Hatertriot Lames Pt.2 (Razz the Ruth)
August 17, 2020
“The three most powerful and most apparent means used by Rome to retain her power over the minds of her votaries are Ignorance, Superstition, and Persecution.” – Charles Spurgeon
Oh, what a difference a few weeks can make, am I right?
America found itself overrun by a cadre of masked out-of-control crazed thugs, masquerading as police, using the cover of civil disobedience, to rioted seemingly wholesale, far beyond the reach of established law. And then to top it off, there were other looters not connected to the cause to contend with as well. But thank Odin they didn’t have badges, because otherwise, we’d all be dead by now.
Oh wait, I’m truly sorry, that privilege is reserved exclusively to those who take an oath to protect and serve us out of our lives, especially when those particular lives so just happen to belong to African-Americans, whom most law enforcement allegedly regard as being three-fifths worthy of the same granted Constitutional rights that my blond and blue-eyed Aaryan-looking ass automatically receives without a momentary pause as to why that is.
Sure, I could easily list the numerous violation of civil rights from these over-militarized modern-day *Geheime Staatspolizei (AKA: “The Trumpstapo” accrued, ranging from permanently blindng citizens with improperly applied rubber bullets, beating up members of the Free Press, illegally pepper-spraying a pregnant woman inside a car, pulling people out of the crowd and attacking them unprovoked, using military grade chemical agents that are explicitly banned in the USA on peaceful protestors, all while obscuring their badge numbers, removing identifying insignia, and deliberately turning off their body-cams, but just ignore what you’ve been seeing on your local news, or streaming on the internet.
*[Secret State Police in German.]
After all, they were only doing it to show the whole world exactly why the anti-police brutality movement and the call to defund their militarization is in the first place was totally unnecessary.
I won’t speak for you, but I for one, find this absence of credible accountability very comforting. Heavy sarcasm definitely intended to be noted here, in case I was coming across as too subtle. Factor in the totally-not-nuts-at-all behavior of our increasingly incoherent president, who thus far, has yet to offer any trustworthy words of sympathy, empathy, from inside his glorified pillow fort, and you’ll understand just why our society is under the same divisive strain that a group of middle-aged Star Wars fanboys face when they discuss online that not only is there now a Black stormtrooper, but also a woman flying the Millennium Falcon as well.
I’m obviously kidding of course, and in no way, shape, or form should it be implied or taken that I’m making light of the lack of moral authority and leadership not being shown in regards to curbing the violence being enacted against my fellow citizens by these jack-booted thugs, sent by our wannabe monarch, heralded across the land as His High Grace Donnie the Dickless.
As a demagogue believes should set the standard for competent law enforcement in this country, there’s no way he isn’t masturbating over this latest slice of Chaos, especially if he feels that he can manipulate the inherent bedlam for either yet another, much-needed deflection away from his numerously consistent instances of gross maladroitness, or yet another unconstitutional power grab.
Now to be fair, we shouldn’t expect our currently cosplaying mad king to clearly see the burning forest for the smoldering trees, considering his recently taking up a cravenly residency in the White House’s security bunker much in the style of Hitler, but let’s be honest here- the phrase “Turn out the lights, nobody’s home”, was supposed to be only a descriptive metaphor for avoiding your local neighborhoods trick-or-treaters,-not the American citizens you’re supposed to be selflessly leading.
Some of you may have also heard the adage that there’s nothing more dangerous than a wounded animal, but that’s not entirely accurate. While it may be enraged at you and the conditions you’ve set upon it, they’re also suffering intense pain, are muddled mentally, and truly want nothing more than an abrupt exit from the situation. But what does a still-healthy and obviously angry animal want in the same circumstance? Well, that’s an easy answer- it wants your throat ripped out, your spine between its teeth, your extremities removed, and the tastier squishy parts of you to be served up as an after-snack. Metaphorically, I’m sure, as most animals don’t seem to have a taste for personal revenge, unless of course, you factor in the shark from Jaws 4.
A small aside? If I were Ellen Brody and my husband died from a heart attack related to the stress from facing down and killing a monstrous Great White shark some years ago, and my youngest son was then slaughtered by a possible relative of said deceased shark, the last place I’d go to forget about it all would be an island in the Caribbean… just saying.
That advice aside, I was always curious as to how Michael Caine’s downed plane pilot character managed to go for a desperate swim in the ocean, climb onto a waiting boat, and emerged from the water completely bone-dry. Seriously. I’m not making this up. They left that unedited shot continuity error in the movie, which just serves to prove that occasionally, talented actors who should know better, really will do if just for the paycheck. I don’t know what he bought with it, but hopefully it wasn’t a long-term investment in Blockbuster Video. For his part, Caine later explained that they waited so long for the camera to turn over, that his outfit eventually just dried out. See, you can learn something new every day, whether it’s useful information or not. Well, you and I easily can, but Trump supporters?
Not so much, given all the empirical evidence laid out almost every second for the most casual of perusal on the World Wide Web. Case in point, you ask? Well, out here in my neck of the New Mexican wilds where I live, the internet out here oft serves as pure escapism, due to the dearth of things to keep yourself occupied, and as the 2nd quickest of the local gossip grapevines.
As you might correctly assume, there’s a large contingent ranging from the very young to the elderly, who are truly seasoned web-surfers. Let me put it this way: YouTube, Amazon, Netflix, Hulu and the other various social media platforms are just as influential as our one-screen movie theatre and local newspaper, if not more so, when it comes to staying informed as to what’s going n locally.
As is to be expected, given the size of my township, there’s also a niche populated with community-based Facebook pages that run the gamut from the advertising of businesses to promoting the occasional yard sale. Sporadically, even town politics. versus the world at large, are discussed, but those threads usually unravel rather quickly. For the sake of transparency, I must admit, and with no small sense of inordinate pride, that I have been permanently banned from two of them, due to the bluntness of my opinion.
Guess what, Twitter? You’re not the only one who dropped me faster than a hot rock, and both of those pages were younger, and I might add, far thinner than you as well. One of these exclusions was one I could care less about, unless I ever find myself having the need to buy either a lawnmower or an old bassinet, but the other one? That’s a horse of a different color, prancing in as a blessing in disguise, for two reasons- the first being that it allows me to puncture the undeserved egoistic smugness of someone who in my personal opinion, is the most hilarious of religiously patriotic hypocrites, and the second, that it paves the way for the acquisition of some well-needed and long overdue home-grown adversaries to bounce my cynical censures off of.
Everybody needs a hobby after all, and one of my favorites has always been toppling sculptures dedicated to the glorification of one’s personal inanity. And if my switchblade tongue allegorically slashes an imbecile, whom I might awkwardly bump into at my local burger joint known as Blakes, so much the better. For as we have come to know, I look forward to confrontation in the very same way that a small child looks forward to Christmas.
I noted in my last screed that since my arrival here just shy of two years ago, that my interaction with the laypeople, unlike my time in Phoenix, has been relatively benign. While that has been somewhat of a refreshing sea-change, it has at times, made me feel like I’m sort of stuck in a comfortably numb rut of my own creation. Since I‘m no longer experiencing quite the same level of obligations, social pressure, or personal frustrations as I did back in the days of my stalking the Badlands of the Phoenix Art Scene, my writing has taken somewhat of a shift away from the dissecting of my [at the time] art-world life, and has slowly expanded to cover topics of far greater weight.
Granted, there’s still always going to be the occasional literary Artbitch-slap, even if the main inspiration behind such is for no more than my personal amusement, which let’s face it, is really why I do what I do. Yet, if I were ever forced under the most minimal of duress to be honest, I’d also tell you all that it has been quite nice not having to slog through PHX’s fifth-rate quagmire of dilettantish hubris and name-branding ineptitude that consistently fails to even register as a serious blip within the American art-world at large.
Uh-huh, I said it. So as always, please send your hate mail to the usual place if you would. Granted, the “scene” I find myself in at this time is obviously far smaller and less influential than any I’ve ever worked in before, but the more things change, the more they remain the same, as the saying goes. This is not to say that because I live in such a small town, the people here are less than intelligent, or lack a sense of gravitas in relation to culture- far from it, in fact. Small towns don’t always mean small minds, and I’ve been pleasurably surprised at the level of intellectual curiosity and self-reliance I’ve discovered during my habitation thus far.
For the sake of clarity, one of my consistently stated maxims as of late is that I’ll listen to your debate points as long as they’re actually worth debating in the first place. No conspiracy theories, no badly photoshopped memes, no quoting the Bible as a credible paragon of “proof”, and most definitely, no foisting YouTube videos hosted by rabid right-wing curs that make Donald Trump look like a member of MENSA by comparison, in lieu of empirical evidence, either. These benchmarks I feel, are not only achievable, but can be surpassed, and the majority of people I interact with both here and online, do that quite easily. But as for the rest… would it be wrong of me to ask the spirit of Lemmy Killmeister, to please take the freaking wheel?
Even with my newly installed sense of Zen hastened by the limitations of advancing age, I still for one, really despise stagnant idiocy. All shades of false modesty aside, I’ve always felt that dutifully calling out those who are the reason that the makers of Preparation H still have to continue printing usage instructions on their product, should be regarded as performing a noble community service.
Speaking of the community, my last screed did strike a nerve with more than a few people, but considering that most of them seemingly eat books rather than read them, I’m not going to really lose a whole lot of sleep over it. For me, implications and/or threats of physical violence are just part of the fun of what I do, and I react accordingly. As in I really don’t worry at all, given the fact I’m currently the proud user of a Tandem insulin pump, a medical device which is attached to me 24/7, save for the brief moments when I’m either refiling my insulin cartridge, charging the battery, or reenacting the *The Battle of Leyte Gulf in my bathtub, using only sponges and a flotilla of resolute rubber duckies.
Not too surprisingly, this intermeshed tech is singularly the most terrifying thing in my life that I currently deal with, hands down. This is due to the fact that if I or my team of medical professionals mismanage this system, it theoretically could impair me at best, and at worst-kill me deader than Scott Baio’s career. and that right quick. So, until someone can manage to be somehow scarier than this possible scenario, threats slide off of me faster than Stormy Daniels rolled off of Trump.
Along with the normal copiousness of diabetic side effects, I also have to endure a form of severely painful nerve damage known as neuropathy, and if that wasn’t fun enough, there’s also something rather disturbing currently going wrong with my gastric system as well.
So, when one of these knuckle-dragging troglodytes takes some time out from misusing a Hot Pocket to pleasure themselves, stating that one day they’re going to show up on my doorstep to either “teach me some manners”, or possibly harm me, all I can say is this: depending on my mood and what kind of pain I happen to find myself in that day, I may just willingly open the door and let you in.
This of course is based on the sole prerequisite that you let me take care of the laundry and the dirty dishes first before you enact your evil revenge, as I see no need for both of us to be rude by leaving a mess for my girlfriend.
Let’s just call it professional courtesy, and leave it at that.
That smattering of inanity aside, the last few months living here have shown me that despite the world’s repository of information being no further away than the reach of a fingertip, certain persons within my humble little burg, have the same intellectual grasp on Reality that Tomi Lahren would have if she were attending the annual Oligonucleotide and Peptide Therapeutics convention in San Diego. And yes, that’s a real thing. Google it. Once again, that’s not a slam against the small-town paradigm, but it is a sad observation in relation to the current state as to what’s regarded as crucial information these days by the populace, both local and nationwide.
If I had a dollar for every time I engaged with one of these permanently dimmed bulbs, I’d be living on my fantasy island, constructed solely out of Ding Dongs, and receiving weekly full-body massages from my harem of Milla Jovovich clones, recruited straight off the set of the fourth Resident Evil movie. Don’t worry… I’m sure my GF would be totally cool with it- after all, when I told her I was going to use that joke, she just looked at me with a huge smile on her face and said “It’s fine”, which as every man knows, is girl-code for “I totally support all your decisions 100%.”
So, I got that positivity going for me, which is sort of nice. However, the profound cracks that have been forming on the surface of my inner tranquility as of late, originated from two truly unexpected sources- one was the current COVID-19 pandemic, and the other?
Two supposedly independent, yet oddly related, Facebook pages. The first being where people post about their upcoming yard sale, and the second, where they try to sell you their barely used treadmill. Ahh, Suburbia. You never fail to amaze me with your diversity of thought. For me, the fun all started when I saw this post on the page that directly “serves” the small township in which I live.
Other than the fact that this so-called protest, comprised of Trump-loving, pickup-truck-flag-festooning, anti-masking, half-wits driving around my local Sonic in literal circles, demanding that New Mexico be fully “reopened”, only proved to be the epitome of what one might expect from a convention of people who’ve inoculated themselves against the pandemic by chugging Clorox smoothies.
It was also a stunning display of what entitlement actually tends to present itself as in the end. Keep in mind that at the time this asinine announcement was posted. New Mexico was only starting to experience the inconvenience of businesses slightly altering their operations in relation to the ongoing COVID-19 pandemic, and not the further restrictions that have really yet to come.
Other than the mandatory mask protocol enacted by most stores, the only additional annoyance was the restriction on gathering in large groups, which not only affected businesses large and small, but churches as well.. This was of course, due to the risk that indoor public assemblies legitimately pose, and despite the fact that these houses of so-called divine worship were only to be shuttered temporarily, as they were deemed non-essential. Which in essence, they are. The decision to close was met with a large outcry of acrimonious chagrin by both the hypocritical fleeced sheep who attend them, and the shepherds responsible for said fleecing.
But I’ll address this singular topic later, and hopefully, with a little more depth.As I noted, the first page was intended solely to be a place where you could find a used lawnmower on the cheap, and not as a haven for inane political discussion. Naturally of course, when I pointed this out to the pages admins using their very own rules that stated the same, I was immediately banned and blocked, because the powers that be don’t like dissent of any kind within their fiefdoms of arrogance.
Mind you, I wasn’t too put out by this, as I was only there looking for a gently used bookcase for my studio, but I digress. However, in my humble opinion, using the page as a bully pulpit of sorts was a tad bit over the top, especially since it was in direct violation of the very rules that were placed upon the governance of it originally.
That’s one of the things I’ve always loved about right-wing cultists- when they’re not ignoring the blatantly obvious reality of their own hypocrisy, they’re overreacting faster than a middle-aged Karen witnessing African-Americans having the sheer gall to do what she considers to be exclusively white people things. I swear to God, if the skin of conservatives was any thinner, they’d look like *Slim Goodbody.
*[Slim Goodbody is a fictional character created in 1975 and performed by John Burstein. His custom unitard costumes, where internal organs were displayed with a high degree of biological accuracy averaged about four grand to create, and as a child, I remember being absolutely horrified beyond all rational thought by this walking representation of a genteel Cenobite. If you don’t know what a “Cenobite” is, feel free to Google it.]
