones who couldn’t find their own asses without the aid of Google maps and a tour guide.

And when this was expounded upon, as is the way of my people, this cubicle cow wouldn’t even offer the weakest of apologies for their/her collective incompetence, because once again- f**k you, that’s why. Society, for whatever reason, be it valid or unsubstantiated, long ago credited women such as these with an utterly crass and unrefined slur, and yet, I am loath to utilize it within these pixelated points of discussion, but not for the reason you might think.

The direct explanation is that while the “C” word might be applicable on one level in regards to the descriptive of her personality and sense of professionalism, this woman lacks the depth, the warmth, and the desired practicality of use to meet the basic qualification of that which defines what one of those actually is.
As I stood there, waiting for an apology that never came, she attempts to blame my insurance company, claiming that they themselves, had called the state MVD, telling them that my insurance had lapsed, which was blasphemously false. But hey, when you’re an incompetent liar who’s been caught red-faced, just double down, and stick to your story, which you so transparently, fabricated out of hot air and bulls**t. .

Continue to do so, even if the person you f**ked over has empirical proof to the contrary. Because that always works.

Let me dissect what she in essence, failed to pass off as the Truth- my insurance company whom has never cancelled me at any point, called the DMV, told them I had no insurance, and in reaction, the DMV cancelled my car’s registration. An act of bureaucratic blundering, that for some as yet unknown reason, did not require the DMV to inform me of this at all. And yet despite this, my insurance company continuously sent me a monthly bill for a service they supposedly canceled, for a car that legally, did not exist.

Oh yes. Totally normal, if not entirely credible. Just make sure to completely ignore the previous statement from many in my small community about this very same issue being a shared problem regarding this agency. Obviously, all those pi**ed-off peasants should go pound sand. But there was more garbage to be spewed, courtesy of our Dominatrix of Density.

The second slice of power-trip pie that she served up, after faking offense at being called a liar to her vinegar-secreting face, involved a guy with a DUI conviction who was there attempting to acquire a legal ID card. Not a driver’s license. Nor was he endeavoring to get his auto registration reinstated, like I was. How did I know he had been prosecuted for a DUI, and that’s why his registration and license were revoked?

Well, it turns out that despite my initial assessment of Mistress Bitchypants as nothing more than an arrogantly incompetent cubicle cow, she also apparently has undertaken a sideline gig as my town’s unofficial PA system, dispensing people’s sensitive personal information to the wind as if her life depended on it. It didn’t, but maybe her fatuous Ego required it.

Who knows? However, thanks to her blatant indiscretion, I did now know a few things in regards to the person who up until a minute and a half prior, had blissfully, been an utter stranger, so there is that. For sake of clarification, I must admit his skull and neck tattoos, along with the obvious prison ink cascading down his arms, clued me in somewhat already that perhaps I was in the presence of possible rough trade, but that still doesn’t mean that the guy deserved to be treated as if he were less than human, by a pod-person who barely passes as one.

Trust me on this. When you see someone with dragons emblazoned on their shaved skull;

… ask some questions. You’ll be glad you did. Admit it- you’ve got a list of inquiries to make here, and you know it won’t be all shades of boring at the end., no matter what direction the tale may eventually turn out to take. At no point whatsoever, did this MVD mascot for morons, even think to ask or suggest, that either he come inside the fortified office to talk about his delicate and embarrassing situation, nor did she bother to lower her volume as she blathered his privileged information within my proximal presence.

Because you know, I was the one being ever so “rude”.

One down, two more to go. People, that is. As I mentioned earlier, my local DMV is only seeing people in the flesh on the basis of a pre-arranged appointment, which can only be set up via the Internet, as they can’t be bothered to pick up their phone. I’m not entirely sure what the elderly, the non-tech savvy, and those who don’t have web access are supposed to do, but I’m sure that the DMV has a resolution for that, given their stellar track record for efficiency thus far.

Taking that productivity into account, I’m also 100% certain that in no way, shape or form, that their measured and sedate resolution to these issues would ever dare be presented to the general public at large as this:
Nope. Can’t see them taking that approach at all. But then again, I still believe that one day, I’ll get to see a re-formed ABBA launch a world tour and a new album within my lifetime, so maybe I’m not exactly the best authority to ask about logical outcomes to solving what are essentially simple problems to begin with. Just saying.

Seriously, Universe? MAKE THIS HAPPEN:

Even if it’s for no other reason to satisfy my morbid curiosity regarding the latest advances in Kimono-based Rock-stage fashion. Which, when given the expansive range of technology and fabrics now available, is going to finally make this mid-70’s Dexedrine dream;
look as if they weren’t even trying to do anything but blend in with Elvis’s wallpaper.Getting back on track, I did note that appointments scheduled online are the only way to establish any form of face-to-face contact with a DMV drone, and as such, you’d think that since they themselves weren’t technically involved in that process, it’d be somewhat foolproof, if not aggravation free. At the very least, you might even optimistically assume that even they couldn’t f**k that up, am I right?

I’m not going to lie here… sometimes your positivity is absolutely adorable. Unfounded, ungrounded, unsubstantiated, and wholly speculative to be sire, but adorable, nonetheless.

it pains me to say this, but yes, despite the best efforts of Microsoft, Comcast, and the evil machinations of the downloaded soul of the late Stephen Hawking, they managed to gang-bang the metaphorical platypus on this one too. I have to hand it to these guys- it’s one thing to suck at your job in the world of the Real, but to be equally inept within the parameters of a world that exists only as electrical ether? Even I will have to begrudgingly admit, that’s some goddamn serious dedication to the craft of dumbf**ery.

What pray tell, am I referencing? As I waited the ten minutes it took to update my file, because apparently, the internet was running at *MVD speed that day, I witnessed no less than two people who were turned away, despite having scheduled appointments that day, and who concurrently, arrived with proof of such in hand. Not that the Clipboard Commandant gave a rat’s ass. *[This is similar to “Warp Speed” as described in the seminal 60’s TV show “Star Trek”, but involves standing around doing nothing, as one sits on their fat ass, endlessly repeating the following phrases: “I wish I could help.” “I understand.” And the classic “You’ll have to go online and…”]

In both cases, Mistress Mistake (without looking at her clipboard) churlishly announced that she had no record of either obligation, and therefore, they would have to go back online, and you guessed it… schedule yet another appointment. You know. Because the initial one worked out so well? Never mind the fact that they BOTH HAD PROOF of such, and in the case of one of these poor saps who was forced to take a half-day off work to honor his end of said responsibility, and because this Bitch of the West likes to remain on brand, no apology for the alleged snafu was to be had either.

I’ll give this secretarial slattern one thing. She is consistent, to say the very least.

See? I can give hard-earned credit when and where it’s due, even if that credit is for being the type of human being that most people want to see get eaten slowly by a shark. Or a prickle of flatulent porcupines. Either/or. I’m really not that picky when it comes to the metering out of overdue Justice anymore, so I’m pretty sure I’d be happy, no matter which way the metaphorical axe eventually falls::

But if I were forced to make a choice ala’ Hobson, I’d most likely lean in this direction, as the other path, while truly comically epic and visually fascinating, would take far too long to fit within my ever-increasing personal schedule. I do have a life to lead Bitchiteers, even if I would enjoy sitting ringside with a tall glass of cold milk and a platter of chilled Ding -Dongs.

Sometimes? Your career just has to come first. I do find however, that opinion to be somewhat off-base though, in relation to the walking “C” word currently inflicting herself upon the people of my fine town, leaving a snail-trail of aggravation and frustration in her wake, as she does so at this particular moment in time. In all honesty, she’s not wholly responsible for all the issues that are presently plaguing this poorly run bastion of bastardly incompetence, but she seems to be the one most alluded to when the topic arises, as it has most recently.

At best, she’s just the Face of the bureaucratic beast, because as the mythical God already knows, there’s no way in Hell, that she’s never going to be mistaken for the f**king Brains.

“An incompetent person in a responsible position may cause huge damage. Such a person should act less and think more.” – Eraldo Banovac

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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In the Nick of Slime (Writes off The Round Table)

“Apart from values and ethics which I have tried to live by, the legacy I would like to leave behind is a very simple one – that I have always stood up for what I consider to be the right thing, and I have tried to be as fair and equitable as I could be.”- Ratan Tata

Hello Bitchiteers!

It is simply a lovely day out here in my hamlet of Silver City, New Mexico. The suns is shining, the clouds are puffy, and the sky can only be described as a *atemberaubend shade of azure blue. It’s almost as if the mythical god skinned a Smurf for inspiration in order to create the heavens. Not to mention that at the moment, the sound system at my office away from the office, also known as Little Toad Creek Brewery and Distillery, is cranking “She Sells Sanctuary” by the Cult. At a volume that can only be noted as: “Is that loud enough for you, Mptherf**ker?” “[Stunning” in German]

Why yes. Yes, it is. And it is awesome. I’m in one of my favorite happy places, surrounded by waitresses who all look like Wonder Woman with her hair combed out, sitting at my kingdom of the round as I write this, and I swear, if I die tomorrow, I want this six-top table to be buried with me, as I can’t think of anywhere else on this planet that I’ve ever been this productive, and I see no reason to change that, even if I do wind up roasting for all eternity just outside the gilded doors leading to Hades’ hallway.