There was however, somewhat of an upside to my social media exile, as it not only forced me to seek out yet another page that might have the bookcase that I’m still looking for, it also germinated the inspiration behind this particular piece of writing. My initial quest for practical storage eventually led me to discover a page named “Grant County Goodies”, and it didn’t take long for me to discover that one of the page overseers was yet again, another pretentious quasi-Christian Trump supporter whose attitude was disturbingly similar to the person who had cast me out for experiencing my opinion previously.
And in an action that was not too surprising, this individual as well, when not boring the group with their arbitrary rants, was also posting content that went directly against the rules of the page that they themselves violated consistently. Sort of a “do as I say, not as I do” type of situation. This particular hypocrisy, in regards to word and deed, has also been alleged to be blighting yet another FB page that they run, that being “Silver City Reviews, Experiences & Recommendations”, which is supposed to be for the promotion of the local businesses in Silver City, but has sadly found itself at times, serving as a soapbox for this person to air their at times, allegedly skewed take on Reality.
When I look at it with a cynical eye, it’s almost as if Joel Osteen and Michelle Bachman had a baby, and as a christening gift, decided to bequeath an Empire upon it, whose legacy is founded in Facebook-disseminated ignorance.
Interestingly, when I was casually talking to one of my doctors about the GCG page and how I had found myself banned from it, they not only named the same admin who I had my issue with, they added: “Oh, that cow bans so many people from her bulls**t page for disagreeing with her, she might as well be Twitter.” However, while that was amusing, I forgot to mention one small detail: when I was discussing the page, I never mentioned her name. At all. They just knew who it was when all I had said was: “I got booted off by some cowardly hypocritical bi**h”
That, boys and girls is when you know your social media marketing is running on all eight cylinders. Normally, given how small my town is, I’d pass on the opportunity into getting into any form of blood feud with someone I regard as having the intellect of a rice cake and the moral veracity of a stale chocolate éclair, but sometimes the Kraken of Karens decides to come ashore with the most delightful of gifts, and it would be all shades of personal insolence for one to refuse when such a thoughtful bounty is presented.
And if there’s anything I am truly regarded for, it’s my sense of interactive decorum, and Odin knows, I’d hate to screw up such a perfect track record. Besides, I’m at my happiest when I’m punching holes in somebody’s dinghy of duplicitousness, and if one can’t take joy in what one does, especially when it’s on the side of debatable righteousness, then what is the point of being alive in the first place? I’d rather be marked as being a curmudgeonly firebrand, than someone who was perfectly fine with engaging in complicity with any variant of willful ignorance.
To note, I’m the proud recipient of a lifetime ban from Twitter for taking on Tomi Lahren, the inbred fans of White Supremacy, and “actor” Kevin Sorbo, otherwise known as TV’s Hercules, a show which spawned a far-superior spin-off known as Xena: Warrior Princess, which unlike the majority of Sorbo’s work, will never be a sale item to be found in the bargain-bin barrel at Walmart.
To clarify, I took on a bottle-blond garage sale Barbie straight from Niflheim, actual Nazis, and Hercules himself, emerging relatively unscathed. So, I’m already fairly well-schooled when it comes to facing stupidity head-on. Let me be honest here if I may, I’ve already got more than enough friends, and the theoretical loss of respect from persons I already don’t like, respect or fear to begin with, doesn’t make me lose any sleep at night.
Unless of course, it’s because I’m still laughing at them. This happens way more, and way less, than you might think. As I’ve often written, and that seemingly somewhat endlessly, I don’t care that others think differently than I do, regardless of the issue at hand, so long as they’re actually thinking in the first place.
Hence, the most direct reason why it’s almost damn near nigh impossible to have either a civil or productive debate with any of the randomly chosen cultists to be found within the Red Hat Brigade.
For as the celebrated English-American political activist and author Thomas Paine once declared; “To argue with a man who has renounced the use and authority of reason, and whose philosophy consists in holding humanity in contempt, is like administering medicine to the dead, or endeavoring to convert an atheist by scripture.”
This is sort of ironic in a sense, since many of Trumps followers seemingly don’t believe in Science, and just happen to be self-declared Christians who have outwardly shelved their disdain of the First, Second, Third, and Ninth Commandments being violated in order to devotedly follow an overly-tanned Orange Calf to the eventually complete obliteration of their humanity, their values, and their country.
For the record, those Commandants are: (1) You shall have no other Gods but me. (2) You shall not make for yourself any idol, nor bow down to it or worship it. (3) You shall not misuse the name of the Lord your God. (9) You must not give false evidence against your neighbor. However, at their best, this legion of lunacy does provide some of the best unintentional comedy this side of watching Trump try to answer even the most softball of questions that are handed to him, so there is at least some entertainment value to be had during these dark times at least.
Case in point regarding the New York Pork Dork would be this devastatingly intellectual exchange between Cadet Covid-19, and his ever-faithful blow-up chin-sex doll Sean Hannity, who during an interview on, where else but FOX, asked him the easiest of questions regarding what his top priorities would be if Trump did manage [Odin forbid] to win a second term. Hannity’s soft as cashmere query to our mentally meandering moron was this:
Hannity: “If you hear in 131 days from now, at some point in the night or early morning: ‘We can now project Donald J. Trump has been re-elected the 45th president of the United States’- let’s talk. What’s at stake in this election as you compare and contrast, and what is one of your top priority items for a second term?”
Trump for his part, looking as if he had just been told his Diet Coke lacked his standard Adderall double-shot, blathered out the following word salad in response:
“Well, one of the things that will be really great, you know the word experience is still good. I always say talent is more important than experience. I’ve always said that. But the word experience is a very important word. It’s an- a very important meaning. I never did this before. I never slept over in Washington. I was in Washington, I think, 17 times. All of a sudden, I’m president of the United States. You know the story. I’m riding down Pennsylvania Avenue with our First Lady and I say, ‘This is great. But I didn’t know very many people in Washington. It wasn’t my thing. I was from Manhattan, from New York. Now I know everybody, and I have great people in the administration. You make some mistakes. Like, you know, an idiot like Bolton. All he wanted to do was drop bombs on everybody. You don’t have to drop bombs on everybody. You don’t have to kill people.”
Relax everybody, Cinnamon Hitler is on top of it. Just like he was in regards to the pandemic, the national deficit, global warming, the economy, national infrastructure, gay rights, women’s body autonomy, civil rights, police brutality, domestic terrorism, disaster relief, workers protections, consumer protections, the regulating of our clean air and water, building his fantasy Wall, and last, but not least, sexually satisfying Stormy Daniels. who to be quite honest, probably got more consideration than the rest of those other issues combined, but what a glorious 38 seconds that must have been for the whore-monger known far and wide as Two-Pump Trump.
Most tend to look upon this as an allegorical theory of course, since nobody wants to risk forming a possibly fatal aneurysm by actually visualizing it. Speaking of conceptions that nobody wants to think about, there is a commonality that the collective hive-mind of the Red Hat Brigade shares, and that is an unfounded belief that due to their unwavering support for a sack of gilded lunch-meat, they are somehow both politically pertinent, and therefore, openly persecuted for that imagined relevance.
Nothing could be further from the Truth, save for their xenophobic sweet potato giving a speech, but I digress. However, pointing out the obvious foibles of a traitorous angry Creamsicle is not what brings us all here today, and while it would be amusing to write about Benedict Donald until my laptop melts, I have smaller and tastier fish to fry.
So, what metaphorical mackerel of moronicness will I be serving up for your pleasure? Well, before I reveal my latest addition to my human scratching-post collection, let me just say that it’s been quite some time since I wrote anything about a person that operates within my current circle of local existence, and that was nothing more than a mere riff on a doctor who had all the charm and professionalism of Dr. Mengele at a B’nai B’rith brunch.
Also, if you have been a long-time reader of my stuff, then you already know that the majority of it, prior to my New Mexico relocation. was generally, based off of my observations regarding art, the Phoenix art scene, or the people therein. In other words, a fairly narrow worldview within a very large city. But now that I find myself in a city that literally has one stoplight in what serves as its downtown center, and where there is a scarcity of artistic ice giants to slay, my outlook has been driven inward.
Over the last two years, my life has gone through an occasionally difficult yet wholly transformative evolutionary process, and what was once important, is no longer, and what I once regarded as irrelevant, has become crucial. And no, it has nothing to do with veganism, CrossFit, or religion, thank Odin. I simply haven’t had to deal with the same kind of stressors here that I did there, as I alluded to earlier at the start of this screed. But over the last few weeks, I have observed a rising wave of prideful ignorance cresting within my normally bucolic slice of small-town serenity, and I will be damned if I let it get a toehold past what it has already sadly gained, if not corrupted, outright.
But as usual, I’m getting somewhat ahead of myself, so without any further ado, let me introduce our newest and unwilling guest ripe for mockery: a businesswoman who in my opinion, holds sentiments, political assessments, and an alleged hypocritical Faith that can only be charitably described as… well, let’s just say it’s “refreshingly unique”, and leave it at that, shall we?
Ladies and Lords, if I may present to you, yet another Trump-loving and self-declared Christian that our unfortunate republic has been infested by as of late, so please put your hands together for our newest guest of dubious mention, the one, the only, the unintentionally hilarious…
RUTH DARLENE SEAWOLF!!!!
[Polite clapping occurs, balloons fall from the ceiling, and the confetti cannons go off without a hitch Go big, or go home.]
But before I get started, can we just take a moment and appreciate the fact that she might possibly have the most badass surname? I mean… Seawolf?
That’s the name of a Bond supervillain, and it absolutely rocks. Granted, she might not have the standard hollow volcano lair or the army of jump-suited minions, but you know she’s seriously working on it. However, since we live in the real world, I’m picturing something more of a low-key approach to her world domination scheme, and I think I know what it should be. In my mind’s eye, I can totally envision an 80’s action adventure TV show with her surname as the title, and given the selected genre, you just know it would have to come standard with an 80’s new-wave kick-ass theme song- perhaps one of those catchy ear-worms that were so popular back then?
As I see it, the show’s plot would center on the mysterious intrigues of a conservative hypocrite who under the cover of a bastardized religion based on a ludicrous zombie sky-daddy myth, rules over a fearful and paranoid fiefdom. Masquerading as an innocuous real estate agent and insurance broker, she engages in fierce and heated battles with elitist atheist Libtards, who foil her attempts to spread vile disinformation, cloaked in arrogant ignorance by utilizing a secret arsenal of facts gleaned from books.
And as an additional benefit, appearing in a special cameo on the first celebrity-packed pilot episode, will be Reality itself! That is some weekly edge of your seat action going on, and I haven’t even mentioned the line of Seawolf-branded toys from Kenner yet. In addition to this million-dollar idea, I suggest it be paired with the seminal TV classic “Airwolf” starring Jan-Michael Vincent, market the packaged duo as the “Air and Sea Action Block”, sit back, collect the toy-driven revenue, and watch the Nielsen ratings go through the roof.
Obviously, the lead role has to be definitely played by the 1983 incarnation of American actress Jane Badler, who kicked some serious Earthling butt as Diana, the main antagonist in NBC’s amazingly inventive science fiction series, “V”. Fortunately, since her character was a prideful alien lizard who was forced to wear a human skin suit to blend in, this part wouldn’t be that much of a stretch overall for the incredibly gifted Badler, as it would remain true to my vision of how I perceive Mrs. Seawolf, so everybody involved gets a win of sorts.
Now at this point, you’re probably thinking two things: the first being that “I would binge-watch the f**k out of that show”, and the second is most likely wondering precisely why I have such vitriol for Mrs. Seawolf, which to be fair, is a valid enquiry. And as usual, I do have the answer readily available for you- I loathe bullying, I despise hypocrisy, and I find the act of endeavoring to hide both under a veil of contrived and saccharine drenched Christianity to be truly abominable within a polite society.
Let me say this for those of you who might think I’m about to start bagging on religion in general, for I am not. If you want to truly believe in a magical zombie sky-daddy, feel free. We do live in a country that allows you a wide range in how you express your beliefs, so I guess the end point being made here is “America… F**K YEAH!”
Nevertheless, if you think you can use the Word of God to rationalize and shelter your own inherent hate, your personal biases, or your lack of humanity without consequence, then know that I will, and with great joy no less, take that tome of values that you’ve obviously never read or follow, and metaphorically feed it to you one page at a time, until you either come to understand the subtext of its message, or apologize for being such a pretentious twat. I have zero tolerance for those who abusively forge the Faith into a sword for promoting their own agendas, and if your mythical God doesn’t call you out for it, I sure as hell will.
Speaking of which, please for the love of your imaginary God, stop yelling from the gilded rafters of your tax shelter known as your church, that you’re being “persecuted” for your beliefs.
You are not. You are in fact, being called out for your hypocritical intolerant bulls**t- no more, no less. So, you can either practice what your book of instructions ACTUALLY says, which you so endlessly mangle as you screech-preach, or shut the hell up you sanctimoniously pious pinheads. Until somebody comes along and protests your relationship, your marriage, your lifestyle, and then tries to legislate it under the misappropriated auspices of the Law, you’re doing just fine.
And this take on what a purportedly religious person should represent, and more to the point, how they should act, fortifies the crux of the following story arc, so let’s get into it, shall we? As I have previously mentioned, I had been banned from my local community FB page for acidly pointing out its consistent hypocrisy, and due to my being exiled abroad as if I were *Dante Alighieri, I wandered through the darklands of the Web, eventually finding myself on the aforementioned GCG FB page, which in retrospect, presented itself very much in the way that Idaho does.
*[The Poet Dante was exiled from Florence for his public support of the Holy Roman Emperor over the established Papacy. The expulsion lasted for the entirety of Dante’s life, but it did influence his masterwork The Divine Comedy, which undeniably, drew its inspiration from his real-life experiences of roaming through an allegorical “hell” seeking protection.]
That is, it’s blandness personified at first glance, but the deeper you get into it, you realize that there’s way more family trees without any branches holding the thing together as a whole. But for all of its insipidness, there was also still the occasional intrusion of viewpoints that aren’t warranted or requested, and in the limited time I was exposed to the page, I observed that these sentiments typically emitted from one person alone, that being Seawolf. I decided to drop the “Mrs.”, because let’s face it kids, it’s far cooler having a tussle with a supposed Bond villain, rather than your run-of-the-mill Karen who comes off as if she’s a super-cranky PTA board member who’s just discovered that nobody really likes her store-bought cookies.
Just like the previous page I had gotten booted off of, the GCG enclave in my opinion, suffers from the same banal issue- that being the curse of a thin as tissue-paper-skinned administrator, who at best, arbitrarily follows the rules that they themselves hypocritically enforce with an iron fist in regards to others. This in itself is not surprising, given the alleged small-town mind set of said overseer, but it is annoying as heck when all you want is a bookcase, but find yourself suffering the ramblings of your ill-informed Aunt Karen instead.
And this is long before she possibly hits the well-stocked liquor cabinet, which I feel, presents itself as being even worse, because that at least, could be used as a valid excuse for coming off as dumber than a box of lightly-used urinal cakes. To be honest, I think we’ve all experienced enough of our share of the right-wing faux Christian constitutionalist dogma that Trumpeters ceaselessly post like Pavlov’s intolerant cousin, but we shouldn’t have to be subjected to it when we’re trying to unload our BBQ grill, now should we?
Apparently, Seawolf disagreed, because she banned me faster than the time it took her to ignore the tenets within her Bible, once I pointed this fact out. To be honest, I’m more aggravated that now I have to search even harder to find what I’m looking for, in an effort to avoid a four-hour road trip to Las Cruces, but if there is a flip side to all of this, It would be that I’m also as equally exhilarated that I now have something fun to write about, and it’s literally right in my own backyard.
The mythical sociopath known as the Lord taketh away, and then, he giveth right back, so thanks for that, my good Sky-daddy Zombie. I so owe you one- just let me know if you want that one in the form of “virgin” or “married”.
Getting back on track, my newest expulsion was met with a dismissive laugh, and a softly uttered “Are you f**king kidding me?”, and as a rule, I normally would just ignore it and move on, but since I do have a lot of time on my hands these days due to my newest health concerns gluing me to my couch, I decided to put a leash on my metaphorical Internet pig named *έρευνα and do nothing more than take a quick and gentle hike through Seawolf’s social media, both to kill some time and as a side benefit, possibly find some twatastic truffles for a late-night snack, and I was not disappointed at all.
*[AKA: “Erevena:”, or “Research”, in Greek.]
Now, what did I discover exactly? Well, there was the afore mentioned hypocrisy, ignorance, conspiracy theories, along with a sense of self-important paranoia, faux Christian values, unquestioning devotion to Benedict Donald, and enough whining to justify her claiming a tax deduction for operating as as a vineyard. Turns out however, that not only could I have left έρευνα at home, as all this was lying right on the ground in front of me, but had the advantage of being already pre-packaged with my name printed neatly on top.
But how could I? For not only does έρευνα have the best road-trip stories you’ve ever heard, she also knows everything too. Thanks, Internet pig- I owe you one. Just let me know if you want that one in the form of “tentacle porn”, “conspiracy theory”, or “I promise I won’t make you into virtual bacon.”
I’ve written before regarding the mental proclivity among the so-called Christian followers of our Cheeto-In-Chief, that being how they’ll go out of their way to attack others they dislike for certain foibles, but slavishly ignore the very same glaring character flaws inherent within the rapidly mentally decomposing Jack-o’-lantern currently camouflaged as our president, and the members of the party he incompetently leads.
These include, but are most certainly not limited to, the following: xenophobia, white nationalism and supremacy, voter fraud, sexual assault and domestic violence, acts of political violence, pedophilia, collusion, foreign influence on our electoral process, cyber-bullying, bribery, influence peddling, abuse of power, rampant homophobia, rampant narcissism, fabricated falsehoods, half-truths, quid pro quos, willful ignorance, supporting a president with disturbingly blatant cognitive issues in relation to his ability to accept or function within, the construct of actual Reality, and my newest personal favorite, that being the turning of two blind eyes to Trump’s bestest-buddy Putin offering a “bounty” on our very own soldiers.
And when you dare to mention and by that, I mean prove, that his acts of treason, lies, incompetence, paranoiac tendencies, inflammatory and constant Twitter shout-outs to the racist sub-section of his base, and idolization of, and attempts to implement fascism, are contrary and destructive to American values, they just stick their heads further up their own asses and claim the moral victory, regardless of what’s just been proven.
People always say that mixing cocaine and heroin together creates one hell of a speedball, but they’ve obviously never experienced the rush you get when you combine undiluted willful ignorance with religious hypocrisy, and then pretend you didn’t. However, as specified, I did go a-walking through the dark woods of Seawolf’s various social media pages, because more than anything, I just honestly wanted to know what in the hell her problem was with anyone seemingly challenging her opinion past it being what I considered a flaw of character.
Instead, I found what in my humble estimation, constitutes a range of personality quirks, that for somebody who’s properly licensed and trained, might be able to make not only a few house payments off of, but possibly build a whole career around as well. Here I was, looking for nothing more than a simple humorous tangent that I could dust off and drop into a later story, but instead, the ghost of Kurt Vonnegut swung by my writer’s garret, and said, “I got something for ya.” Even when dead, the man still inspires.
However, despite the bounty I had uncovered, I still wasn’t going to write anything regarding her, until I discovered that not only was she openly and publicly supporting the odiously ill-informed restaurant I wrote about in the last blog, but that she’s also allegedly one of those dedicatedly asinine “anti-maskers” who sadly, and all across the country, are having full-on meltdowns for being asked to wear a piece of fabric over their faces when they go out in public.
Mind you, this is being requested in order to flatten a pandemic that has killed over 170 thousand of her fellow Americans, and infected millions more, but oh, the blackened inhumanity of the crushing burden placed upon her, am I right? Now, before any of you internet constitutionalists start shrieking, it has NOTHING to do with your civil rights either- if you want to know why, read the blog before this one, because I’m not rehashing that issue yet again, and if you don’t want to, learn how to use Google.
It’s become fairly obvious that when the authorities asked people to be concerned about others, they didn’t really know who their target audience was, but it most definitely wasn’t today’s modern “Christian” demographic, who while crowing the loudest about innate morality, generally displays the least of it.
Let me also point out that thanks to the combined idiocy of the anti-masking movement, multiple states opening up way too early, and the lax execution of social distancing and mask protocols, the past several months of isolating ourselves has proven to be all for naught. This negation of the flattening effect is solely due to the aforementioned issues that so far, have caused over 20 states to experience their Covid-19 infection rates skyrocket almost to the point of no return.
This not to be unexpected state of affairs, led our inept president to panic as he often does, and foist yet another one of his maladroit “solutions”, leading to the following declaration, and I quote;
“But I think we put ourselves at a disadvantage, I told my people. I said, ‘We’ve gotten so good at testing … We test much more than any other nation,’ so you hear about all these cases. So, instead of 25 million tests, let’s say we did 10 million tests. We’d look like we were doing much better because we’d have far fewer cases. You understand that, I wouldn’t do that, but I will say this: We do so much more than other countries it makes us, in a way, look bad but actually we’re doing the right thing. When you do more testing, you find more cases”
If one were to apply this f**ked-up logic as a guide to real life scenarios, this would mean that if you don’t take a pregnancy test, you’re not truly pregnant, if you don’t report a crime, then it never happened, and as long as those multiple guys my ex-girlfriend cheated on me with keep their mouths shut, all those skin-flutes she performed solos on were apparently just the random penii of my imagination, which not too surprisingly, makes me feel even worse, notwithstanding my feeling of the need to rinse out my brain with gasoline.
But there was still some of the best words to come out of the sewer-pipe of our hopefully soon to be ex-president, the majority occurring during a recent press conference where he was not only touting a recent jobs report but avoiding taking questions as well, as it would showcase his disconnect from reality yet again. To quote the Mango in Chief;
“If you look, we were talking this morning, something to think about. China was way early, and they’re getting under control just now. And Europe was way early, and they’re getting under control. We followed them with this terrible China virus.
And we are likewise getting under control. Some areas that were very hard hit are now doing very well. Some were doing very well and we thought they may be gone and they flare up and we’re putting out the fires. But other places were long before us, and they’re now… It’s a life. It’s got a life. And we’re putting out that life because that’s a bad life that we’re talking about.”
Continuing in his inanity, he went onto say: “These are not numbers made up by me. These are numbers. [WTF does that even mean?] We’ve implemented an aggressive strategy to vanquish and kill the virus, and protect Americans at the highest risk, while allowing those at lower risk to return safely to work. That’s what’s happening. Our health experts continue to address the temporary hotspots in certain cities and counties, and we’re working very hard on that, where the relationship with the governors is very good.
We made a call, Mike Pence made a call just yesterday, and said, “What do you need?” Not one governor needed anything. They don’t need anything. They have all the medical equipment they can have. “Thank you, US government.”
This is the person in “charge” boys and girls… don’t you feel better? Odin knows, I do. This lying sack of stable genius by the way, is someone that Seawolf feels the need to publicly support nonetheless, but as ascribed above, I still wasn’t planning on writing about my newest person of interest, despite her being a fan of a man so spiritually and physically corrupt, that the entity she claims to worship wouldn’t piss on him if he were on fire.
This is of course, somewhat ironic, considering that he’ll be taking up eternal residence in a 24/7 barbeque pit when he finally dies, and in my humble opinion, given her glaring hypocrisy, sheer ignorance, self-righteousness, and sense of almost paranoiac self-absorption, odds are good that her condo on the Lake of Fire will probably be across from his. That is, if you believe in this sort of malarkey.
And mythical Lord not above, she does. So, what pray tell, finally goaded me into doing so? Well, it was this arrogant little slice of gall right here.
This is without a doubt, one of the most privileged things I’ve ever read. Oh, poor baby… your precious full-on mamas-boy was refused entry to a private business out of concern for other people’s health, and he ran to you like a candy-assed bitch to complain about it? What did he expect you to do, Mommy Karenest? Call the manager? Stage a drive-around protest? Post another FB rant whining about the unfairness of it all? Oh, wait- you did do that, so… my bad.
And before you start whining “He thought he woke up in a free country”, I will point out that while this is true, the vey next thing he did was walk into a private business, which has the right to set whatever rules it desires within it. It’s hilarious though that the very same demographic who defended homophobic bakers, fail to see the irony in when the situation affects them directly. All snarkiness aside, I’m pretty sure that somehow, they’ll be able to make up the lost revenue from his not being able to buy a Monster energy drink and a slightly stale bag of pork rinds.
What’s truly irritating though, is the fact that Ruth thinks people who willingly violate a stores common-sense policy, set in the interest of not adding to an infection rate that’s currently ranked as #1 in the world, are the ones suffering an actual hardship, despite their obvious and sadly increasing, self-righteous absurdity. It’s been said as of late that those who say “I can’t breathe with a mask on” and “Other women hate me because I’m so smart and pretty”, are the same person, and I think that applies here.
However, I do particularly enjoy her ludicrous assertion that “if you choose to wear a mask, more power to you, if you don’t, you shouldn’t be treated differently.” Let that resonate for a moment. Just because you’re willingly violating the rules of a private business clearly stated and set in common sense, but that’s still no reason for them to view you differently than their regular customers who aren’t acting like a cackle of arrogantly entitled jackasses? Interesting take on reality there, Ruth. Not even remotely close to rational, but interesting.
And yes, you do have the option to spend your money elsewhere, but the next small-town store you’ll visit most likely will ask you to wear a mask too, so either get comfortable ordering your Hamburger Helper from Amazon, or learn how to suck it up, blubbercup.
You’re being asked to wear a mask for a few minutes at best, and practice social distancing, Ruth- it’s not like you’re being forced into a cattle car at gunpoint, marked with a Star of David or a pink triangle, and taken to a camp. You’re waddling your ass into Walmart for a forbidden pint of Häagen-Dazs and a bottle of Boones Farm, so chill the f**k out, you histrionic harpy.
But here’s where the log-ride to Hell really starts, and the rabbit hole gets even deeper. See, it’s not enough that Seawolf is an allegedly avowed anti-masker, she’s also quite the self-declared woman of Faith too, which is actually something that I, as a recovering Catholic, can respect. I’m sorry, did I say respect? I do think I may have to add a modifier of sorts here, as this statement is slightly incorrect. I respect untainted Faith, not the quasi-bullspit dogma that the so-called Christian followers of Trump practice, as I’ve previously described.
Happily, there’s no better way to show you’re a virtuous and ardent Christian than by implying someone you politically dislike is a murderer, let me tell you. Where’s the proof of this assertion? Well coincidentally, if you have Faith, you don’t need proof. It’s literally the underpinning of every known religion that’s ever been manufactured by man, not the entity being blindly worshipped, no matter what the other 18 to 4200 [estimates vary] religions may think or say.
But as I did mention proof, here’s some to back up my opinion, and it’s from Seawolf’s own hands.
What fortuitous luck, Ruth- for not only did you manage to find a deity whose prejudices match your own, he’s also way cool with his blessed lamb bearing false witness as well. Yeah, this post is hilarious. You won’t wear a mask for five minutes to protect your fellow citizens, but you can take the time to make a thoroughly tasteless joke in full defiance of how your mythical God expects you to act.
But. let me give you some begrudging credit here, for despite the proven risk posed by large gatherings, despite the number of parishioners and their priests who’ve died after defying common sense protocols and the law, you’ve still openly maintained that religious services are still “essential”, no matter how illogical holding them in the face of a pandemic is, because the zombie carpenter whose teachings you deliberately misinterpret will protect you from the plague he’s responsible for sending in the first place, right?
I guess all those other devoted worshippers didn’t tithe or pray enough to be saved, so it sucked to be them, I guess. I’d point out to Seawolf that the holy tome she cherry-picks as if it were the buffet at Sizzler, directly addresses this issue in the Gospel According to Matthew, which for those of you who may not know, happens to be the first book of the New Testament.
To note, Matthew 6:5-6 states; “And when you pray, do not be like the hypocrites, for they love to pray standing in the synagogues and on the street corners to be seen by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward in full. But when you pray, go into your room, close the door and pray to your Father, who is unseen. Then your Father, who sees what is done in secret, will reward you.”
In essence, you don’t need a specific building to have a chat with God, you just need Faith. Weird that the only people saying you need to attend church or else face holy repercussions, are also the very same individuals demanding that you pay a weekly usage fee to be granted access to an all knowing, all powerful and for some as yet undetermined reason, cash-strapped deity. Strange how that works… but let me not put words into the mouth of a complete stranger, I’ll just let the said strangers’ social media postings speak for themselves.
If anything, they may provide the best clarity as to why it’s absurd to chart the course of your life around a collection of allegorical morality tales, passed down orally over the course of decades by illiterates to scribes who, after applying what diplomatically might be labeled as a fair amount of creative license. turned them over to the powers that be. Those jacklegs in turn, then weaponized them in order to assert supreme guidance and control over a populace far too ignorant and fearful to question those in charge about the massive contradictions inherent within.
If you happen to be someone who currently identifies as a Christian, odds are pretty good that you might be feeling somewhat persecuted or offended by my assertions, but please don’t. When all is said and done, it’s just my opinion, and you don’t have to agree with it if you don’t want to. After all, it’s not like I follow a book that endorses your need to burn eternally for not believing in the same imaginary deity that I do. Can you just imagine how offensive that would actually be?
Nevertheless, if you’re seriously envisioning hoping to see me from your perch on a heavenly cloud, doing butterflies in the Lake of Fire because of my stance, rest assured that when your imaginary Lord and Savior is done with appearing on toast and in random stains, he’ll return from Narnia truly set on kicking my heathen ass.