Just keep the ice-cold Coca-Cola flowing like water, and it’ll be all good:

Partner that with this giant verboten pretzel I’m currently devouring, in place of a Diabetic-safe lunch, and you’ll see why I’m currently content as a as if I were a pack of piranha on vacation in the wading pool of a Florida retirement home.

Seriously. Just look at the size of this thing. Odin himself would trade his other eye in a heartbeat to get his oversized Nordic mitts on one of these, and even better? The cheese sauce it comes with, is green-chile-infused. Does Life get any better?
Granted, I’m sure it could, but last time I checked, Milla Jovovich is not returning any of my phone calls, and is still happily married to a man who’s overall health remains annoyingly excellent. However, the aforementioned pretzel does come with a side of jalapeno-infused cheese sauce, so that’s almost as good… almost.

But as a counterbalance, Milla does have far less carbohydrates, and to a diabetic like myself, dietary considerations are key to one’s ongoing personal happiness, so there is that. Plus, my GF of 12 years Ashley, would remind me that my odds of adding a sexy Ukrainian to my collection without her smothering me in my sleep because of my doing so, are just as good as my chances of being cast as a lead in a Star Wars movie, which is actually item number three on my bucket list. I just want to fly the Millennium Falcon once, kick a Jedi’s ass in a light-saber battle, and it’ll be all good.

And no, I’m not kidding.

Either make me a Sith in a galaxy far far away, or as a character in a PIXAR cartoon. I’m thinking a jar of sassy Sauerkraut that’s obsessed with being best friends with Buzz Lightyear, and the circle of my true personal happiness will finally be complete.

However, I’m not here to list my overpopulated list of singular obsessions, I’m here to inform, and maybe spread some unintentional entertainment as I do so. It’s literally my goal to hit the metaphorical mark every time I open up my trusty IBM ThinkPad, and with no false braggadocio to note, I think I come pretty close most of the time. Give or take the occasional structureless rant, that is. Everybody has the occasional “off” day, and even I, the Snark Supreme, am not immune to this.

Nevertheless, my sense of current mojo disassociation may have more to do with what I’ve been writing about, rather than just a quirk of personal circumstance. Keep in mind, other than a fun diversion writing about Seth Mc Farlane’s “The Orville”, which just so happens to be one of my favorite sci-fi TV shows as of late, I’ve been digitally scribbling screeds highlighting quite the range of allegedly mentally-deficient characters within my local and surrounding community, and they’re truly “special” people, let me tell you.

So far, I’ve called possibly unwelcome attention to a literal Ken doll who openly suffers from an exceedingly bad case of bigotry and an inability to research competently, a conspiracy theory believing wackadoo, who allegedly, sees members of Antifa every time she looks in her underwear drawer, and a sedition-supporting cowboy politician, who sees racism and ignorance as personal strengths, rather than an as of yet, undiagnosed mental illness.

And let’s not forget the latest failed MENSA candidates, one being a vulgar anti-Biden flag hoisting bragging brotard, who waxed poetic about being gifted a free case of beer for being an ill-informed jackass, from a fellow conservative cretin, much in the same way I’d crow about talking Angeline Jolie into modeling a whipped-cream and Ding-Dong bikini for me. I’ll be adding in some additional commentary regarding this flag-fellating fu**wit a little further on in today’s screed, but I need to address the second Beta-bitch on board first.

This end result from the tragic misuse of a gas-station condom, is a wannabe Alpha who posted a physical threat that while originally directed at me, was also one that I could hardly find intimidating. since its fundamental high points had been lifted wholesale from the classic novel, “The Most Dangerous Game”. Regardless, I still went ahead and contacted the appropriate agencies who are tasked to deal with such pathetic creatures of cowardice, not so much out of concern for myself, but because said mental midget decided he had to threaten the general public as well.

Honestly, if there’s ever a place in the allegorical sand where I draw the line, it’s when somebody thinks they have the right to do so, consequence-free. And because I’m all about the details, I made sure that his current employer was informed of his hobby as well, seeing how he like to issue such threats, while acknowledging them as his current employer on his FB page. This by the way, did not seem to bring them any sense of quantifiable joy, and the professionally terse email I received back in reply to mine, did nothing but underscore this opinion of mine.

Granted, I could be wrong, but as a rule, corporations, even the smallest ones, generally don’t appreciate it when someone repping their brand decides to openly threaten total strangers as they do so. Especially, when they’re smack dab in the middle of a territory and marketing expansion campaign, as this one currently is.

Now, when it comes to extending past the boundaries of their already exceedingly limited intellects, the particularly f**ked up belief that they’re beyond the reach of reproach, I have a message for those special few,, who. despite lacking actual testicles, still dry-hump their keyboards with a passion they’ve yet to apply to the act of becoming smarter, and it is this- if you think you can keep up this inane campaign of anonymous adversarial animosity uncontested;

This memorandum isn’t that much of a revelation to those among us whose brains actually function the way Odin meant them to, but for more than a challenged few slithering among us, they’ve perverted the concept of Free Speech into a bastardized rationalization that they can do or say anything that they want, as they petulantly demand that they somehow be granted exemption from the predictably immediate fallout they themselves provoked.

For those of you who unlike me, do not carry a well-worn copy of the Constitution on you, so that you may refer to what’s within it accurately, I present the 1st Amendment in its entirety: “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof; or abridging the freedom of speech, or of the press; or the right of the people peaceably to assemble, and to petition the government for a redress of grievances.” And please note; that nowhere in this brief, yet highly crucial passage that underpins the true heart of what America represents to the world, does it say anything about the boundaries of said free speech being limitless.

This is why you can call QAnon advocates “f**king morons”, but conversely, aren’t allowed to then go and openly suggest that you’re going to show up at their trailer, and feed their diminutive genitals to the raccoons that they keep around to guard their meth lab.

It’s also the same reason why you don’t get into debates regarding which city has the best pizza, that being either Chicago or New York, because in both cities, it could be accurately designated as hate speech, if not riot incitement, for not only is the answer fairly obvious, but those bastards in Chicago are also such philistines, that they unashamedly, sell their sub-standard ketchup-covered cardboard by the slice.

By.The. Motherf**king. Slice.

Dear mythical God, we’re living in the End Times. And I, seriously can’t believe that for all his grandiose predictions, Nostradamus never mentioned this as one of the portents.

But the message of the Amendment is as clear as the GQP’s failing to see the irony in regards to its own hypocrisy. You can say whatever you want, within reason of course, and in no way, shape, or form, can the government legally censor you, but that does not mean you get a metaphorical hall pass from them or society at large, when you step over the obvious borderlines. Rant about “The Jews”, get punched out of your shoes. Call the Mexican community “lazy slobs”, get fired, and watch one take your job. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes, and all that.

From my perch of perspective, it seems that every single time I think one of these patriots of pestilence can’t possibly shove their heads up their own asses any further, they go and manage to grow another foot and a half of neck. Case in point? Let’s take a gander at this fine example of what happens when the Creator throws the genetic dice, and discovers to his dismay, that not only did he fail to roll a seven, he also wasted a perfectly good batch of skin and useful organs on a defective unit that somehow still, managed to get shipped out the factory doors, sans its brain:

This obviously not-in-need-of-medication-at-all individual, one Yvonne St Cyr of the intellectual powerhouse that is Boise, Idaho, is now facing manifold federal charges for her alleged participation in the January 6th domestic terrorist attack that occurred at the U.S. Capitol. Within the official affidavit describing the levied charges, it is noted that prior to her attempt at sedition, St Cyr had been quite the busy beaver, posting a series of (GASP!) wholly unsubstantiated QAnon conspiracy theories.

However, she decided to outdo herself, and in a selfless act one can only assume was  charitably enacted  to make it easier for her abominable actions to be successfully prosecuted later on down the road, decided to videotape herself inside the Capitol building, on the day of the attack.

Adding further evidential cordwood to the eventual prosecutorial fire, she in conjunction with her equally intellectually impenetrable husband, then inexplicably uploaded a personal video to Facebook the day after, in which she waxed poetic about how she “made CNN” when she was caught leaning out a window, allegedly yelling to all in reach of her voice; “This is our house!” 

Not content setting the bar of personal inanity at that particular level, she went on to elucidate that: “God put me in that window, so I’m assuming God put me on CNN screaming like a mad woman,” So hey, maybe I’m going to get arrested again, but I would get arrested and I would die for this country. So no regrets.”

While that pile of lunacy is bad enough on its own, keep in mind that until her hopeful conviction and long-term incarceration is set in stone, this dimwitted disciple of delusional dipsh**tery can still legally drive a car, handle sharp stabby things, buy a gun, and most terrifyingly of all, VOTE. And that right to do so, covers both state and federal elections, as well as American Idol. In regards to which one of those outcomes may be worse in the long run for America, I think that at best, it may work out to be a draw.

Sure, the awful ramifications of what may happen if any of these Q-nuts get their chosen candidates into any level of government is terrifying, but let’s also be as equally honest with ourselves as to what the resulting fallout might be of giving a wannabe Keith Beukelaer, unfettered access to a national spotlight, and an audience of idiots.
Do you want the Apocalypse to happen?
Because that’s how you get the Apocalypse to happen.

What doesn’t trigger my insomnia however, is the fact that eventually most of the mental midgets we’re currently infested with, will either find a new obsession in time, or gravely injure themselves, when they try to make a grilled cheese sandwich while holding said sandwich in their mouths. Either/or. I’m truly good no matter which way the Winds of Fate blow. Now, this is not to say that we as a nation and citizenry, can afford to turn a blind eye to these pustular pinheads, as it’s fairly obvious they’re just waiting for the right opportunity to regroup and finish what they started four years ago- the complete and utter destabilization of America as it currently exists.

It’s pretty much a certainty that when you find yourself crossing paths with these Fallopian tube rejects, you’re pretty much going to walk away from the conversation knowing two things; the first being that you’re going to fight from now on to do whatever you can to increase funding public education, and the second, that you most likely should get checked out ASAP, to see if you’re developing an aneurysm, because your brain can only do so much to protect itself from the exposure to such abject ignorance.

Sadly, over the years, there has been an unchecked increase in the number of persons possessing lesser intellectual capacity taking inordinate pride in being cursed with such, and this, is a quirk of personality that I will truly never understand. I can appreciate having a sense of self-deprecating humor in regards to one’s lack of personal knowledge, but the willful displaying of conceit in relation to the same, has always stunned me into silence.

The noted sci-fi author Issac Asimov had the perfect summation in respect to this cultural phenomenon, and even though I’ve dropped it into the occasional screed of mine over the years, I feel it bears repeating yet again: There is a cult of ignorance in the United States, and there has always been. The strain of anti-intellectualism has been a constant thread winding its way through our political and cultural life, nurtured by the false notion that democracy means that ‘my ignorance is just as good as your knowledge.”

Truer words have never been spoken, save for the time I once told my adulterous ex-fiancé that the only reason she wanted to “pray for me” was because it gave her yet another chance to get down on her knees, but I digress in the name of chivalry and civility. But this wryly accurate observation does serve as a lead-in introduction for the main subject of today’s pixelated scribbles, that being the flag-hoisting Beta-bitch I referenced at the beginn9ng of these musings.  

If you’ve read my precious screed, you’ll remember that I devoted some limited acreage to this example of the slowest sperm winning the lottery, although the main focus of my tale was centered on dealing with a death threat that I had received from another craven, cut from the same ilk-cloth, and at the time, he served no other purpose than as a background element in a far more expansive story.

In lieu of a better analogy, if my life was being rebooted as a Star Wars movie, he would’ve been credited as “Impotent Jawa Hidden behind Obi-Wan”, in that one scene where Luke is selling his landspeeder to an alien of possibly dubious character.
In essence, another warm body filling a space- no more, no less. But as it is with most things, the goalposts can still be picked up and moved forward, or in this case, backwards a good ten yards. To be fair, I wasn’t expecting the focus of my current sardonic mocking, one Nick Lemme, to be overly intelligent, given his pathetic penchant for hypocritical whining and immature posturing, but I also didn’t assume that when it got right down to the brass tacks, that engaging in a debate regarding his political stance would be akin to doing so with a bag of gently-used urinal cakes, either.

Live and learn, I guess.

To recap previous events, Lemme decided to publicly display a flag in the front yard of his home, that indecorously expressed his disdain for our current president, Joe Biden, and then in an act of sheer hubris, made the concurrent choice to grant an in-depth interview with our local newspaper about it, as well. Now this, in and of itself, would normally not be that big of a deal, but as is typical of those in the Cult of 45, Lemme determined that he couldn’t simply express his discontentment in a manner that would lend itself to fostering a respectful dialogue, because why should anyone do that, when they could have the opportunity to be just be as classless as the Fanta Fascist that they get the hot sweats over?

And in case you forgot what sheer inanity can present itself as, here you go:
Oh, and in case I’ve forgotten to mention it, this fine display of what it looks like when a middle-aged moron has a mental meltdown, is right across the street from a school, as well. Because if there’s one lesson that you want to instill in the developing youth of this country, is that it’s perfectly acceptable to be a vulgar cretin well past the point when your genitalia have supposedly dropped. To add even more hypocrisy to an already fuel soaked pyre of it, Lemme has also opined that he now feels like he has a “target on his head” due to his actions, even though he’s the one who super glued it there in the first place.

This slice of duplicity aside, I’d have to personally note that for a guy who’s so ostensibly worried for his personal safety, Lemme seems to be willingly pushing the red button of public confrontation as hard and as fast as his undeveloped brain will let him.

 Make no mistake- Lemme is openly spoiling for a fight, and mythical God willing, one will eventually be delivered to him, if for no other reason than for him to finally grasp the pertinent life lesson of “Be careful what you wish for”, because sometimes those wishes come with a full set of teeth, both metaphorical and literal. To clarify, I’m not suggesting that Lemme should suffer anything more than the considerable mocking contempt that he’s truly earned, but I’d also ascertain that if his front yard became a sculptural exercise in the creative application of toilet paper, I wouldn’t lose too much sleep over it, either.

Let me stress this point again, if I may. At no point in time, should Lemme be subject to anything dire. save for the shunning scorn that he so richly desires and to a point, has earned. Now having said that, I have serious reservations as to the manner of how Lemme would respond if the metaphorical tables were reversed, given how he presents himself online.

What do I mean by this?

Well, it’s been my personal experience that if you’re traipsing through somebody’s social media profile, and see a background photo like this;
It’s pretty much a certainty that while the person you are now unfortunately dealing with can quote the 2nd Amendment from memory verbatim, minus the “well regulated” clause of course, they also conversely, have never bothered to read the rest of this sacred text, tending as they do to view knowledge with the same sense of suspicion that I’d grant to gas station sushi. Throw in the not-to-be-unexpected conspiracy theories, the standard proliferation of willful ignorance, and devotion to fetishistic gun porn, and you have quite possibly the most accurate microcosm of what passes as ”independent thought” within the modern-day Conservative movement.

Not too shockingly, Lemme’s social media presence hits most of these stereotypical low points, but the one thing that stands out above anything else, is that Lemme is a truly certified American BADASS. If Jason Statham and Chuck Norris ever managed to have an illicit love affair, and produce a spawn dipped in double-plated mother**ker, Lemme would definitely fit the bill, let me tell you. How do I know this for sure? Well, my newest scratching post was considerate enough to selflessly post this photo, lo inform us all that he is indeed;

Maybe it’s the brotard sunglasses, Maybe it’s the determined attitude. Maybe it’s the composition of the self-taken photo, cleverly using the car’s window as both a crucial framing point and lighting element. Given the fact that it’s presented in black & white, maybe it’s a modern take on the film noir genre, but this snapshot most definitely doesn’t scream “I wanna be an Alpha so bad it hurts!”

And what truly sells this image in my opinion, is the late 80’s style lettering associated with every WrestleMania event I’ve ever seen televised. I am totally convinced on the basis of this photo alone, that Lemme is truly “savage”, because if there’s one trait that authentic badasses are known for, it’s the need to consistently advertise just how bad they are, am I right?

Personally, I’ve always felt that if you feel the need to post indulgent selfies as a means to convey who you really are, they should, at the very least, be visually interesting to begin with, as this humble example below establishes:

Photo credit: (C) Martiin Hazine/Glossyworks

This boys and girls, is how you take your selfie game to the next level, because if we’re going to be honest with ourselves here, the fist thing we’d have to admit is just how much we all like pictures of verdant forests. Especially when there’s such a ruggedly good-looking man in the foreground. However, there is yet another area where Lemme fails to bring his “A” game, and that is within the parameters of what passes for civilized debate in this, the era of idiocy made flesh.

Like most Trump devotees, Lemme employs the standard go-to for those of lesser intelligence and character who, when they cannot back up their point of view with actual facts, resort to issuing asinine slurs and impotent threats. Take for instance, this intellectual discourse between Lemme and I, where he informs me that he’s also “fighting” for my freedom of speech, which strikes me as odd, since nobody of note is actually trying to take mine away at the moment.
But then again, I could be wrong, as I haven’t checked the Internet today to see what I’m supposed to be worried about.

What little Nicky here fails to understand, is that I neither require his uninformed ass to protect my 1st Amendment rights, nor did i ask him to do so in the first place. And considering he has a symbol of the Confederacy (by his own admission) flying above his flag of fallaciousness, I can’t really put him in the same pantheon as *Nathanael Greene anytime soon.
*[Greene was a Continental Army general who served with distinction during America’s Revolutionary War. He was lauded far and wide as George Washington’s most dependable officer.]