Happily, as you will come to see, these gentle and totally non-threatening, non-judgmental, assertions supporting both her faith and a pastor who was fairly arrested for his non-compliance with established state health protocols, are truly overflowing with the best distillation of Christian acceptance, tolerance, and a love that can only be achieved when one merges the Word with an as yet undiagnosed mental condition in order to convey the purest essence of piousness.
I won’t speak for you, but you have to just adore someone who claims that whomever made sure a law designed to protect both people and these religious jackasses alike, should be careful, because they eventually will have to “give an account” to God. It brings to mind the classic joke of a flood that traps a preacher inside his own church:
“A fierce tempest descends on a small town, and soon turns into a flood. As it does, the local preacher is seen praying on the church’s doorstep, as he is quickly getting surrounded by water. Seeing this, one of the townsfolk comes up the street in an inflatable raft.
“Better get in, Preacher. The waters are rising fast.” “No,” he says, “I have faith that the Lord will save me.” But the waters still rose, forcing the preacher to seek refuge on the balcony, when yet another person arrives in a motorboat. “Climb in, Preacher, and I’ll get you out of here.” Once again, the preacher refuses the offer, saying: “I won’t leave, because I have faith that the Lord will save me.”
Within moments, the dark floodwaters rise over the church, leaving only the steeple’s cross above the turbulent water. Clutching to it with his last reserve of energy, the preacher fights valiantly to stay above the water, when out of the storm-wracked sky, a helicopter appears, and the Coast Guard diver aboard yells down to him, saying. “Preacher! Grab the damn ladder! This is your last chance!”
Yet again, the preacher insists that, “The Lord whom I serve so faithfully will save me!”
Unsurprisingly, he drowns. Being a truly pious man, the preacher goes straight to heaven, landing squarely at the feet of his beloved and beseeched God. and with just a hint of ungratefulness in his voice, this man of the cloth asks him, “Lord, I had unyielding faith in you. Why didn’t you save me from my watery grave?” God looks at him with eyes blazing and his face set firmly in a scowl and says…
“What did you want from me, you dumbass? I f**king sent you two boats, a Coast Guard diver, and a me-damn helicopter.”
It‘s this state of psychosis that just reinforces my long-held belief that if I were forced to base my entire life on a fictional book, I’d go with “The Three Musketeers” by Alexander Dumas long before I’d choose such a ridiculously unbelievable tome like the Bible. Yeah, I said it, and I’ll stand behind it 100%. After all, I’d still get drama, adventure, sexy maidens, not to mention sword-fights, and I wouldn’t have to deal with the hassles of a petty sociopath that demands incessant worship either.
Well, other than King Louis XIII of course, but if he got too bitchy to deal with, I could always just leave France.
Look, I can believe in a great flood, I can believe in twelve dudes hanging around a truly charismatic amateur prophet, and I’ll even buy the whole concept of a guy getting swallowed by a whale and surviving, because it actually has happened at least once *before, but my cynicism is on high alert when it comes to what’s supposedly “real” in the Good Book’s bats**t-crazy narrative.
Things like; people turning into salt, two of every animal from across the globe arriving in the Middle East to get on a home-made ark built by a 500-year-old man, the attempted rape of angels, Jacob wrestles with God and wins, God and Moses have an intense chat through a burning bush, Samson kills 1,000 men with the jawbone of an ass, God sends two bears (?) to punish forty-two random children for mocking Elisha’s male pattern baldness, Jesus fed 5000 people with five loaves and two fishes, Jesus walks on water, Jesus recommends cutting off body parts if they cause you to sin, Jesus turns water into wine, [which is actually my favorite trick, ever] Jesus rises from the dead, which in turn, causes the other dead people to get out of their graves and walk around and last, but certainly not least- 144,000 Jews will be going to heaven, everyone else is going to hell.
Yeah… I can totally see why people would devote their lives and sacrifice their working intellect to this Ponzi scheme disguised as Salvation. It all makes sense now. Even if Hunter S Thompson himself was drinking peyote-infused margaritas, he wouldn’t be able to come up with a concept this insane. Thankfully however, L. Ron Hubbard was able to close that metaphysical gap twixt religion and sci-fi, which when you look at it, was really more of a comically thrown-down gauntlet, than an actual rebuke. After all, laughter is the very best medicine, and I like to think of myself as a walking drugstore of drollery, even on my off days. In fact, even the Bible addresses the concept of humor… sort of. From the good book, as it were, a few passages regarding laughter:
Job 8:21: “He will once again fill your mouth with laughter and your lips with shouts of joy.” [Nice!]
Psalm 2:4:“But the one who rules in heaven laughs.” [Um, ok… about what, exactly?]
Psalm 37:12-13:“The wicked plot against the godly; they snarl at them in defiance. But the Lord just laughs, for he sees their day of judgment coming.’ [Ok, that’s a bit dark…]
Peter 4:13: “Instead, be very glad—for these trials make you partners with Christ in his suffering, so that you will have the wonderful joy of seeing his glory when it is revealed to all the world.” [I need to suffer like Christ did? F**k that…]
Proverbs 14:13: “Laughter can conceal a heavy heart, but when the laughter ends, the grief remains.” [Sigh. Do any of these not contain an ending that isn’t a downer?]
And possibly the best one describing the joy and mirth that only the followers of a fever-dream can spread as freely and willingly as Trump spreads his hypocritical ignorance, that being:
Proverbs 1:25-28: “Since you disregard all my advice and do not accept my rebuke, I in turn will laugh when disaster strikes you; I will mock when calamity overtakes you- when calamity overtakes you like a storm, when disaster sweeps over you like a whirlwind, when distress and trouble overwhelm you. “Then, they will call to me but I will not answer; they will look for me but will not find me,”
There’s that compassionate and all-loving God we’ve all come to know and are brainwashed to fear like children in the dark, lest we burn or find ourselves eternally entangled in chains of ice! For the imaginary everlasting life of me, I can’t understand why I’m not fully on board with this mental illness masquerading as a lifestyle choice.
I just love it when I get to throw their ignorant catchphrases back in their faces, and I’m not ever going to pass up an opportunity to do so when it presents itself. The reason I bring up the topic of frivolity is that due to their Savior so-called, lacking a sense of non-spite-based humor, most of them in his Grace follow his/her/its lead in how they view what qualifies as funny.
And Seawolf is no exception. Not by a long or even a short shot. Once more, I ask, and the internet in its wisdom, provides the proof of what I’ve come to believe, solidified by my depth of research, and her own words:
Now, there’s probably more than a few of you reading this who’ve not only understood why these two screengrabs are unintentionally funny just by themselves, but I’d like to think that there’s far more of you wondering how somebody who runs two allegedly successful businesses could also have posted this absurdity without a second, or obviously, a first thought as well.
To that, I have no answer or workable theories. All I can say is that sometimes, you just have to sit back and wonder if the carbon monoxide detector in someone’s home needs to have its batteries checked, and that right quick. So, let’s take a moment and unpack these postings if we may, by calling attention to the glaringly perceptible, starting with the public statement issued by Michelle Lujan Grisham, current Governor of New Mexico.
First, the Easter Bunny is a myth, much like ghosts, goblins, the Tooth Fairy, Guardian Angels, the Sandman, the concept of American exceptionalism, and if I were so inclined to stoke the fire just for my own amusement, Jesus Christ as well. Second, as established earlier, and by the Bible itself no less- church attendance is NOT “essential”, no matter how much Seawolf would like to interpret it as such.
So, if you have an issue with what was set in stone by Matthew in the New Testament Ruth, feel free to take it up with his editor-in-chief, as you quietly worship the same in solitude, And third, it’s fairly clear that Governor Grisham’s message masks not only a serious plea for her constituents to follow common sense guidelines to help flatten the increasingly deadly COVID-19 curve, but also serves as an obvious tongue in cheek assurance for New Mexico’s children who may be somewhat frightened by the starkness of their new reality.
And as I see it, you’d have to be the intellectual equivalent of a Dorito chip to be provoked by it, or misinterpret the same as anything else.
I can only imagine what she used to tell her progeny on Christmas Eve when NORAD would report on Santa’s progress across the globe- she most likely complained that they weren’t posting updates about Jesus and his upcoming birthday party the next day. Poor guy… every year, his birthday has the rotten luck to fall on Christmas, and nobody ever remembers to buy him a gift.
Regarding the “crowded beaches” posting, I’m not entirely sure what Seawolf was hoping to convey here- she’s obviously in favor of New Mexico’s citizens defying Gresham’s valid plea for self-quarantine, as evidenced by her “Governor Supreme” slight, but the question arises as to why she couldn’t find a less ridiculous image to use in conjunction with her POV.
For those of you who may not be in the loop, Arizona (where I had lived for over 25 years) is a landlocked state, with no beaches, None. Zip. Nada. And it won’t have any until the earthquake conservatives have been waiting for hits and drops California right into the ocean, thereby giving people for the first time, an actual reason to willingly admit that they’re going to Quartzite.
Granted, one could argue that she knew this, and was trying to foist a sardonic jab supporting the willingly idiotic citizenry of Arizona, but given her trail of dedicated obliviousness thus far, I trust this theorem with the same resolve that I’d give to my faith in the safety of gas station vending-machine sushi.
Speaking of “Faith”, if there’s one area that those who claim to have it should be concentrating on during this modern-day plague, it’s obviously trying to circumvent if not outright block, a woman’s body autonomy. I have always found it interesting to see a group of people who proudly label themselves as “Pro-Life” screeching dramatically since 1973 about what is still a legal medical procedure in the United States as nothing less than state-sanctioned murder, but at the same time, are also more than happy to sit on their couches when it comes to the issues a true advocate for preserving Life should be concerned about.
These include the homeless veterans and mentally ill living on our streets, the scores of immigrant children locked in cages and dying on cold concrete floors in ICE facilities, African-Americans being brutalized by our nation’s police, along with the scores of children, the elderly, and the needy who lack for food and basics.
Toss in the millions for whom the GOP wishes to do away with their affordable healthcare, if only to showcase the hypocrisy of those who claim to truly believe in “Life”, but only care about it up until the point of birth. After that, you’re on your own fully-realized fetuses, so get off your ass, get a job, and best of luck! However, if you bother to ask any of these Bible-fondlers just what should be done in regards to these pressing issues, don’t expect anything else save for an overly rehearsed and stale diatribe regarding the concept of one’s personal responsibility.
I’ll flesh out this take of mine in a bit, but first- let’s see what Seawolf has to self-righteously say about a choice she’ll never, her fantasy God willing, ever have to face:
Sigh… every time I think to myself, that Seawolf can’t possibly disappoint her mythical maker and savior any further, it’s as if she gleefully hands over her rarely-opened Bible, randomly judges a total stranger who has done nothing to her, and says “Watch this!”.
I like how in the first posting she slurs Democrats as having an “evil agenda” and being rife with “hypocrisy” as she represents a party whose concept of “family values” means starting a new one with your mistress once your current wife catches you cheating with them, but I digress. But as someone who does identify as walking within the liberal sphere, I do have to admit that the Democrats do have a stunningly evil agenda… well, to Republicans, and anyway.
The very idea of expecting employers to offer a living wage, granting access to truly affordable healthcare and advanced education, along with achieving the end goal of improving racial inclusivity, eradicating misogyny, homophobia, xenophobia, and the scourge of systematic racism? When one looks back, it’s amazing that we’ve been able to get away with promoting this malevolence for as long as we have. But as to the endemic hypocrisy Seawolf claims that she’s observed within the party’s dynamic?
Sheer. Unadulterated. Bulls**t At best.
Take heed that for decades, the phrase “My Body. My Choice”, was openly derided as sheer drivel by the very same people who are now, currently hiding underneath it in a blatantly transparent attempt to rationalize their abominably ignorantly blind selfishness. The major alteration in this reinterpretation by the party of disingenuous doublethink, are simple to spot.
In the original first version, it’s one person making the most agonizing choice they will ever have to decide for themselves, and that emotional weight will stay with and within them, for the rest of their lives. Only they alone are the ones to carry and suffer that burden. And as for the rest… well debatably, I think we can all agree it’s possibly the last thing these *double-K members usually say, just before they start throwing the groceries out of their cart in the middle of a Whole Foods, after being asked politely to wear a mask. But unlike the tragic yet solo borne yoke of the first situation, the actions of these self-important simpletons can have a ripple effect far past the awkwardness of becoming a viral video or meme. There is a mathematical term that indicates the overall contagiousness of a virus, known as the R0′ or R naught. In essence, this is the basic reproductive number of said virus.
An R0 above 1 for instance, means the patient will possibly on average, infect at least one other person. According to India’s Union Health Ministry Joint Secretary Lav Agarwal who based his clinical assessment off of a recent ICMR study, the current R0 for the coronavirus infection is somewhere between 1.5 and 4. Noting that “If we take the ‘R0’ to be 2.5 then one positive person can infect 406 people in 30 days, if the lockdown and social distancing measures are not in place, but if social exposure is reduced by 75 per cent then that one sick person will only be able to infect only 2.5 persons,”
For those of you double-K’s who still may not understand what this indicates, it means wear your damn mask, stay back six feet, and you don’t need a haircut or a burrito that bad, because on no level whatsoever, is this even remotely about you. You follow protocol to not only protect yourself, you follow it mainly to protect others. I’ll repeat the relevant section about following protocol, just so it sinks in- you follow it mainly to protect others.
If you’re still confused, raise your hands, and I’ll explain it to you using flash cards first, and if that fails to deter your ignorance, I’ll break out the hand puppets. In short, your decision to be a bunch of anti-masking morons puts all of us at risk, so you can shove that pro-life propaganda right up your ass. That is, if there’s any room left next to your head that’s been up there for decades. When it comes to dissecting the second posting however, we can see that on the topic of church being “essential”, Seawolf is as obsessed with pushing this false narrative as I am when telling my girlfriend of 12 years that I’ve never even thought about what she would look like dressed up as Wonder Woman, and have no need to see her in thigh-high boots. Or with a whip. Wrestling Milla Jovovich in a tub full of whipped cream.
But my birthday is coming up in seven months, and I am open to non-traditional gifts, so… just a thought, is all I’m saying here.
Nevertheless, while the houses of the willingly fleeced sheep are not essential as proven by their own mythos, the need for Planned Parenthood to stay open is beyond any form of reproach. Planned Parenthood offers a wide range of services, such as screenings for breast, cervical, testicular, and prostate cancer, birth control measures such as vasectomies, STD and HIV testing and treatment, vaccines, prenatal care, and transgender health services.
In addition, counseling services, and social programs backed by government funding and private health insurance are available, along with educators that provide breastfeeding and nutrition information for expectant parents.
They are also the nation’s largest provider of medically accurate sex education to communities at large. And as if that wasn’t nearly enough, Planned Parenthood offers tools for the digital age, such as “Spot On”, a tracker for birth control and menstrual cycles, “Roo”, described as a sexual health chatbot, and a free hotline operated by qualified sex educators, known as Chat/Text.