And as an aside, I know its tempting to spell the words “you” and “are” as if you were Prince, but as a muddle-aged White guy, you really aren’t going to get cut the same slack he would get. Just saying. And Nick? Nobody is “coming” for your suburban property, and they’re definitely not coming for your family, either. That is, unless they’re trying to save them from having to listen to your asinine absurdity over dinner.

But not to worry, when Nick later reengaged with me, he proceeded to present what one would consider a well-thought-out structured debate, not only defending his political ideology, but also going one step further, and backing it up with empirical data in such a manner that even I, an uncompromising cynic, was impressed at how well he illuminated the underpinnings of his point of view:

C’mon now… admit it. You didn’t seriously think or worse, believe, that a Trumpite would actually bring a valid argument to the proverbial table that could be defended successfully using the tenets of reality, did you? Keep in mind, these jingoistic jackasses are still proudly hoisting the banners of a soundly and fairly,defeated candidate, and claiming that any day now, that very same mound of disgraced human flotsam will be reasserting his role as President without question, regardless of what common sense, established law, reality, and Yoda says: 
To nobody’s great surprise, save those who’ve never had to deal with one of these walking mental illnesses disguised within a human skin suit. No, when Nicky jumped back in to the fray on a thread where I pointed out that all Trump wanted from Nick was his money, he responded with this devastatingly stunning retort, drawn from the spirit of Robespierre himself:
I’d like to point out two things that don’t make sense here, if I may. First. For a guy who crows about how “savage” he is, Nicky is seemingly easily offended, as if he were the possessor of skin thinner than that of an onion, and the second? It was noted in his now infamously tone-deaf newspaper interview, that:

“Lemme said that he does feel like the flag has placed a metaphorical target on his back, however, which is why he flies the flag underneath a darkened American flag. He said the blacked-out American flag was used by some Confederate military units during the Civil War as a symbol to not give nor accept quarter — a juxtaposition to the white in the real American flag.

 “A lot of military people wear it,” Lemme said. It’s just basically stating no mercy if they want to do something and target me – that’s basically a warning.”

Oh no, a “warning”. That’s so… SAVAGE. Especially coming from a person whose thought process came to the brulliant conclusion that utilizing a symbol of a treasonous entity that tried to usurp the legitimacy of the United States, was the perfect vehicle for launching an in-depth discussion regarding constitutionally protected freedoms. And as to his claim that he feels a target has been placed on his head, there’s no better way to cool the overall situation down like openly posting an overly-aggressive retort like the one above to a total stranger, especially when you have no idea who that person is to begin with, or how they’re going to react to your challenge 0f “come at me, bro”, am I right?

Methinks that thou ignoble fathead doth protest too much, for if Nick was truly worried about his or his family’s safety, he’d have closed off public access to his social media accounts, gone to ground as it were, and in hindsight, not have called the unwanted (if warranted) attention to himself, by giving the ill-advised media interview that he did in the first place.

And as an aside, I sure as heck wouldn’t have, given the volatile nature of the political landscape these days, made the decision to add fuel to the ever-growing fire, by continuing to engage in heated debates with said strangers, nor would I have sent photos of myself like this to those same unfamiliar persons, as a rule of dumb:

Granted, that’s mostly due to the possibility that on a whim, they could turn out to be theoretically violent, but also because it would validate without question, just how juvenile I am as well, given my advanced age. Not to mention, it would clearly show my face, and that’s an action that if I were truly concerned for my ongoing sense pf personal security as Nick claims he is, I would avoid doing at all costs.

So in essence, what we’re all observing here is a theoretical exercise in quantum mechanics, first exemplified by the paradox of placing a hypothetical cat inside a box, and who may be considered simultaneously both alive and dead, due to the inclusion of a poisonous variable that may or may not affect the outcome. The twist here however, is that we have an ignorantly hostile firebrand who is conversely, both hoping for a confrontation, and running away from one that he himself, started.  

Schrodinger’s Jackass, as it were.

And as is the way of most spineless schmucks who pick a fight, who then get called out for their fraudulent claims that they’re the ones who were being unfairly persecuted for their ideology, that void of personal courage possessed by those who as we’ve seen thus far, lack metaphorical penii, gets filled in the only way they know how- by throwing the subject of guns into the mix. And when it comes to this topic, Nick is all in, cap guns-a-blazing, his ordinance ordered, and just itching for the opportunity to both empty a clip, as while doing so, he liberally applies gun lube to areas best left to the imagination.

On what evidential theorem do I base this rather harsh assessment, you ask? Well, the answer is hilariously ironic, as the metaphorical ammo to be presented was provided by no less than the man himself. Think of Nick as The Giving Tree from the seminal story by Shel Silverstein, but instead of providing sustenance and security, Nick provides the best example of what happens when a community decides not to funnel their tax money into underwriting public education.

Let’s start with this meme, the type of which I’ve always liked to refer to as :fightbait”, as its only purpose is to start a contentious back and forth targeting a specific demographic  within one’s group of obviously long-suffering friends:
What is glaringly obvious right off the bat, other than that this meme serves succinctly as the perfect visual metaphor as to what Nick allegedly lacks between his thighs, is that it also obliges no other purpose than to establish an unfounded claim to victim-hood for Nick, if he dares receive the merest of push-back for posting it- hence, the reason why it was offered up for public dissection in the first place.

Nick, for all intents and purposes, is in no discernible way, truly interested in fomenting a mature conversation regarding the pros and cons of this subject so near and dear to his heart and his hip, he just wants to puff out his chest, get a few zingers launched, and then retreat to his safe space to stare at his collection of manhood substitutes.

But the gun-love doesn’t end there, no siree Billy-Bob. There are jokes to be had about attacking your fellow citizens with force during times of duress:
And the notation of the emotional lows of not being able to buy enough ammo to offset your fears that Antifa is hiding either under your bed, or in your underwear drawer:
As to be expected, there’s the worn-out cliché that “gun laws don’t work”, no matter what law enforcement, compiled statistics, and reality say:
Yes… laws targeting specific social issues and crimes do not work. That’s why we can all drive at high speed and backwards on the sidewalk, and shop in the nude at Walmart. And don’t even get me started on the joys of robbing a bank, and walking away (naked, of course) without fear of consequence. However, when it comes to the discussion of regulating guns, the penii-lacking cravens who collect them as if they were limited-edition FUNKO sets, equate such legislative action as being akin to a vasectomy being performed upon them with the jaws of a rabid squirrel.

Jaws, by the way, that have the very-much-alive squirrel, still attached,

Nick, like so many others within the chromosomally-challenged gun-rights movement, chooses to ignore the sobering statistic that over 38K people a year die due to the involvement of guns, but to be fair, it is kind of hard to achieve an accurate count when the fingers you’d use to tabulate such data, are all busy “polishing” your rifle. And nothing gets a gun owner’s tubes of lube flowing like the hope that one day, they’ll have the chance to pay respectful homage to the Russian nightclub scene from the first John Wick movie.

Decidedly, they’ll be dealing with a low-level meth-head trying to boost their late-model Ford Fiesta’s car stereo at 2 in the morning, versus smashing an international drug trafficking ring, but hey… ya’ gotta start somewhere, am I right? Baby steps, and all that.

For those of you out there who may now be thinking that I’m anti-gun, let me assure you that I am truly not. I wholeheartedly support the 2nd Amendment, and a properly trained (and vetted) citizen’s right to carry, and I say this as a former gun owner. However, while I may not be anti-gun, I most certainly am anti-idiot, so when I see a so-called “responsible gun-owner” post idiocy like this: The first thought that I have is that not only do we need stricter gun laws, but that along with mandatory liability insurance, compulsory safety training, and an annual range and familiarity qualification, that perhaps, the crucial pre-certification process should include a non-negotiable psychological assessment as well. That last facet alone, I feel, would lead to a cumulative reduction in the number of gun-related injuries at the very least, and in theory, the overall violent crime rate as well.

Sure, the downside is that guntards like Nick would have to find some other means by which to maintain the illusion of their overblown and faux manhood, but I’m not too worried. After all, they’re good at spinning false narratives to begin with, so what’s one more on an already burgeoning pile? His sense of gun fetishism aside, there’s so much more to Nick then just asinine opinions regarding politics and guns, he’s also got some paranoid ones concerning the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic as well, because of course, he does.Sigh… all I can say to this newest slice of dumbf**kery ala’ Nick, is this:
Other than the fact that Nick seems to have comprised the entire plot of this posting from the purposefully deleted scenes from the 2007 movie “I am Legend”, he’s also engaging in the most disingenuous of cherry-picking, to validate an ambiguous narrative that glosses over as to why the current situation in America is the way that it is. First off, we had a leader so-called, who, despite the best efforts of lauded scientists and virologists, deliberately downplayed, if not outright ignored, the severity of the infection rates, to the detriment of this country, its citizens, and its international reputation as a world power capable of boundless achievement.

Falsely claiming that the rapidly developing scourge of COVID-19 was “under control”, and that ‘the numbers will go down to zero”, the traitorous mango man-child willingly let over 400K of the citizens he was tasked to protect die, rather than lose political face and risk his hoped-for administrative legacy. As we’ve come to see, tha6 approach worked out like gangbusters in the end. Sarcasm, definitely intended.

Throw in a far-too-large segment of the US populace who, due to their lack of knowledge and distrust regarding science, along with their hubris concerning being asked to worry about their fellow humans for a very short period, and it’s not that hard to see exactly why this plague is hanging on to us tighter than a Proud Boy does a Tiki-Torch. However, in reference to the declaration that ”They” now control you and everything about your life”, I’d note somewhat sardonically, that has been the case for a majority of us, especially for those born during the advent of today’s social media.

The shadowy cabal he refers to as “They” already know where we shop, what we buy, who we talk to, what our hobbies are, and how often we engage in them. And if you doubt that we’ve all been under an intrusively watchful eye for the last five decades or so, and possibly even longer, I misplaced my sunglasses the other day, and as I wondered out loud where they might be, my phone rang, and the voice on the other end kindly told me to look on my bedside table/, where I had placed them the night before. Now, if only “they” could only tell me where in the heck I misplaced my sense of youthful optimism, I’d be right as rain.

But I’d be amiss in my analysis of Nick if I depicted him as an overblown caricature of what modern-day conservatism currently represents, and not as an actual person, if I didn’t address some of his inherent finer qualities. After all, my being Fair and Balanced, as FOX “News” loved to say back in the day, is key to sustaining a progressive dialogue, as we all well know.

But I’d be amiss in my analysis of Nick if I depicted him as an overblown caricature of what modern-day conservatism currently represents, and not as an actual person, if I didn’t address some of his inherent finer qualities. After all, my being Fair and Balanced, as FOX “News” loved to say back in the day, is key to sustaining a progressive dialogue, as we all well know. By way of example, Nick is an ardent romantic, which I have to admit, took me somewhat by surprise. Sure, it’s overly clear that he has a great passion for ordinance and the hope of using it on a day he’ll later recall fondly as he’s taken into police custody as being nothing short of glorious, but I digress.

That’s an obvious joke of course, as I foster no sincere convictions that Nick would ever fire off anything in public except his mouth, and even then, only in the company of people who already agreed with his particularly paranoid takes on life in general. However, we all know given his other publicly posted sophomoric assertions, it’s a small-caliber weapon at best, and about as effective as a NERF gun would be versus a charging elephant, or a truly hungry supermodel.

You seriously have no idea how dangerous it can be, getting between Cindy Crawford and a tray of freshly made pizza rolls. Trust me on this. It may save your life someday.
(This photo taken at the exact moment the microwave timer went off.)

Getting back on track, I’d like to showcase the amorous subtlety of a man who, if I were more of a cynic, I would assume sees the majority of his first dates end with either a restraining order, or a blast of well-deserved pepper spray to his face, given the vulgarity of his romantic proposals:

Yep… this is the sort of passionate invocation that could make Casanova himself rise out of his crypt, look around, read the following, and with a voice and intellectual presence sadly removed from this world since the Year of Our Lord 1798, look Nick squarely in his beady little eyes, and query ever so politely:

“Seriously… what in the f**king hell is wrong with you, Dude?”

To be brutally honest, despite my bachelor days apartment being once labeled with the not-too-far-off-the-mark designation as “Wayne’s Home for Wayward Strippers”, I still never managed to rack up the personal stats that Gene Simmons pf KISS allegedly has, But even I, on my most awkward of high-school days in the late 1980’s, could have delivered a far better attempt at setting up a successful sexual liaison than this vile vulgarian, and keep in mind ,that I once used to look like this:

I just have to ask, what type of woman would swoon at dialogue lifted straight out of a letter to Penthouse? You know, the kind that always starts off with “You’ll never believe this, but it happened to me one night, working the graveyard shift at my small-town 7-11”?

Now, due to the obviously unmfortable issues of financial liability that could arise from a poor choice of words, I won’t even dare suggest that the only way this guy could ever pick up an intelligent woman would be with the use of carefully applied chloroform and a windowless van, but I’ll digress, because who needs those kinds of legal hassles, am I right?

Sure, all the evidence that Nick has self-provided, and that I’ve presented thus far, might paint my newest BFF as an arrogantly ill-informed vulgar gun-stroking-fetishist who’s wooing skills are on par with his willing lack of political intellect, but fortunately, there’s nothing else left in his metaphorical toy-box for me to make snarky observations about.

Which I’m sure at this point, would make Nick breathe a small sigh of relief.
Nothing of course, except for two small, almost insignificant, hardly worth discussing at all, possible blemishes splotching his, as we’ve seen, truly impeccable character. I don’t know what it is about being a conservative White middle-aged male these days, but it seemingly demands that you embrace more than a few quirks that as a rule, are at best, exceedingly detrimental to successfully passing as a fully functioning human being.

These include, but are not limited to, jingoism, xenophobia, misogyny, gun-worship, perverted faith, dedication to being woefully uniformed, a sense of shirking one’s personal responsibility so strong that mythical God himself couldn’t scratch its paint-job, and of course, thinly-veiled racism inadequately disguised as either a belief in law and order, or as topical humor. To be fair, I have no idea or can even surmise if Nick holds any of these vile principles close to his heart, past the gun-love and willfully flawed partisan principles, but it’s also equally fair to state that where there’s smoke, there’s usually an ignorant firebrand hoping to turn it into a conflagration.

So, without further ado, let’s view the end result of racist smoke made into a racist joke:
Other than the fact that this idiocy shows this meme’s true colors by depraving the perfectly normal Mexican accent into a repugnant slur against an entire race, It also depicts Donald Trump as even more absurd, in regards to his racist narrative against Mexicans and their culture, than he normally (if inadvertently) portrays himself, and that’s truly saying something, given all the offenses that he’s proudly compiled, as if he were trying to win a special Proud Boys merit badge for such:

For the sake of accuracy if not culinary History, I’d note that Taco Salad, cannot be classified as a wholly Mexican dish, nor is it a separate American creation, either, It’s origins date back to the blending of cultural influences of Texas-born Mexicans, also known as Tejanos, who merged their cuisine with that of the westward-bound pioneers, who came to settle in Texas. And thus, the culinary juggernaut that found itself named after the Texas-Mexican Railway, known far and wide as “Tex-Mex” was born.

Or perhaps the true reason behind this excruciatingly cringe-worthy photo-op is as simple as his trying to persuade his gullible flock of check-writing, MAGA merchandise purchasing, incessantly bleating sheep to overlook the hypocrisy inherent in lauding a culture’s contribution to American gastronomy and its values, while demonizing its people as the sole reason as to why America is suffering all kinds of social ills, which to be brutally accurate, despite the fact that the horrors inflicted upon it, are often done so by its ruling class of one-percent predators, both literal and metaphorical, that Trump has always been an integral part of.
You know… now that I look at it from a different angle, I’m gonna have to amend my original assertion about Nick not holding somewhat racist views, and for the record, I’ll also say that while he’s obviously nowhere near the territory of holding a tiki-torch, I’d have to concurrently opine that he’s possibly more like a bigoted version of Diet Coke- it may have only a few calories, but it still possesses the same vile taste. And Nicky? When morons like your treasonous mango man-child build higher walls, there will always be people who come along with a taller ladder, or in the case of the never-to-be-built fantasy wall that you pleasure yourself to the thought of, a $10 hacksaw from Home Depot.

Next and thankfully, last up, we have a post that much like Axl Rose and his faux Guns N’ Roses mid-life crisis masquerading as a reboot, has not aged well:
What our politically impotent prophet Nickodumbass, is referring to here, is the series of nationwide protests that took place during Trump’s train-wreck of an administration, pushing back against a gamut of social offenses that ranged from unchecked acts of police brutality, to numerous and consistent attempts by the GQP to thwart our Constitutionally protected right to vote.

However, as is to be expected where the Republican ilk is concerned, this reality is deliberately jettisoned in favor of the false narratives regarding the random acts of violence that occurred at the demonstrations, and were, as proven to be in most cases, wholly independent of the protests themselves, the fault being laid at the feet of outside agitators unconnected to the cause itself, White Supremacists, and sometimes, the cops themselves, who were ostensibly there to keep order.

Several non-partisan studies, along with statistics provided by several law enforcement agencies, when tallied, have indicated that 93% of the protests, which occurred in all 50 states, were actually peaceful,. Yet another inconvenient factoid that Right-wing jacktards like Nick tend to ignore in favor of promoting their paranoid account in which our most prominent American cities would have been burnt down to the ground, if not for the intervention of the asinine arsonist who sparked the flames to begin with.  