The unfortunate reality for the wannabe Uterus constabularies whose mythical sense of religious entitlement fuels their attempts to control other people’s bodies without prior permission being given willingly first, is this:
YOU DON’T HAVE THAT RIGHT. NOT NOW, NOR WILL YOU EVER, YOU SELF-RIGHTEOUS PACK OF BIBLE-FELLATING MOUTH-BREATHERS, SO FEEL FREE TO F**K OFF IN WHATEVER DIRECTION WILL HAVE YOU.
For as much as the Uterine Warriors want to cloud the issue at hand, the bogus slander that PP is nothing more than a 7-11 style baby murder mill is highly inaccurate at best. The average rate of abortions versus the other services Planned Parenthood offers is around three percent. And NONE of those are underwritten by the Federal government, due to the restrictions of the 1976 *Hyde Amendment, a legislative provision barring the use of federal funds to pay for abortions. unless the continuance of such will endanger the patient’s life, or if the pregnancy results from rape or incest.
Planned Parenthood’s public stance regarding this restrictive Amendment is stated as: “When insurance coverage provides for all pregnancy-related health care except abortion, it interferes with the private health decisions that are best left to a patient, their doctor, and their family. The Hyde Amendment is a dangerous and unfair policy that lets politicians interfere in people’s personal health care decisions.”
If you really want to call Truth to Power, the very same conservative Christians who oppose the basic tenets of a woman’s right to choose, are also seemingly against having either their taxes raised or federal money reallocated to underwrite the housing, feeding, clothing, and educational costs of those children they want saved, but don’t ever want to hear about again once they are. In reality, the most effective way to reduce the number of abortions is to adequately fund and promote sex education and contraception access, which just so happens to be opposed by most people of Faith, because… um…. God, I guess?
Sadly, for my newest BFF Ruth, if that’s the defense she decides to use, this next minor factoid is going to be somewhat awkward. She may ask why that is, and trust me, the answer is a doozy. Unfortunately, you’re not going to like it Ruth, as it seems your manufactured God does have a sense of humor after all. Hilariously, if you ever want to quote what the Bible says concerning the act of abortion, your audience is going to think you’re an ex-member of Mummenschanz, because regardless of translation, the Bible says NOTHING ABOUT THE ACT. At all.
In fact, the word “abortion” doesn’t appear even once. If one takes the time to study the 600 laws of Moses, there is not one that mentions abortion directly, or even circuitously, for that matter. The closest anything gets to such is to be found in Exodus. 21:22-25 which only addresses the topic of miscarriage: “If men strive, and hurt a woman with child, so that her fruit depart from her, and yet no mischief follow: he shall be surely punished, according as the woman’s husband will lay upon him; and he shall pay as the judges determine. And if any mischief follow, then thou shalt give life for life, Eye for eye, tooth for tooth, hand for hand, foot for foot, Burning for burning, wound for wound, stripe for stripe.”
Ironically Ruth, while the Bible does decree the death penalty for the act of murder, it has no set guidelines whatsoever regarding the act you like to claim God is so angry about. Weird, that. And before you go arguing semantics, as a rule of thumb, fetuses are not considered to be “viable”, that is, possessing the ability to live outside the womb, until after a minimal gestation period of twenty-four weeks. Infants birthed before this cutoff have an average survival rate of less than fifty percent.
Granted, there are cases of infants being born before the twenty-four-week ideal, but forty percent of these births see a far greater chance of suffering severe health issues for the long-term. However, their average survival rate generally falls between sixty and seventy percent. But if the carried infant manages to make the goal of twenty-seven-weeks before being born, its odds of dying go dramatically down, as does the possibility of experiencing longstanding health concerns. According to the Centers for Disease Control, abortions in the United States are generally performed early in the gestation cycle- over ninety percent taking place at the thirteen-week mark, an average of eight percent during the fourteen to twenty-week period, and the remainder (generally 1.2%) at twenty weeks plus.
And as for all those photos you’ve seen of “fetuses” pasted on the vile signs these morons like to harass total strangers outside Planned Parenthoods’ facilities with, they’re not entirely accurate. At thirteen weeks gestation, the, fetus is only as big as a lemon, and weighs about .81 ounces- hardly the fully-formed-babies’ images they like to pretend is this stage in the process. Developmentally, the organs are fully formed, red blood cells are being produced, and along with the skull, some of the larger bones, are beginning the process of hardening.
But it isn’t even remotely close to truly being a fully functioning human being, despite having some vital systems in place, as it still can’t survive outside the human body. And until it can do so, its termination is not murder, it’s a medical procedure, whether you believe it or not, like it or not, or fail to accept that your Faith has no heavenly precedent to forbid others from doing it.
Since we’re talking about science, I’d like to also point out that your standard in-vitro fertilization clinic disposes of more fertilized eggs than the output of all abortions combined, but I’ve yet to see any of these vaginal vigilantes protesting outside one of these places, oddly enough. I’m sure it has nothing to do with the factoid that those medical facilities that due to their prohibitive cost, find themselves catering to a financially stable demographic, rather than the poorer base that PP serves so honorably.
This, despite being under constant attack by hypocrites who have meltdowns every time they lose a court case asking for the ability to discriminate based on their religious beliefs. And to finally shut the door on this debate, my advice for you is quite literally, simplicity itself- you don’t like abortions? Then don’t f***ing have one.
See how I just freed up your weekends? Now, maybe you can take all that free time and actually stick your nose into the social problems that actually need and desire your input. I’d also suggest doing something about your living in an ivory tower passing judgements on strangers, but I’ll digress for the moment, as I have one last point of advice to add for the men on the frontlines of this issue, as if they have a right to be there- if you don’t have a uterus, you don’t get to have an opinion about what any woman does with hers.
Unless of course, you as a man, want to allow women whom will remain forever unknown to you, determining what you can do with your own spawn-hammer. In other words, where you can use it, when you can use it, and with whom you can use it.
Oh, and since the condition of pregnancy is half your responsibility my fellow men, you’ll be legally required to either get a vasectomy if you don’t want kids, or be forced to use condoms, whether you want to or not. Too far, in regards to your right to body autonomy you say? Too bad. Now you know exactly how women feel having you tell them what they should and shouldn’t do, so maybe you should sit this one out. And that, permanently. Oh, and Ruth? Thank you so much for coming to today’s TED talk. I doubt you learned anything, but it’s always nice to see all the chairs filled.
Moving forward, there’s a popular quote from the cinematic classic The Princess Bride, that goes “You keep using that word, I do not think it means what you think it means.”, and this can be applied to Seawolf’s oft-repeated utterances of “essential”, in relation to church attendance and services as if she were a parrot showing off, but what pray tell does that word actually mean? The definition as set by Miriam Webster is such: “Of, relating to, or constituting essence: inherent. Of the utmost importance: basic, indispensable, necessary.”
Given that modifier, I’m pretty sure it was never supposed to mean this fascist chattering:
That’s our so-called president “ordering” meat processing facilities to remain open, as if they actually require his permission to close, and as if the inability to purchase bacon would somehow bring this county to its knees. Ok, in retrospect, it just might, so let’s switch that bacon out for some bargain-basement lunch meat. The reason why these plants were closed was due to concerns regarding the overall access to PPE along with the general health and safety of the 4,913 workers who became infected with COVID, and in regards to the twenty who died from it.
What is truly and additionally repugnant however, is the glaringly obvious fact that despite the multiple fatalities suffered thus far and the exposure risk involved by making a large group of people unnecessarily travel during a pandemic, our mango Mussolini still thought it was a good idea to have 1100 cadets return to West Point, all so he could stage yet another masturbatory ego-stroke photo op for a tepidly received graduation speech that could have been hosted via Zoom.
The classification of what qualifies as essential is not broad. It’s exceedingly specific. When applied to the pandemic and who and what is vital to keep the American machine going, there are certain professions and businesses that can be closed outright, have restrictions put upon them, or see their services accessed online for the time being.
And while true that cosmetology and other grooming services can’t be internet based, they’re also an issue of vanity, not necessity. I for one, have made peace with my plague beard, and I advise others to do the same. You do know who and what are crucial though? Doctors, nurses, the field workers and farmers providing our sustenance, grocery stores, dentists, medical supply factories and their related industries, including medical testing facilities, and hospitals. Granted, this list is far from complete, but you get the gist of what I’m talking about.
But I will offer the following recommendations as to who is NOT “essential” in the short-term; these include and once again, are not limited to, coffee shops, all sports and exercise venues, bars, clubs, hairdressers, restaurants, shopping malls, schools, houses of worship, comic-book stores, movie theaters, massage parlors, yoga studios, art galleries, banks, and in Seawolf’s case, small-town real-estate agents and insurance brokers.
Anything you need, short of a new kidney, can be sent right to your doorstep, so stop complaining just because your roots are showing, you whiny pack of overprivileged Karens. And before you suggest that I’m anti-small business or people making a living, I’d point out that our government could easily freeze mortgages and utility bills, provide a guaranteed income for its citizens and offer solid financial protection for those businesses directly affected by having to close, but they deliberately choose not to do so, Why? Because the 1% whose obscene wealth is created a class they exploit and despise, don’t give a f**k about the working poor, and yes- it is that simple. Need proof?
Who was it asked, nay, demanded of, to be the guinea pigs in regards to returning things to “normal”? Not Jeff Bezos, or Bill Gates, nor Elon Musk, not any of the privileged who view the people of the world as truly expendable cogs in their machines. The very same people that they don’t want to provide with a living wage, but of whom they expect nothing less than an absolute and craven submission to their will alone, based on the fact that they put a vending machine or two inside their work/life balance sweatshops. When all is tabulated at the end of this nightmare of arrogance and incompetence, we as a society and if no more for the sake of a cultural adjustment, need to keep certain elements of what was once considered to be normal, and jettisoning the rest directly into the f**king Sun.
And if the cadre of our elected officials and community leaders dare chose to get in the way of this much-needed refurbishment, then I suggest that they all be on the next rocket, as soon as possible. And if you value your teeth being where they are currently placed inside your mouth, I’d suggest that you don’t start lecturing to me on how we need to reopen the schools either. Especially when the people who are meeting on how to accomplish this are doing so via FaceTime. If they can’t all meet in the same conference room to discuss their strategy, due to fears for their own health, I’m pretty damn sure that implies that where little Timmy and Susie are concerned, it isn’t safe for them either.
I noted earlier the unfounded persecution complex that most of these anti-maskers and so-called Christians suffer from, and when it comes to their consistent cosplaying of being a victim, I’m quite surprised they don’t travel with their own chalk outline, if only as a time-saver. When it comes to this delusion, Seawolf is no exception to this rule as we will see, far from it in fact, if I may be so bold. But when it’s combined with the inanity of a dedicated religious fervor based in fantasy, I’m not sure if it becomes funnier, or more pathetic to observe. Most likely, it’s both, so kudos for their ability to multitask, if for no other reason than to unintentionally amuse the rest of us. Here’s yet another example that I feel backs up my narrative, but I’ll let you judge for yourselves:
What’s my take away from this duo of combined density? Black humor, mostly. A sub-group of sub-people who bleat constantly that Liberals are Sheep who can’t think for themselves, Conservatives are the one demographic that seems to have the sharpest skillset at regurgitating the highest number of cut-and-pasted opinions, by far.
When it comes to posting online what personal views they supposedly hold so strongly, it’s always preceded by one of the following statements: “Taken from a friend’s page”, “Borrowed from a friend of mine”, “Written by a real Teacher / Cop / Doctor / Massage Therapist / Barista / True American Patriot / Wildebeest Shepard who lives in the Yucatan Peninsula”, or whatever the profession who’s credible opinion, based in fact that they’re trying so desperately to undermine.
Or as posted by Ruth, the original arms-length standby; “I didn’t write this, but I agree with it”. Essentially, this tells you two fairly obvious things right off the bat- one, they’re not smart or creative enough to communicate whatever pointless and typically false narrative they’re trying to infect the conversation with, and second- you’re about to see what a spin on the Wheel of Whataboutism game show would be like ion the QAnon Network, if they didn’t ascribe to the belief that pedophiles were in charge of those too.
Deep State paranoia? You bet it’s there! The implication that a slimy Cabal of Shadows is controlling all of our movements? Check! A completely unfounded conspiracy that must be in place because you’ve been asked to be mindful of others (as well as your own) health? Hell yes! Somehow incorporating non-related topics to the issue at hand such as golfing, dentist visits, and of course abortion, into the mix of your personal moronicness?
Let’s all scream Bingo for the brain-dead win!
Even given the fantastical ludicrousness of the first posting, our second contender nonetheless impresses me by miles with its revival-tent snake-oil self-absorbed hucksterism, and I’m going to tell you right now in case you haven’t guessed, I am a hard guy to impress. Just ask me sometime what I really thought of the 2003 film “What a Girl Wants” starring Amanda Bynes, and I will put several wrinkles in your previously crease-proof love for teen comedies forever. Or maybe you shouldn’t, come to think of it.
Speaking of thinking, let’s recap a few items that were mentioned earlier, before we dive into this upcoming moment of religious egomania. We’ve solidly established using Seawolf’s own social media postings and words, that she’s an alleged anti-masker, an allegedly arrogant Karen, and Christian hypocrite who openly supports a woefully vulgar demagogue who defecates on every value and principle she claims so haughtily to uphold. Not the best optics one should present to the world at large, but once again, I digress.
Amusingly however, that previous pile of puritanical putridness is about to grow a few inches taller after yet another decisive dissection of a belief system that at this point, can only be viewed as a severe case of Tourette’s Syndrome underwritten by tithing. But in order to do this religious pap smear true justice, we’ll have a bit of a throwback moment to the initial beginning of this screed assemblage known as Artbitch, when I used to go line-by-line through somebody’s inanity, and then feast on it like a plate of deep-fried Ding Dongs.
Since it’s been awhile since I’ve done this, I may be a tad bit rusty, but that only adds to the entertainment factor, does it not?
RDS: “100,000-240,000 projected to die in the next 2-4 weeks in America!”
AB: At the moment, it’s “only” over 170k dead and over 5M infected, which is far beyond any other countries pandemic rates, but as you gung-ho conservative types are so fond of noting: “WE’RE NUMBER ONE!”, so how about you show some of that patriotism you guys are always saying us Liberals lack, ok Ruth? And if you’re so truly concerned about people dying, then why won’t you listen to actual scientists and doctors, and WEAR A F***ING MASK LIKE A FUNCTIONING ADULT? Or just keep following the credo of “It is what it is”, as uttered by your orange calf.
RDS: “I read this and I just had to go into my spare room and cry out to God!”