Nick’s meme, presented as “proof’ that modern-day conservatives are truly the ones who are the paragon of maturity that should be emulated, is not only flat-out dead wrong in regards to the information that’s out there for public digestion, but is one of the better examples of how Trumpanzees such as Nick, successfully merge the duality of cognitive dissonance and sheer delusion.

While it is true that there were a scattered handful of anti-impeachment protests across the country, they never reached the fever-level of what was expected by law enforcement, and demanded by Trump himself, and for that we should be glad. But to state, and with a straight face no less, that Liberals or the Left-wing are “entitled spoiled brats” when your side protests everything from factual news reporting to the valid demand to hold those in power who abuse their authority accountable, that is when you’re not protesting the design on a Christmas coffee cup, is quite the hypocritical stretch, at best.

The reality of things as they stood, was that going into the impeachment hearing, both sides knew full well that the Republicans had no intention of ever seriously holding Trump to account for his numerous crimes to begin with, and that knowledge alone, was the underlying reason why widespread demonstrations were kept to a minimum, and not due to any overblown and faux sense of political maturity held in tandem by one side or the other.  

Nevertheless, the one specific area of scrutiny where Nick’s disingenuous valuation truly falls apart, much like a Kardashian under a heat lamp, is when you take even the most superficial of dives into the collective data concerning the Right-wing’s accumulated history of violence. The list I’m about to offer up for consideration may be far from complete, but even given its limited range, it is at the very least, indicative of the lengths to which conservatives will go, in the attempt to politically (if not literally) silence their opposition, both real and imagined.

To note; there was the Portland commuter train attack (2 dead), the Charlottesville car attack. (1d) the murder (1d) of a University of Pennsylvania sophomore named Blaze Bernstein in California, sixteen mail-bombs sent to various Democratic Party officials, as well as several harsh critics of then U.S. President, Donald Trump, mass shootings at two synagogues, one in Pittsburgh (11d), and one in California (1d), along with another mass event that took place at a Walmart in El Paso, Texas. (23d)  And I would be remiss in my duty of staying on top of things, if I didn’t include the latest slaughter of the innocent (8d) in three connected events in Colorado.

But regal us some more Nick, with your bullshit stories about the violence committed by those who tend to lean Left. I for one, can’t wait for yet another thrilling, if wholly inaccurate, installment. Naturally, I can’t leave such a steaming pile of crap sitting on the virtual doorstep of current reality, so let me respond, in the only way I know how. With facts. Now, to save myself some time, if not severe wrist cramp, I’m going to roughly paraphrase some data I included in a previous screed, and it is this:

And despite the incessantly mindless bleating of conservatives, Antifa has never been connected to a murder, let alone several, as has been falsely claimed. Even when the overall range was expanded to include incidents that occurred independent of the anti-fascist movement, Left-wing violence was only responsible for 21 deaths since 2010, versus the 117 committed by Right-wing extremists within the same period of time.

Adding further insult to the sanctity of alternate facts that conservatives tout as Gospel, the final tally of violence attributed to the Right-wing scorecard, is over 320 murders committed between 1994-2020, so please, my loyal boot-licking disciples of Cult 45, enlighten me as to how you did the math on this one.

I’m sure your PowerPoint presentation regarding such, will be utterly riveting.

Highlighting the very palpable danger that conservatives willingly provide safe harbor to, Seth Jones, a counter-terrorism expert and who was partially responsible for compiling the data collected, stated in an interview with London’s’ The Guardian newspaper, that: “Left-wing violence has not been a major terrorism threat. The most significant domestic terrorism threat comes from white supremacists, anti-government militias and a handful of individuals associated with the ‘boogaloo’ movement that are attempting to create a civil war within the United States.”

Well. This is awkward, isn’t it, Nick?

It seems that when it gets right down to the brass tacks, the ones who we as a society truly have to worry about, aren’t the people who protest for social change and civil rights, while wearing vagina hats, but are instead, the moronic mass that wrap themselves in the American flag, waves the Bible, and feel the need to strap on a fake dick before they can leave the house to go get coffee. Who could have guessed? You know, other than anybody with a working intellect who’s ever observed one of those Nuremberg cosplays that you gullible conservative sheep call a political rally, that is?

It boggles the mind, for no matter how you look at it, it appears that if you feed an under educated demographic a steady diet of paranoia, xenophobia, misogyny, racism, and wackadoo conspiracy theories, you’ll eventually wind up with an over-reactive base of cultists who on no more than a whim or a rumor, will gather up their freshly sharpened pitchforks and tiki-torches, and proceed to storm the local  castle, all while screaming about whatever fable Right-wing media told them to be morally upset about that day.

Speaking of which…

As your meme clearly states, “There were no protests, no riots, no looting, no shootings, no attacks on law enforcement, no building burnt.” And for the most part, this statement is true. Somewhat. There were several violent incidents at Trump rallies where counter-protestors were attacked without provocation, most of which werer gleefully cheered on by your now deposed Fanta Fascist. So your claim that your side is inherently more peaceful given this fact and the evidence above, is totally false, no matter how many memes you choose to post.

And then, there was the abominably deplorable events of January Sixth, 2021. Maybe you heard about it, Nick. Maybe you didn’t. But if I remember correctly, it was in the news for quite some time afterwards, so I’ll err on the side of caution, and fill you in on what you may have missed, because at my gore, I’m totally a people person. And because I am, I’ll balance what occurred against the so-called talking points of your meme Nick, by describing the proceedings of the day in the very same manner in which the Conservative hierarchy are attempting to do so now.

Hopefully, this approach will be A-OK with you Nick, because mythical God knows, I’d hate to put any metaphorical dents in your unwavering support of a pumpkin-tinted fascist.

Nick: “There were no protests, no riots…”

Well, that puts me in my place, as I guess this photo is of a free-spirited kegger that just got completely out of hand on the steps of the Capitol Building, right kids? I’m kidding of course, as this image, (a class photo of sorts) was obviously taken to serve as a future cherished reminder of the event, and to make it that much easier for the FBI to invite all these fine seditionists to a free of cost, but not free of charges, spa day possibly lasting several years, at one of our nation’s multiple finer secured government-run resorts.

Nick: “no looting…”
I can only assume that this real American patriot is just borrowing this podium stand for a parishioner conference at his church potluck, and will put it right back where he found it when he’s done. Remember kids, it’s not ‘looting” when you’re a White Conservative, so much as it’s “standing up for your constitutional rights”. That’s why he felt the need to liberate this item from its rightful place… because he couldn’t stand to see it being so oppressed by those soulless  commie Demonrats.

Literally, American selflessness personified..

Nick: “no shootings…”
This is actually true, as the only shooting that occurred, was by Capitol police, the unknowing stooges of Socialist bastards who, since day one of his God-mandated win, had been plotting against President Trump. Cold-bloodedly opening fire on a peaceful group of American Patriots, who were doing nothing more threatening than attempting to subvert American democracy, at best. The nerve of those badged bastards.

The bullet, fired by cowards claiming supreme authority, struck and subsequently killed, one Ashli E. Babbitt, a former Air Force veteran who, based on what those fact-checking Libtards dare to call a damnable lie, had been tricked into betraying her country. Play stupid seditionist games, win a stupid indiscriminate bullet in your stupid seditionist neck, and all that, I guess.

So congratulations Nick, you got one in the goal. Man, is there egg on my face or what?

Nick: “no attacks on law enforcement…”

Once again, Nick is essentially correct, as there were no attacks on law enforcement to speak of, no siree Bob. In fact, there were a handful of photos taken of the interaction between the Capitol Police and these true Patriots, and if anything, they definitively show the entirely serene, if not openly playful, nature of those who showed up en masse to take a quiet, peaceful, respectful, and leisurely tour of the hallowed halls of the Capitol.

As you can clearly see, the day started off with a high-spirited and competitive game of “Capture the Flag, if not a Legislator, so we can hang them”, and the numerous American flags so proudly displayed next to the one of a wrongly perceived corrupt and cowardly traitor, really hammer home the point that yes… this really did take place in our formerly glorious Republic:

This game of conservative grab-ass then evolved into a free-for-all version of “Red Rover”, with its revised chant of “Red Rover, Red Rover, send your insurrectionist incels over!”, and it’s fairly obvious from the satisfied look of contentment on the faces of the police, copious amounts of fun were truly being had by all in attendance this day.

In a further act of mutual respect and cooperation, here we see these not-at-all violent supporters of the Blue Lives Matter movement, assisting the police in putting away their adult baby-gates, because hands on the work, means the works of hand get done that much quicker:

However, the fun really kicked into the highest of gears, when the assorted throng broke out their personal supply of Silly String, and started dousing the police with it, in a light-heated attempt to help bridge their differences regarding what others (those Libtards yet again) might surmise to be a violent attempt at overturning the results of what we “all know” at this point, despite all evidence to the contrary, to be a fraudulent election:

According to the modern-day Nostradamus known as “Q”, Donald Trump is STILL the President, Joe Biden is operating out of a fake White House located on a Hollywood sound stage, and as soon as Kamala Harris, Obama, Pelosi, Schumer, the Pope, both of the Clintons, and that fake Captain America from Disney’s Falcon and the Winter Soldier, are rounded up and arrested, Trump will take his rightful place, yet again seated firmly and permanently, in the highest office of the land.

In *fact, *[This is actually NOT a fact, something my lawyers told me that I had to make very clear, or they were all going to quit, as a group] all of this came to pass on November 3rd of 2020. Oops, my bad. I meant it took place on January 6’th, thanks to those stalwart patriots. It didn’t, you say? I’m ever so sorry, as what I should have obviously said was that it most certainly happened no later than January 20’th.

And if not, then rest assured, come March 4’th, or possibly later, due to an unforeseen bagged pork rinds shortage, that on the 20’th, the Prophecy as declared by the omnipotent “Q” Continuum will be not only reality, but future Lore for the ages:

Oh, mythical God dammit- I just looked down at my German word-a-day desk calendar and noticed that the current date is March 28’th, 2021. Either I overlooked something crucial in the last QAnon Email blast I was sent, or my limited-edition Nostradamus Scrying Bowl is on the fritz… again. Never mind. I got the issue licked. Turns out, I was using tap water instead of the recommended Healing Waters of Lourdes, hence the reason why the only vision I could see was that of Milla Jovovich eating cake:
[ Photo credit: https://www.instagram.com/millajovovich/?hl=en ]

Nevertheless, if I were to be brutally honest, I kind of always see that vision in my head 24/7 to begin with, and that’s regardless of whether I’m staring into a bowl of mystical water or not. So, maybe we should all take this observation of mine with about a pound and a half of salt, give or take an ounce.

Speaking of incorrect opinions, let’s get back to the subject of the non-riot, and Nick’s highly erroneous statement of there being “no attacks on law enforcement…” Thanks to all the selfies, journalistic stills, and videos that this mob of pustular Patriots willingly self-posted, we as a nation and as its citizenry, know this to be false, beyond any form of credible reproach. But I did say that I was going to approach this event in the same manner that the conservative hierarchy is doing, so here’s yet another photo of loyal American constitutionalists peacefully interacting with the Capitol police:If you deign to dare risk listening to the Lamestream Media, you might be led to believe that this image depicts an officer of the law who was just doing his job, facing the possibility of being crushed to death behind a door by a mob of treasonous twittering twats, but nothing could be further from the truth.

What is actually happening in this cherry-picked photo designed to deceive my fellow Americans, is simply a devoted cosplay depicting a modern take on the death of Giles Corey, that took place in 1692 Salem, Massachusetts.  For those of you not familiar with this tale, Giles Corey was an English-born American farmer who along with his wife, was accused of witchcraft during the Salem Witch trials.

Immediately following his arrest, Corey refused all attempts to force him to enter a plea, and was subjected to being crushed under stones in an effort to force him to admit guilt, which he steadfastly refused to do. His immortal last words were allegedly: “more weight.”, which in my humble opinion, and that without question, is possibly the most badass thing I’ve ever heard.

Nevertheless, I’d request that you ignore the contemptible aspects of this insurrection at the hands of people who religiously fly Blue Lives Matter flags, when they’re not directly involved in injuring over 130 police officers, and ruinously caving in the head of a Capitol police officer with a random fire extinguisher, which led to his succumbing to his injuries a day later. For the record, this is what a patriot looks like, Nick:
Capitol Police Officer and Veteran, Brian Sicknick. If there was indeed a just and merciful God, he’d demand that every one of these bastards would have this man’s name tattooed on their empty f**king heads,

Personally, I’ve always envisioned my death at the hands of, or for accuracy’s sake, the mutated dorsal fins of a half human, half-shark cyborg army, but no matter how I check out, I hope it can go down in the permanent record that I did so while exuding a level of big dick energy so massively impressive that it would make the late John Holmes want to zip up his pants, cry into his cocaine, and quit the adult film business altogether.

Ironically, keeping one’s pants zipped up, ties directly, if not ironically, into the last inane narrative being disseminated by Republicans, that being the amount of damage done by Liberals during protests versus when Conservatives decide to run amuck.

Amuck, amuck, amuck.

One thing I’ve noticed over the years though, is that when conservatives are the cause of, or are seemingly invested in the minutiae of a riot, it’s never “their” fault, the party line always being that regardless of whatever mayhem they may have directly triggered, they’re the real victims, and deserve either benevolent consideration, or an outright free pass, irrespective of consequence. So, for my final foray into this dissection of density, I’ll address Nick’s final point of hypocritical inanity.

And just so we’re clear, this is what a “riot” looks like, according to Conservatives, and as such, it requires a cadre of militarized police and armored vehicles, as it’s blatantly obvious that these unarmed people of uppittyness pose a quantifiable threat to both our society at large, and the cops watching them, who just so happen to be outfitted much as Seal Team Six were when they went looking for Osama Bin Laden:  :However, when it comes to White people tearing apart a town after their local sports franchise succeeds in their attempt to win the Super Bowl, World Series, Stanley Cup, NBA finals, or as often is the case where the New York Jets are concerned, a free bowl of homemade soup and a much-needed reassurance hug, then the resultant chaos is breezily classified as no more than a bunch of true fans engaging in a “spirited celebration”, that rejoices in showcasing the most resilient of individual team spirit:
Now, if I were to willingly continue carrying the mantle of hypocritical revisionism as I’ve been doing (albeit tongue in cheek), thus far, I’d opine that the conservative movement’s dedicated commitment to literal whitewashing is truly a wonder for the ages, if not an invaluable reference for future fascist propagandists. Nevertheless, I do have to directly address the last point of order, in Nick’s meme, and in keeping with the established theme, I’ll try to spin it harder than James Bond found himself, while strapped inside that absurdly coenient centrifuge chamber and improbable death-trap, from 1979’s  “Moonraker”::

WORST. DISNEYLAND. RIDE. EVER.

This celluloid carnage masquerading as a film aside, Nick’s last so-called point, while fundamentally true, albeit from a cherry-picking on steroids POV, shares more than a few characteristics with this movie, the main one being that it’s not aging well at all, and ironically, for the very same reasons. First off, the story itself is ridiculously implausible, the performances are woodenly cliché, and in the end, when the situation depicted within is measured against the real world, it falls apart entirely.

In that fashion, it’s akin to almost every narrative cake that the conservative cabal serves up almost daily, if not hourly. Some of you may recall Nick’s last slice of cravenly crumb-cake that he was doling out as if it were a gift of necessary wisdom for the inane masses, was topped with those yummy sprinkles of faux offense, that conservatives like to scatter far and wide, as if they were frantically casting for their lost political relevance. This, for no other reason than to attempt to reverse the well-deserved perception that they’ve willingly and proudly, allowed themselves to become walking punchlines. To quote Nickodumbass here, hopefully one last time;

Nick: “no buildings burnt. Wait until the Senate throws out the impeachment as unlawful. That’s when we’ll see the riots. That’s the difference between conservatives and entitled spoiled brats.”

It’s quite the rarity that when I’m knee-deep in the act of writing, that I take a personal moment of reflection to cast my eyes upward towards the celestial throne of the mythical God, and openly thank him for the unexpected gifts I’m about to receive, but damn… I’m thinking that not only am I going to send a few sacrificial lambs his way, I’m going to happily toss in a few top-shelf Utah volcano virgins as well, to directly thank him for taking all that time off from his busy personal schedule to do so:

I have always prided myself on my singular dedication to accuracy, clarity, and most importantly of all, honesty, so I will more than happily concur that when it comes to the particulars of the Capitol insurrection, that indeed, there were “no buildings burnt’, whatsoever. Sure, the cops may have found more than a few homemade pipe bombs deliberately placed among the federal compound in which the Capitol normally peacefully resides, but to be fair, that’s Anarchist ordinance, not actual fire.

So I guess, these traitors to the values of America at the very least, have truly earned their Smokey Bear Awards, and yes… that is a genuine thing:  
See? I don’t just pull this sort of stuff indiscriminately out of the Internet’s intangible ether, you know. Some of this is actually planned in advance. And speaking of things that were obviously prearranged, how about these nifty and according to conservatives desperate to divert attention away from their collective’s abominable act, totally coincidental T-shirts spotted at this anti-BBQ celebrating light treason?
But once again, nothing at this point had been, or was supposed to be set ablaze. Unless of course, these stumbled across a legislator or two to use as potential cordwood, that is. In fact, these totally peaceful protestors went so far as to walk the halls of the capitol, to gently remind their fellow compatriots of this unspoken decree, utilizing colorful flags and banners, whose inherent meaning is that of unity, human dignity, and unwavering allegiance to one’s homeland, rather than the Orange-Crush-tinted leader of an abhorrently dense personality cult:
Whatever you do, if those Libtards point out that this photo represents nothing but the vilest betrayal of what America represents, given the fact that the Stars and Bars is literally a horrendous symbol that we went to war over, just remind them that “no buildings were burnt”, and trust me… that’ll shut them the hell up, and make them cry those snowflake gtears that we’ve yet to actually see, but we know are coming… someday. Soon.