AB: Well this is nice to see… Ruth finally took the lesson of Matthew 6:5-6 to heart! Granted, it was in her spare room, which if it’s anything like most peoples, is not only full of stuff that doesn’t fit in the garage, but is also the dusty repository for a never used treadmill and a hideously uncomfortable futon which doubles as a guest bed. Not exactly the best room to invite Jesus to hang out in with you, but baby steps and all that.
RDS: “Church of God we boldly need to take a stand and claim the blood of Jesus over our nation!”
AB: Um, a few minor things to point out if I may? It’s impossible for one to “take a stand” when the foundation of their faith is alleged to be based in hypocrisy, and as for the blood: A) I’m pretty certain Jesus is currently using all of his, and B) It’s bad enough we have COVID-19 falling out of the skies, so in relation to the said unavailable at the moment holy blood being cast “over our nation”, I’m sure none of us anywhere wants to experience a literal reenactment of the opening credit meat packing scene right out of “Blade” to no avail. Just saying.
RDS: “240,000 souls that could die without Jesus!
AB: I hate to be the one to break this to you Ruth, but save for the two individuals who were unlucky enough to score the reserved spots next to Jesus, nobody has ever died “with” Jesus. Plenty of us however, have had to die in the presence of morons who guilt the terminally ill to swear ironically undying allegiance to a petty and sociopathic deity. And this arrogance most certainly, will definitely find itself presented as a bragging point during the hour of hypocrisy they attend every Sunday. You know, it’s where they ask for forgiveness for their previous week’s sins, and come Monday, do the same crap all over again, knowing as long as they can get that last apology in before God collects them, they’re all good.
RDS: “I cried to a point where Cowboy had to come make sure I was ok!”
AB; First question I have here is this: who the heck is “Cowboy”? Your son? Your husband? Your emotional support tortoise? And If I may be so curt, isn’t it quite the faux pas to interrupt one’s private session with God? I might be a cynic, but even I won’t dare to interrupt anyone who’s having an involved conversation with the most important of their imaginary friends. After all, I wouldn’t want to be bothered when I’m having a thoughtful chat with my half-dolphin-half-Scottish-ferret spiritual guide who goes by the name of Blowhole McCullen, now would I? Of course not.
In fact, I’m even surprised you mentioned it. In essence, I just want you to know I support your commitment to expressing your unique emotional outbursts, even if certain others might allegedly classify them as symptomatic of a mental illness that as of yet, remains unnamed.
RDS: “There are souls going into eternity without Christ! We must stand on His word and His promises and pray that God destroy this virus! Destroy this panic! He said greater things than these shall you do! He was raising people from the dead! GREATER THINGS!!”
AB; Sigh… this one might actually give me an aneurysm, due to her inability to use punctuation as our lexicon dictates, but I said I’d do this, so let me do this. Souls do not require direction, as they are, if you believe in this sort of thing, going to go where they’re supposed to, and don’t require a tour guide, no matter if it knows where all the Sno-Cone stands are at or not. Also, how insane is it that you’re asking the very deity (once again if you believe in this claptrap) for his assistance in ending the plague that he deliberately hath wrought upon ye?
Let me put the valid concept of not asking for help in a way that even you can possibly understand, Ruth- Kirk never asked Khan, Sherlock Holmes never asks Professor Moriarty, Kiss never asks Metallica, Britney never dares ask Madonna, Captain America never asks the Red Skull, and Man, if he’s truly educated, never asks the mental illness masquerading as a mythical sky-daddy, either. You want to end this plague?
THEN WEAR A DAMN MASK, LISTEN TO ACTUAL SCIENTISTS, AND DON’T TAKE YOUR CUES FROM A 2000-YEAR-OLD BOOK OF ASININE FAIRY TALES FOR YOUR IMAGINARY REDEEMERS SAKE!
In reference to that last in all-caps statement of density, I’m not sure what I could do that’s “greater” than making sure total strangers don’t get deadly ill from the selfishness of the non-masking moron cult, but I’m fairly confident that happily sharing my four-cheese lasagna recipe with the world comes pretty damn close. And as for “raising the dead”?
Until the day l I see my favorite (and long-deceased) English teacher Bob Davis, telling others about the joy to be found in the writings of Kurt Vonnegut yet again, I’m going to remain a cynic and suggest dryly that when you have some free time, to go and get a CAT scan. Preferably, sooner than later.
RDS: “This does not have an expiration date as Pastor Todd Smith says! God have mercy on us!”
AB: Actually, that date has already passed quite some time ago, ever since Mankind came up with the concept of the Scientific Method, backed up by the dual principles of Reason and Logic. The best application of such in regards to the question of God’s existence was best summed up by George Carlin, the late American Comedian who said:
“Religion has actually convinced people that there’s an invisible man living in the sky who watches everything you do, every minute of every day. And the invisible man has a special list of ten things he does not want you to do. And if you do any of these ten things, he has a special place, full of fire and smoke and burning and torture and anguish, where he will send you to live and suffer and burn and choke and scream and cry forever and ever ’til the end of time… but He loves you!”
If the authorities caught any person doing such things to their fellow humans, they would throw them into a padded room, and throw away the only key. However, if there happens to be somebody preaching such inanity while they’re standing behind a pulpit, then you should not only slavishly worship the object of their delusion, you should also give them your money on a weekly basis, for some reason. For as Carlin also noted: ”He always needs money! He’s all-powerful, all-perfect, all-knowing, and all-wise, somehow just can’t handle money!”
But without a doubt, I’m pretty sure her Pastor can, and most likely with a skillset that would make Louis Tully from “Ghostbusters” genuflect in awe. [We so miss you, Rick Moranis] To be clear, I’m not implying in any way, shape or form that his church isn’t above-board, but I do find it interesting that she deigns to give his name top billing before God’s, which let’s face it, is just sort of weird, don’t you think? And as long as we’re on the subject of blindly following men of the cloth, I’d point out bluntly that such loyalty usually doesn’t end well for them, or to the benefit of their followers either.
Cases in point: Jimmy Swaggert (sex scandals), Jim Bakker (sex & fraud scandals), Ted Haggard (sex & drug scandals), Bill Gothard (alleged sexual assaults & molestations), Shoko Asahara (terrorism & murder), Tony Alamo (sexual abuse, child rape, pedophilia, & underage marriage), Bob Coy (alleged child rape, pornography & sex scandals) Doug Phillips (alleged sexual assault), Mark Driscoll (plagiarism, alleged emotional abusiveness, misogyny, & misusage of church funds) and possibly the most notorious example in recent times, Jim Jones, whose paranoiac obsessions led to the mass suicide of his congregation in 1978 Guyana.
So, I think the message I’m trying to convey here is that you should definitely choose your role models carefully, because otherwise, the only mercy you may be granted is not being in the line of their direct sight.
RDS: “We need to reach the lost!”
AB: Oh, just relax, Ruth. They/ll be fine. Almost every cellphone these days has Google Earth or some rudimentary form of GPS, so it’s not like they can’t find their way back, and besides, not all who wander are lost, and those people most definitely won’t be asking for your help. Ever.
RDS: “We can not let the enemy win with this virus! That’s what he is trying to do! Kill off people with no hope of salvation!”
AB: I have to admit, I find myself a tad bit lost here, so this maybe the only time Ruth could reach out and offer guidance. When you speak of this male “enemy”, who exactly, are you referring to? Donald Trump, whose egotistical incompetence has led our once-proud nation to the point of almost no return, Satan, who could come up with a much better plan, based on the fact that he literally thought up the Seven Deadly Sins while sitting in the loo, and who weirdly, is responsible for less deaths in the Bible (10) than God’s (estimated at 2.5M), so maybe your contempt should be directed squarely at your mythical God, who despite his being all-knowing, either somehow got caught with his robes down in relation to this, or more likely, allowed it to be set loose upon his most loved creations with nothing less than his full blessing.
That has just got to make the whole kissing his feet thing uncomfortable, if I were to hazard a guess. And as for the concept of salvation, if you’ve managed to live your life following even the most minor requirements of being a decent human being, you’ll never need to pray for it.
RDS: “Shutting down churches!”
AB: Yet again, you one-note apocalyptic pony, please refer to Matthew 6:5-6, and if you still don’t understand it, please go find an adult whose brain has not been converted into evangelical oatmeal to explain it you, using hand puppets if necessary. Oh, who am I kidding? It’s not only necessary, it’s also fairly obvious.
RDS: “We have the answer! The answer is Jesus!” ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
AB: If the answer is Jesus, what was the question asked? If it was “Who is the person that Christians worship, yet somehow have never learned the true lesson within his teachings?”, or maybe “Who do Christians use not only as a fallback rationalization for their marginalization and social rebuke of non-believers, claiming persecution for imagined slights, but also as justification for their sense of unfounded superiority?” , then yes, Jesus definitely is the “answer” you’ve been seeking.
If however, you’re in search of some form of guidance on which to base your personal moral code around, then let me save you plenty of worry, money and the hours you’d spend sleeping in on Sunday, by offering up the following one-size-fits-all spiritual T-shirt slogan and motto: TRY REALLY HARD NOT TO BE A DICK. See how easily that was to boil all the salvation sap down to an easily palatable tub of secular syrup?
Let’s glorify the best part, if we shall… if you do screw up, you can ALWAYS make amends, simply by apologizing, or doing something nice, or if you’re in the organized crime business, by hijacking a truck full of cigarettes, and then contritely gifting it to Nicky “Lettuce Lips” Scarlatina, who of course, will be more than happy to accept it at face value. And most likely, will then release all of your family members that he was holding hostage until you made good.
See? A far easier system to follow, hands down. All that aside, what I do love the most is the article she attached to this “Aren’t I a good Christian” back slapping exercise, that being a story where our Fanta Führer warns the country that he’s consistently and willingly betrayed since his first day in office that the next two weeks were going to be “tough”. Thank God that since he issued this uniformed utterance back in MARCH, things have only gotten easier, am I right?
Oh, wait… well, this just got awkward.
To be fair though, deprogramming somebody who believes in magical thinking would probably be akin to getting me clean in regards to my weekly Ding Dong habit, so I already have somewhat of an idea of how hard that would be to pull off successfully, especially considering this inane view of whom Seawolf thinks her collective of Faith is converting to her side. All my snarkiness aside, I literally had to have other people read these postings in this, the Year of our Great Discontent 2020, to make sure I had grasped the context of her postings correctly. Once again, in her own words, and with my sincerest apologies in advance, I offer yet another slice of WTF pie.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but it IS the year of our nonexistent Lord, 2020, right? We’ve been to the moon, we all carry Star Trek tech on our hips, some of which is being used right now for some of you currently reading this, and I can only assume that we’re all pretty confident in our belief that if we have gastric issues, its main cause will not be attributed to a spiteful dwarf living inside our stomachs, or so I would hope. And despite what some of us may have experienced with an ex or two, truly demonic possession is not a thing either, unless you’re factoring in what was wrong with whomever greenlit “The Kardashians” under the premise it was going to be riveting entertainment for the ages.
Notwithstanding that observation, I have to admit that the more I look around this woman’s dilapidated amusement park of a psyche, a place where all the rollercoaster rides seemingly have a definitive starting point, but no actual end in sight, it begs the singular question that I hope we’re all thinking of, which is this… “witches”? Seriously, what in the literal hell is freaking wrong with you lady, and why hasn’t anyone in your life bothered to stage an intervention regarding it yet? Last time I checked, witches and their works haven’t truly been a problem for the religious class of America since the days of Salem, and I also don’t recall them being a current cultural influence on the rest of us since the 1993 movie “Hocus Pocus”, and even then, that designation was played strictly for broad comic relief.
Given this information, I’m hard-pressed to think that people who ally themselves with the most powerful deity ever created by Man would have anything to fear from the one demographic more commonly depicted as a once a year decorative amusement, rather than as an organized army bent on usurping all that is good and pure in the known world, which to be brutally fair, says way more about organized religion than any woman who could supposedly fly by sitting on a broomstick.
That’s just my two cents of course, but I still have work to do, so let’s get right to it. Diving into this latest slice of insanity meringue using the previous method of going through it line by line, we’ll start with the batsh**t crazy opening sentence, which I feel, sets the tone perfectly.
RDS: “When a witch shows up to tell us that “OWIES” are being healed down the street during services…”
AB: Ok, there’s more than a few queries to be answered here- how do you know she’s a witch, exactly what “OWIES” are being “healed”, and where is this street on which miracles are taking place without anyone outside of you alone knowing? Did this “witch” show up looking like Margaret Hamilton in The Wizard of OZ, or as one of the suburban MILFs from The Witches of Eastwick?
And why would a servant of alleged evil bother to knock on a church door in the first place? Did she need to use the bathroom or borrow a cup of Holy Water for some dark reason? Not gonna lie, I am so curious in regards to this. And what precisely does Seawolf consider an “OWIE”? Cancer? Blindness? Diphtheria? Sunburn? Severe paper cuts? Rockin’ Pneumonia and the Boogie Woogie Flu? All good candidates, I’m sure.
Isn’t it weird though, that every time one of these Jesus simps talks about these dubious miracles being performed, they’re also oddly unable to provide any credible proof of it? No real witnesses, no cellphone videos, no official statements from doctors, nothing at all. Zip. Zilch. Nada. But we do have their word, so apparently, that’s all we need to accept these fantasies without any form of evidence at all, which seems to be their gold standard for claims like this. And you most definitely never hear about them going to the hospital using the power of Christ they alone can harness to “heal” the sick, but I’m sure that’s next on their to-do list.
Fortunately, they’re not still raising the dead like they were so fond of doing in the past, Because I for one, couldn’t even imagine how forced the conversation would be if you found yourself sitting next to that reanimated relative you always hated in church. It’d be awkward at best, I’d think.
RDS: “…and the music is penetrating the walls of homes until even the old people are happy… “
AB: Sorry, but I have to call bullspit on this assertion. First, if your music is “penetrating” random homes, nobody inside, regardless of their age, is going to be happy, because outside of some specific hits by long-dead classical composers, 94% of religious music is the worst mélange of pure outright garbage. Because let’s be honest here, the term “Christian rock” is an oxymoron at best, save for the late 80’s Christian metal hair band Stryper, who, could actually indeed make the walls of Jericho come a tumblin’ down.
As the classic joke about them goes; “All other hair bands: Let’s write songs about girls and getting wasted! Stryper: Can you please hold our Bibles for an hour or two? We’ve got a wholesome show to go and play”. If you truly want to make everybody happy who lives around your church Ruth, lay off the God stuff, and host a local taco truck night. Those at least, I’d be more than happy to swallow.
RDS: “… it’s time to go another night 🔥 REVIVAL AT 6:30PM! INTERCESSION AT 5:15PM”
AB: No, it really isn’t, given the fact you’ve been ranting about witches and claiming miracles are happening before people’s eyes, but for whatever strange reason, are unable to correctly apply the technology of recordability. If anything, it’s a very clear indicator that you need a very long nap, aided by some or maybe even several, forms of psychotropic medication. And while I really don’t want to call attention to what I consider your truly unique grasp of sentence structure and its obvious love for exclamation points, shouldn’t the intercession be listed before the revival? I only say this because it comes first, just like how you’ve placed your imaginary friend before reality.