So, in the end, no buildings were burnt, and when all is taken into consideration regarding this outstanding truth, all is sweetness and light, am I right?Regrettably, that answer seems to be a rather emphatic “f**k no, it is not”, as these images of one of the most detestably dark days in the history of our Republic reaffirm, bolstered by the myriad of selfies, videos, and numerous social media humble brags these seditious bastards saw fit to post as the most virtuous example of unfettered patriotism: :
Keep in mind, this building DOES have doors, but to be fair, when you’re an over-amped cult-monkey whose critical thinking skillset is on par with that of a drunken urinal-cake to  begin with, it’s probably difficult to overcome your lack of opposable thumbs as well:
I’m not going to lie here, as I’m all about the honesty, but when I originally saw this photo, the first thing that came to mind regarding what my eyes and soul were registering, was this, minus the banners and Chines-made red hats, of course:
But as Nick noted accurately: “no buildings were burnt”. However, the contents of the building ranging from random furniture to interior glass partitions, didn’t fare as well, and the carnage left behind in the wake of this destructive seditionist swath of destruction was evident, even outside of the Capitol itself:

’d give dollars to doughnuts that conservative pundits will spin the cost of the Capitol’s harm, estimated to be around 30M, as an economic boom to the small business community in DC as a golden opportunity to recoup those monies lost during the COVID-19 crisis. After all, somebody has to clean up the mess, straighten the curtains, wipe off the greasy fingerprints on all the shiny surfaces, replace all those windows and damaged access doors, that the mob both made entry though and tried to crush the police behind, and let’s not forget their final unexpected parting gift, one of maturity and rationality that was calculatingly distributed to further degrade what was once hallowed ground.

If you haven’t guessed, that present of pestilence was delivered in the form of pooled urine on the tiled floors, and human feces painted on the walls.

Yes, you heard that correctly. As they fought to establish their base of control, at no time did they ever decide to express their faux rage and political impenitence in the form of spray-painted slogans, or to stage a principle-based occupation. Instead, they as a unified cravenly collective, decided that in lieu of positively progressive action, an act of degenerate repulsiveness was the definitive go-to. What fine people. What noble Patriots. What exemplary Americans. What unintentional future cautionary tales for the ages.

But thank the mythical God above, at least fire wasn’t involved. Gotta take the bitter with the sweet, as my Grandmother was overly fond of saying, and all that. For the unfortunate legislators of America’s governance,who fled these halls under duress, this revolting act of desecration could only be perceived as the sole demented domain of the wretched, the ignorant, and dare I say it, the entitled. This scatological gesture, in and of itself, is no less than the perfect metaphor for who and what the conservative movement truly represents with pride, no matter what they’d like the rest of us to believe, or mercifully forget.

Can you just imagine what level of horror these congressional custodians had to experience, come the morning of the 7’th? And all of it, due to the sheer insanity of their so-called fellow humans, Just think of how many mounds of smashed glass. splintered piles of destroyed furniture, and other incidental damage that these embryonic sacks of rotting offal left behind, within the offices and chambers whose sanctity they so arrogantly and insolently, vandalized, looted, and ultimately violated, without a single shred of remorse to be found amongst the lot.

Especially in regards to those who once again, have to clean up their asinine and abominable mess. These are not people as the clinical definition states, nor can they be characterized as animals either, as is often the case when our society discovers that there are those who walk beside us, who have willingly surrounded all that which makes them human.

Nevertheless, this most virulent form of walking soul cancer, comprised of the very same brood that Nick has chosen to both openly defend and showcase his slavish allegiance to, are the end result of what happens when you allow those in power to disseminate ignorance under the misinformed belief that granting an open platform to such, and to those who espouse falsehoods as truth, is somehow, a step towards being graciously equitable to the contextual aspect of truly Free Speech.

So, when someone like dickless Nick here, suggests that it’s the imaginary “Alt-left’ that our country has to be on guard about, as his chosen side runs over protestors and mows down civilians inside shopping centers and synagogues, it should set the blood of anyone with an actual working intellect, boiling, to say the very least.

I feel I would be somewhat remiss however, if I didn’t acknowledge the certainty that if Nick ever deigns to read this pixelated pontification of mine, he’ll either be personally embarrassed to the point of contrition, which I strongly doubt, or more likely- he’s going to be as mad as any gibberish spouting guntard who discovers five minutes into his nude “rifle-polishing” routine, that he’s run out of the gun lube that brings him so much personal joy, if not a much-desired endorphin release.

That visual, an image I will have to burn out of my brain using a car battery and some strategically placed jumper cables, does lead into my next point- that being, one does not get to churlishly chastise his fellow citizens and humans for stepping up to secure the basic dignity and respect that all inherently deserve, while his in-league compatriots do everything they can to hinder that progression, by either the application of force, or more insidiously, utilizing the most partisan of Machiavellian schemes pathetically camouflaged as valid legislation.  

Let me tell you, there’s no better way to authenticate your self-claimed position as a lover of Constitutional Freedom, than by either promoting violence against your perceived political enemies, or doing so in conjunction with unethically stacking the deck in relation to established electoral law. It strikes as amazing, does it not, that influential voter fraud was literally a non-existent crime in this country, until we got a conservative administration that both weaponized it as the most effective of propaganda, as they normalized its use to maintain their death-grip on legislative and cultural influence.

This is not to say or allege directly, that Nick has been brainwashed by this obvious set of machinations, but I feel it is also reasonable to perhaps suggest that at the very least, his metaphorical bed sheets have definitely been run through the fluff-cycle way more than they should have been.

Nevertheless, I don’t want to end this screed full of merited bitch-slaps directed at a cravenly candy-ass on a down note, because as I often like to point out, and this for some strange reason, has to be done almost regularly, at my core- I’m truly a people person, just chock full of the Kombucha of human kindness. To prove this assertion that I know some of you may disagree with somewhat, I’ll offer the following heartfelt observation for Nick’s current political… oh what the hell, let’s all be charitable and refer to it as a “mindset”, if only for the sake of assisting the dialogue to reach the apogee, as it were.

In 1995, the renowned astrophysicist Carl Sagan, published his 12tn book, “The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark”, in which, his intent was to elucidate the scientific method in laymen’s language in an optimistic bid to encourage people to learn critical and skeptical thinking, a methodology that Nick seems blissfully unencumbered with. Ignorance being the highest state of obtainable bliss, and all that.

One of the more relatable passages, at least to myself anyway, was his take on exactly just why we as a hard-wired monkey-brained species, find it ever so difficult to accept even the merest of perceived challenges to what we consider to be our long-held values and conceived beliefs. I’m only posting it here for public dissemination because I truly believe that Nick, if he condescends to pay attention, might actually acquire a valuable perspective from within it. Think of it as me extending an olive branch of sorts, after gleefully using Nick as a personal chew-toy for close to 13.5K words.

And if said branch is refused? Well… then I can always slap him upside his empty head with it, so it’s not a total loss in the end, after all. Once again, taking the sweet with the bitter, and all that. To quote the man who placed the wonders of all things scientific in our living rooms;

“One of the saddest lessons of history is this: If we’ve been bamboozled long enough, we tend to reject any evidence of the bamboozle. We’re no longer interested in finding out the truth. The bamboozle has captured us. It’s simply too painful to acknowledge, even to ourselves, that we’ve been taken. Once you give a charlatan power over you, you almost never get it back.”

The intrinsic message that Sagan set forth is obvious, well-stated, and most importantly to the issue at hand, still damningly relevant. Nick however, being who he truly is, and for what he represents, may not see it that way, and that’s fine. To quote the villainous Rock God “Mok” from the 1983 animated cult classic, Rock N’ Rule; “Too bad. We all have our illusions, far be it from me to take away yours.” Personally, I would go one step further and employ the newly tweaked maxim that says, “You can lead a schmuck to the waters of intellectualism, but you can’t make them partake.”

Fortunately for us, drowning is still an open option, so there’s that to look forward to, when all other avenues have been ultimately explored and exhausted.

Fortunately, drowning them in evidence is still an open option, so there’s that to look forward to, when all other avenues have been ultimately explored and exhausted. So, Nick if you are reading this, I’m hoping you are having a moment of personal introspection, even if that insight comes as you sit fuming in your suburban armory, a singular vein in that sloping Neanderthal brow you pass off as a forehead, throbbing in time with your heartbeat, as if it were a strobe light at a Daft Punk concert.

After all, wasn’t it you who told me directly, if not crudely, as seems to be your way, that you were defending my “right of freedom of speech” too? Of course, it was!

I can only hope you appreciate how I decided to use it.  

“A wise man gets more use from his enemies than a fool from his friends.” – Baltasar  Gracian