Not to mention, why does the intercession take forty-five minutes? How long does it take to either issue forth a group prayer or counsel somebody regarding their admission to a non-sin? This right here, is why church is so boring to most of us. Just call us sinners, drop the musical numbers, rail about topics that don’t affect our lives at all, pass the collection plate for your pastor to skim his take out of, and call it twenty minutes, so we can get home in time to crack a beer, eat some wings, and watch some football.
Sigh…. But we’re not quite out of Crazytown just yet, because unfortunately, there’s yet one more tourist stop to drop in on, and I’d at least like to have a T-shirt from this place as a remainder as to why I never want to visit here again. Order number two is up, and just like the first slice, it’s probably way easier to digest if you grant yourself the gift of getting drunk first, as this time around she’s fire-emojied up and using all-caps!
RDS: ”WHEN THE GLORY OF GOD SNATCHES PEOPLE OFF THE STREET…”
AB: Ruth? That’s called kidnapping, no matter who you are or what your glory status is. Unless of course, you’re Trump’s secret police squad.
RDS: “… AND INTO THE REVIVAL SERVICE TO GET RADICALLY SAVED AND BAPTIZED IN WATER 🔥 …”
AB: Well, this is just great. It’s not enough that I’ve been kidnapped, but now I have to listen to a self-righteous twat pimp out Jesus as if he were soap, who’s then going to make me go bobbing for Bibles. Look, I appreciate a wild time as much as the next guy, but until you get some Asian punk-rocker strippers wearing thigh-high boots and fishnet stockings to serve as your Deacons, I’m going to take a hard pass on your ever-so-gracious enticement.
RDS: “… AND WITCHES ARE INQUIRING ABOUT THE SERVICES…”
AB: Oh, my sweet dear Ruth, no they’re not. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. And if a self-declared witch does show up at one of your bland as mayonnaise ego-stroking services, it’s probably based on the thinnest of hopes that there will be free cake. But despite my harsh assessments, I really don’t want there to be any true animosity between us. just because you strike me as someone that future university classes may discuss in what most might consider a teaching moment of sorts, so I suggest that you and I engage in a bonding exercise. Trust me-it’ll be fun.
Please repeat after me, follower of the mythical Nazarene; “There are no such things as Witches, at least not in the way Christians describe them, and when all is said and done, I’m going to go seek intensive therapy for both my paranoid and idiotic delusions regarding personal boogiemen, and also for my worship of a fictional sky-daddy zombie.” Admit it… don’t you feel so much better? Now we can go have a nice lunch, and I won’t have to feel at all embarrassed about being seen in public with you.
RDS: “… ITS TIME TO GO ANOTHER NIGHT! REVIVAL SERVICE TUESDAY AT 6:30 PM 🔥”
AB: This may be the only correct thing you’ve said thus far, Ruth- it IS time to go another night, mainly because nobody wants to do jack on a Tuesday, and definitely not at 6:30 pm. Hell, they just got off work at 5, or worse- spent all day at home, lounging around in yoga pants, and now thanks to an obligation that’s pointless at best, the men will have to shave their plague beard, brush their teeth, and the women will be forced to do their hair, put on makeup, and find an outfit that’s suitable to listen to clueless diatribes in. All of this by the way, right after they prepare dinner and get their spawn ready, if they have any. Man, oh man… is that a fun way to spend your free time or what?
I’m opting for “what”, BTW.
Sigh… 19,781 words in, and I still haven’t even begun to scratch the clearcoat off this pile of lunacy, but as we are in the home stretch with the bases loaded, please bear with me just a little bit longer, won’t you? Now, if there’s one quality I might be able to admire about Seawolf, it’s that she’s quite the vocal cheerleader for the assortment of local businesses here in Silver City, and that’s something I think anyone imbued with even the smallest sense of hometown pride could get behind, given the importance of such to our ongoing economic stability.
It’s kind of a conundrum when you look at it from a commerce POV- I love that we’re not big enough to attract big-box stores, but every now and then, I would seriously kill a thousand Ewoks to have at least one good Greek restaurant and a Target, just saying. Oh, who am I kidding? I’d kill a thousand Ewoks regardless, just for the fact that those bug-eyed furry bastards creep me the hell out. That aside, Seawolf still manages somehow to even curdle the purest of hometown milk by once again, using her personal bully pulpit to whine pointlessly over the most trivial of issues.
Wait a minute, you say… “Don’t you make a living and a relaxing hobby out of complaining about everything under the sun?” Come to think of it, why yes… yes, I do. However, the crucial difference here is that I’m writing a blog on a website designed for the promotion of myself, and I’m not doing any of it while under the pretense of being a community booster. Here’s the deal- I live to complain. I love to bitch. I approach grousing with the dedication of an Olympic athlete. But even I know when and where to pick my battles, truth be told.
However, Seawolf seems to lack that particular trait when it comes to critique, and also thinks that her truly captive audience wants to hear it as well. I’m pretty sure they don’t, but it’s not like they have a range of options open to them, when it gets right down to it.
Granted, this isn’t anything new from our local Karen-in-grief, but even I would like to think she has to get sick and tired of playing victim every now and then. If she does, that feeling clearly hasn’t solidified just yet, as her own words prove. For the majority of us, if we get accidentally overcharged, or some poor minimum wage slave gets our order wrong, we typically just ask for a refund, and a replacement, as the odds are in favor of it being an honest mistake, versus an insidious plot by incompetent service to separate the trustingly naive public from their hard-earned buck-eighty-five, or in Seawolf’s case, twenty percent of whatever she paid for whatever she originally ordered.
The absolute horror of it all. Now, depending on where you’re eating out here, a gratuity may be automatically added to your order, as some of these establishments are only offering either curbside or drive-up service, due to the current pandemic. Realistically, mistakes can and will happen. Especially when you get someone who starts asking for substitutions in the drive-thru, which as we all know, is one of the most goddamn annoying things a customer can do. If you have to ask for more than one item to be pulled off your sandwich, either call ahead, go inside, or get a new f**king favorite, you damn human roadblock.
The other six cars waiting on your privileged ass behind you understand this concept, why in the heck don’t you? And the last time I checked, if you’re an actual functioning adult, you don’t “have to” do anything you don’t want to do in the first place. Oh, you poor soul, you “had” to eat a ham sandwich instead of what you wanted- I can only imagine how truly riveting the movie they’d make regarding your unfathomable experience would be. It literally took more time for you to pull out your phone or turn on your laptop to write out this complaint Ruth, than it would have taken for you to drag your butt out to your car, call the place en route, get your order corrected, and return home.
Because seriously, everything out here is within 20 minutes of your house, no matter where you live. It’s Silver City, not Dallas, for Pete’s sake, and if you had tried to guilt them just right, you might have also scored yourself a free cookie or a partial discount, the way any red-blooded American would have tried to. Next time, make a mental note to double-check your order before you leave, and if you won’t do that, then learn to cook, and free up a space in the drive thru for the rest of us who aren’t prone to throwing temper tantrums.
I can’t help but appreciate the failure of subtlety in how she suggests who it is without directly saying who it is, because “business is tough for everyone right now”, but this act of supposed given grace of hers is just more of her disingenuous bullspit, since the description of said business limits the choices available. As noted, it’s a very small town, to the point where once, when our local movie theater had their credit card reader go offline, they asked everybody who wasn’t paying cash, to write down their name, so they could send them a reminder to pay after they got it back up and running, in a day or so.
Think about that for a second- my town literally runs on the Honor system at times, and Seawolf has the cojones to accuse a business of “deceit” because of an obviously honest mistake. Or maybe, just maybe, she’s stumbled upon an unknown international fraud ring, carving out its territory within the world of organized crime, using only its cabal of sandwich shops and their acquisition of vast wealth via ill-gotten tips.
What a cunning plan. If it’s the shop I think it is, then her slur would be doubly insulting, as it was one of many local businesses that gave back to the community through direct action at the beginning phase of the COVID-19 crisis, which is one of the many reasons I eat there regularly. That, and the food/service/owners are the freaking bomb. What’s truly hypocritical about Seawolf’s embarrassingly public and passive-aggressive bitch-post however, is this- she was also one of the most ardent supporters of Jalisco’s Café during their flagrant health code violation *spree, as recalled earlier in my narrative.
So, no matter how you view it, Seawolf is allegedly A-OK with a restaurant openly breaking the law by willingly disrespecting the state-mandated pandemic health protocol and hosting a cadre of racist morons known as the Cowboys for Trump, but being accidentally overcharged and eating an unwanted ham sandwich of her own volition deserves a public drubbing? What an interesting hill to die on. Her moral ambiguity aside, of course. Not to mention Ruth, if they have truly indeed “lost your business”, due to (in your eyes) their unforgivably grievous transgression, why not just come right out and name them anyway? I’m pretty sure I know why.
Maybe it isn’t your faux concern for it being “tough out there”, but more along the lines of that since this is such a small town, you don’t want to have one less place where you can stuff your ignorant maw without the credible worry of reproach? Plus, as a businesswoman yourself, you wouldn’t want to possibly alienate a potential real estate/insurance client, or any of their associates, now do you? Nah. It couldn’t possibly be that transparently simple, could it?
One further observation about the palace of “deceit” that Seawolf will most definitely find herself visiting yet again despite her protestations? If it’s the place I assume it to be, they once served me a BLT that was so damn good, I failed to notice until halfway through my eating it, that there were no “T’s” on the sandwich. Did I freak out? Did I go online and whine about my mislaid tomatoes? Of course, I didn’t, because I’m not three-years old, and as I said, mistakes happen. Plus, when I laughingly told them about it, I could totally see why Seawolf was so put out, for they not only offered up a sincere apology, they also offered to make me another sandwich.
Another sandwich? With double the bacon? The nerve of those unbelievable bastards!
I’ll admit, it’s kind of hard not to feel some sympathy for Seawolf when you look at her situation with neutral eyes- she not only believes in the concept of witches existing as physical entities, but that a mythical sky-daddy-zombie is going to grant her a set of wings to fly among clouds for eternity as well. Let’s be brutally honest here. If we allow ourselves to be, that is.
If a total stranger came up to you and started spouting off about omnipotent beings using their “glory” to snatch people off the street as they demanded accounts from people following the law, that “OWIES” were being miraculously healed, as witches showed up en masse demanding entrance to their private parties, all while ranting about having to eat an unwanted ham sandwich, you’d locate whatever loose change you had in your pockets, chuck it at their head, and run for your goddamn life.
Feel free to acknowledge inarguably, that on this one at least, you know I’m 100% right. Persecution, or the imaginary threat of it, seems to be one of the most centralized themes percolating within Seawolf’s life, mainly where her faith is concerned, but as we shall see in this, yet even more aspects of a Rorschach test made flesh, this sense of malingering martyrdom extends into the what should be the most normalized aspect of her existence as well.
However, there’s an unexpected plot twist, because this time around, it’s not only the ungodly heathens (yours truly included) that are going after just the faith she uses as cover, they’re allegedly coming (yours truly NOT included) after her physical safety too, and trust me, her claim will only get stranger as we travel along this not even remotely mellow schtick road.
It was once told to me during one of those three-in-the-morning therapy sessions we’ve all had at least once in our lives, that no matter their outward attitude, everybody has some form of emotional baggage. Some have fanny-packs, others valises, quite a few possess steamer trunks, and a select few… well, they own the entire luggage shop to begin with.
I’m not suggesting Seawolf ranks as one of these outwardly bitchy as hell Baronesses of baggage, but if a bellboy could be singularly employed for the rest of their life, she’d be the most stable employer they could ever hope to find, in my humble opinion. Because this particular pit of paranoia is somewhat deeper than all her previous commentary combined, I’ll be breaking this down into as many palatable chunks as I can, because I’ve about had my fill of this gout-inducing Peyton Place passion play, and I’m afraid if I spend any more energy on it, I’ll be forced to dive once more into the breach, except this time, I’d remain on the bottom by choice, for allowing myself to think this sort of mind-set should be publicized past the pale. From her statement:
RDS: “I would like to clarify my actions within the past few weeks. One of the main reasons I decided to keep this page “non-political” was because of threats, hate messages, and even hate mail and other serious threats to my person.”
AB: Before I snark, let me make one thing crystal clear- threats of physical violence are an unacceptable reaction to what somebody may say, may think, or may do, unless said actions being undertaken are themselves ironically, threatening physical violence. That behavior addressed, messages and other missives criticizing or even mocking you are not “threats”, and never have been.
A threat is defined as; “a statement of an intention to inflict pain, injury, damage, or other hostile action on someone in retribution for something done or not done.” Legally, unless the meaning of such actions or words falls under this purview, it does not meet the criteria, even if you think it should. Standard disagreement and dissension is not to be classified as a threat, for not only is it to be expected, it’s crucial to moving the metaphorical goalposts forward. And in most cases when I’ve seen a political post on this page Ruth, it either emanates from you or is a direct result of one of your postings, as I will allude to near the end of this tale. And as to the need to use the word “threats” twice? Well, that’s just bad grammar, but we can work on that.
RDS: “Several people have been removed from this group for those very reasons, but people don’t know what happens behind the scenes on this page. I have been called every name in the book by people who have never met me or taken the time to know me. I have been pre judged because of my strong viewpoints and beliefs. I can deal with that. Everyone has a right to either like or dislike a person for whatever reason they choose. People who claim so much love and tolerance are the worst ones in this hate Ruth Seawolf campaign.”
AB: Wow. Not only is the Pot calling the Kettle black, it’s doing it without any sense of irony whatsoever. The hypocritical Christian who will talk about the love that Jesus offers openly, yet who called for law officials to be held to account before her mythical God, the Karen who bitched about her selfish spawn being denied entry to a private business for not following a common sense policy, the sanctimonious pro-lifer who thinks that her uninformed opinions should influence a strangers right to body autonomy, and the small business supporter who just had to go online and vaguebook publicly her horror at having to eat an undesired ham sandwich, is stunned by the fact that even though she’s never met them, some people by using nothing more substantial than her words and actions, have made a judgement call and decided that they really don’t like her.
I can’t for the life of me, even begin to wonder why that is. I do have a theory though, and it is this: how you decide to present yourself to the world at large, is how the denizens of it will naturally assume you must be. Whether that unique assessment is accurate or erroneous is truly irrelevant, if all you seemingly do is validate that public perception to no end. Some personal perspective, if I may be so open for a moment?
I do know what pure Hate is. I have been both its victim of it and at times, its begrudging advocate. And due to a long history of publicly voicing and writing about my point of view, I’ve experienced what can happen when a mob mentality takes hold of otherwise rational people. There’s a reason why I always have a weapon on me, and at times, will still look inside my car before I enter it, but it’s not built on a sense of paranoia, but on past interactions with those who were far less mentally stable than I.
But even given all this, I’ll have to call bullspit yet again on Seawolf’s abuse of over-dramatic license. With all due respect Ruth, you think you’re important or influential enough to be the target of an organized “campaign”? Good sociopathic God, get over yourself already, lady. I’m a raging narcissist, and even I, at the height of my infamy in Phoenix knew my detractors were only not organized, the majority wouldn’t know what to do if they found themselves alone with me.
And I’m 100% certain that if one of your so-called haters found themselves in the same room with you, they’d wonder aloud as to who allowed you to enter it in the first place. And as an aside, no… I really don’t think you could “deal with that”.
RDS: “Again let them. I stand by what I believe and if that angers or scares others so be it. The threat now is that they are going to take every member from this page and start their own, one filled with love and tolerance, because of my actions two days ago. Let me explain. You can disagree with me all you want, you can hate me all you want, bash and belittle me all you want on other pages in the name of love and tolerance BUT WHEN YOU BRING IN MY FAMILY I WILL NOT TOLERATE IT!! This is exactly what this man did. Because I wouldn’t allow him and many who threatened me to take down the Police Rally post because in their eyes it is political, he got on here at 2am, thinking I wouldn’t see it on time to bash and belittle my husband! I will defend my family to no end! My husband doesn’t even have a Facebook page!”
AB: Ok. There’s some stuff to unpack here, and a good chunk of it should probably go see a mental healthcare professional, sooner than later, if its schedule allows for such downtime. I hardly think somebody creating a competing page constitutes any form of credible threat, and if all your followers jump off your metaphorical ship, I would take it as a supreme moment to engage in some somber self-reflection as to why they did, if anything. I will also yet again, point out that if you are receiving consistent threats to your physical safety that could be taken seriously, and you know exactly who is behind them, you should probably be in visible contact with the police, rather than waste your time griping about it on Facebook, or noting pointlessly that your husband isn’t even on the platform.
And given the incident rate in regards to acts of police brutality sadly occurring all over this country at the moment, that pro-cops posting was never going to be seen as anything but political- your willing naivete to its impact aside. You made a bad call, and you got tagged for it. That alone shouldn’t have devolved into threats regarding your family, but I seriously doubt that every response to your support of an unwarranted and tone-deaf assembly could be evaluated as a rallying battle cry for the mounting of your head on a pike.
RDS: “My husband has no fault here. So he can go cry on other pages, along with others on how I removed him/them from the group and never say the true reason. There is a reason why everyone that has been removed from this group has been removed, and trust me, its not because they don’t agree with me. There are many in the group now I do not agree with in any way, shape, or form, yet they remain. There are always two sides to a story, no one see the messages and threats I receive. For those who do know me personally, and choose to support me and this page, thank you. Take the time to truly know people, take the hate blinders off because of a religious or political stance you don’t see eye to eye on and really get to know someone! You may find you can actually get along with them! The snake was left inside my centerpiece in my backyard, five feet off the ground on top of my outdoor bar and the lovely postcard was mailed to my home as a fear tactic!! We are not dealing with nice people!! The back of the postcard is worse!!”
AB: Would you please all excuse me for a moment? [Turns off laptop, sits back, takes a deep breath, laughs ass off for five minutes, turns laptop back on, takes a few more seconds to compose himself as it boots up, and starts typing again…] I’m ever so sorry, I just needed some “me time” for a few minutes there, but I’m back now, and it’s all good. The more I read Ruth’s amateur victim statement, the more I understand why she rubs people in the same way that a sandpaper prophylactic might. I only say “might” because I met more than a few people back in my former hedonistic days who would actually look forward to that sort of thing.
I don’t judge- different pokes for different folks, and all that. But this? Oh, man, am I ever going to go off regarding this steaming pile of self-important and wholly paranoiac bunkum. First, let’s tackle the non-venomous, completely harmless, and native-to-this-area snake that was “left” in Seawolf’s yard as a directed threat in yet another manifested fever dream in which Seawolf is being targeted (in her own words) as part of an organized “hate Ruth Seawolf campaign”. To clarify, I could somewhat believe in the possibility that physical threats might have been made, I could believe in the fact that jeering and vulgar messages might have been sent, and if she had stated that acts of consistent and escalating vandalism upon her businesses, personal property and home were occurring, then even I would grudgingly admit that there may be something to the melodrama she’s been passing off as commentary.
I won’t dare speak for you, but if there was a noticeable groundswell of people in my community who openly hated me to the point that I was truly worried about me and my family’s personal safety, I’d have to take a moment to see if I was into something that was very right, or doing something very wrong in order to deserve it. And I say this from several personal experiences of such in regards to my writing career. Whereas I’ve always been open to debating or defending my POV if need be, Seawolf seems incapable of doing the same, unless she can have a convenient scapegoat lined up to take the well-deserved fall in her stead.
Most people faced with such a wave of alleged hateful critique, might give serious pause as to why this is, but it must be comforting to decide, and without proof no less, that you bear none of the responsibility for the production of such venom in the first place. However, I have to confess that the plot twist of atheistic liberals being the bad guys is a refreshing change of pace, given the fact that it seems most modern-day Christian pro-lifers are seemingly the ones who want you dead.
I only say that because of how they protest mask protocol, assistance programs for the poor, legal protections for the LGBTQ community, and support a sociopathic deity who at one point, slaughtered his own creations, because they weren’t kissing his ass enough for his taste. But this loony snake-as-a-threat fantasy is an overreach, even given Seawolf’s obsessive worship of a zombie who when not practicing the art of personal reanimation, does carpentry on the side. With no due respect Ruth, this isn’t a movie, and you are so not Jane Bond. If there does exist a person or group of persons who wish you harm, they’re going to besiege you with a rational act (so-called) of open violence, and not a plot point lifted straight out of 1973’s “Live and let Die”, or the 1979 epic cheese-fest known as “Moonraker”.
Ironically, both films starring the late Roger Moore. That’s a weird coinky-dink, if I do say so myself, and I do. I have to seriously doubt, as do more than a few others in this town, that some random and unknown person intent on skullduggery, trapped a native snake, bagged it, managed to find your house in the dead of night unnoticed by either your neighbors or their dogs, and using an aim possessed only by the great Sandy Koufax, accomplished their intent of landing said reptile squarely in the middle of your backyards’ hooch house. I like to consider myself at times as quite Machiavellian, but even I think this would be far too much work for the sake of making a simple point to a sad shell of a person whom I feel, is immune to logic very much in the same way that a mongoose is to cobra venom.
And the fact you felt the need to openly brag about killing an innocent animal for no other reason than that it dared upset your suburban existence, just reinforces my personal belief that you’re a goddamn overly paranoid twit,
With that off the formerly occupied-by-a-snake table, let’s discuss the anti-Trump postcard, whose message on the back you described as being “worse!!”. I suspect that this claim is not true in the slightest, because of your neglecting to describe with any detail of note, as to what the tone of the message was to begin with. This in turn, seems really out of character, given your need to broadcast the frequency with which you receive all of these alleged threats. So, what was written on the back that you found so distasteful?
I only ask, because out of the number of times that I’ve seen this exact same card posted online within various sub-political groups and threads by its unhappy recipients, the message it contains has been one of the following: acidic quotes by Shakespeare, sporadically clever word play, comments straight from the Fanta Fascist himself, and on occasion, an evaluation by the dispatcher of said card regarding the receivers perceived intelligence.
But still, never has there been a trace of vulgarity, incoherence, or more importantly- a perceptible threat. And that’s regardless of where the cards are being mailed from, be it California, New Mexico, Toronto, Chicago, or Kansas City, to name a few noted points of origin. Now, if the odds are in favor that nothing on the card might (or would) be considered a viable menace of any sort, why didn’t you just show or describe what was said? My current working theory is that if you did, successfully playing the sad victim of cruel fate yet again wouldn’t be at all possible for you to do, now would it?
Now, and not too surprisingly, Seawolf seemingly represents the demographic that really hates it when you deflate their pity-party balloons by the use of either a structured debate, or managing to weaponize their own postings against them, as I’ve been doing with hers throughout this screed.
Fortunately for me, the internet has not only a quirky sense of humor, but an excellent sense of recall as well. You know who really doesn’t, though? The truly disingenuous, that’s who. And as they are driven by a baseless narcissistic agenda, they tend to willingly forget that not everybody buys their side-show snake-oil wholesale. Where am I going with this, you ask? What would you say if I told you that not only do I know for a fact what the message on the card actually was, versus Seawolf’s highly inaccurate remembrance of it, I could prove so beyond any doubt?
I knew you would be, so before I show you how that trick is done, let’s say I suggest a gentleman’s wager first. The stakes are thus- if Seawolf’s depiction turns out to be true, I’ll pay for her next non-ham-based-take-out meal from a local restaurant that doesn’t dare think about practicing deceit in regards to tipping, and even if they do, I’ll be the one paying, so who cares? And if I emerge the victor, she only has to buy me either a 12-pack of Cinnamon Coke or a box of Ding Dongs. Either/or. I’m really not that picky. It’s more the principle of the thing, than anything else.
Here’s the funny bit- while she didn’t feel the need to post an image of the cards’ backside on her bully pulpit, using the false excuse that it was “worse!!”, she happily did so on the page of one of her fawning sycophants, where she probably assumed nobody would connect the dots of her disingenuity. But as is my habit, I did, and I tells ya, I love it when my scratching posts do all the heavy lifting for me. And as for the loyal little toady whom Seawolf publicly confided in? They’ may also be getting an inclusion in an upcoming piece as well, because I’m all about spreading the honey, if only to know how thrilled she’ll be to read it when I’m done with the writing of it.
Call me crazy, but I’m starting to think there’s going to be a lot of open dinner invitations on the schedule in the weeks ahead. So, let’s all have a good look at the “worse!!” message that Seawolf received. But I suggest you brace yourself first, for it contains what is considered by many Trumpeters and faux Christians alike to be one of the most virulent strategies that us agenda-driven Libtard Demorats always fall back on when corned by the Right’s use of propaganda, conspiracy theories, and Whataboutism.
I am naturally of course, referring to these annoying things that are known far and wide by those whose intellects still work as “undeniable facts”. And the main one that presents itself by this photo, is that Seawolf is allegedly either a cravenly dissembler, or far too oversensitive to the concept of Reality. Feel free to make your own decision.
Man, I am shaken to the core of my entire being by this photo. And I can totally understand why this probably caused Seawolf to start speaking in tongues. The chutzpah it took to actually tell the truth regarding the human toll this corrupt administration has taken upon America? Whomever presented these undeniable facts to Seawolf is clearly one black-hearted SOB, on loan from Hell itself. This deserved sarcastic swipe aside, the only way that anybody could dismissively deign this accurate missive as “worse!!”, is if they literally had their brain removed, and replaced with a spoiled cabbage.
How exactly, is this “worse!!”? Granted, every time you’re exposed to new information, it should force an ill-informed idea right out of your head, but it’s not like you’re going to lose your ability to do basic math, for Christ’s sakes. Heck, this message seems almost quaint, considering that the total number of dead have tripled since this card was mailed, and the infected among us now number in the millions. But please, don’t let your willing ignorance stop you from boarding your hovercraft of hypocrisy yet again Ruth. After all, who am I to interfere with the alleged falsehoods that seem to give your life a sense of purpose? And when it comes to eternally grave penalties for not telling the truth, I’m sure you’ll be fine. After all, it’s not like your mythical deity has a steadfast rule in place about that sort of thing, other than the 8th commandment that is, but don’t worry- I’m certain that there has to be some wiggle-room for one of his most special lambs.
Especially one who undeniably believes that we’re all born into sin because, and I say this with a straight face, several thousand years ago, a woman who was led astray by a talking snake, was cast out from a utopian garden paradise along with her partner, whose rib she was created from, no less- all because she ate an apple that had been calculatingly placed in her path by a supreme being, who because of his omnipotence, knew what was going to happen beforehand. And in an ironic twist, was also creatively responsible for the talking snake, which seems like a really bad design flaw to place inside the Matrix.
What a fortunate coincidence however, that if you apologize and beg forgiveness of the very same deity that gave you that sense of flawed free-will in the first place, you can be absolved of your transgressions, huh Ruth? I bet you get to utilize that loophole a lot more often than you’d care to admit in church. Hold the phone… now that I look at it, if this is what Seawolf truly does believe, then her alleged actions, self-absorbed and paranoid as they appear to be, start making a lot of sense. Personally, they strike me as nonsensical at best, but isn’t that the nucleus of all brilliantly unintended comedy?
In closing out this ever-so-action-packed-if-not-wordy screed, I’d like to present for your perusal two last postings by Seawolf that I found truly amusing. If you’d allow me to do so, that is. Oh heck, you’ve come this far, you’ll come with me to the bitter end, I’m sure. The first, announced on the very same page where she posted her image of the “worse!!” postcards back, was the declaration that not only that she “knew’ what “idiot” had sent it, but that she “was working with the police” no less, in regards to it.
In a weird twist, it turns out that her sycophantic BFF had also received a card as well, which just goes to prove that for all their talk about being joyously united in conservative solidarity, they really don’t like it when they’re included in the righteous critique of it. Call me a cynic, but I have serious doubts that any of the thirty-one police officers who serve and protect my 10k person town are approaching her concerns over the last three months with quite the same dogged fervor that San Francisco’s detective squad applied to the case of the Zodiac, but I digress. If anything, they probably play “whose turn is it to deal with her this time?” whenever she calls or walks in.
Could she have filed a police report? Sure. People do it every day, for a multitude of reasons, whether the need to do so is valid or not. But after all, this isn’t Chicago, and most definitely doesn’t play out as an episode of CSI, either. I’m not entirely sure what lengths Seawolf thinks our local constabularies will go to seek resolution without a credible pattern and imminent threat of violence attached. To start with, the areas covered by the “Rio Grande District” postmark are in all possibility, not even within their legal jurisdiction to pursue, and as most snail mail tends to be typically handled by multiple persons both in and out of the postal system, dusting for useful fingerprints would be about as beneficial as putting a nun in charge of arranging a bachelor party.
Now, unless being informed to the reality of things that are obvious to everyone else has become a major felony as of late, which it has not, I’m fairly confident that you’re just going to have to make peace with the fact that a notable chunk of your immediate community dislikes you. And it’s most likely displayed with the same level of enjoyment that Microsoft displays whenever Apple brings up *Zune, or in return, Bill Gates happens to reference Apple’s **Newton product line. That’s just my personal observation, of course. Take it as you wish, with however much salt you require to make it appetizing to you.
*[ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Zune] **[ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Apple_Newton]
As to the second and thankfully last sliver of paranoia I’m going to address, it seems that along with vague-booking her assertions of personal threats online, our misunderstood heroine also maintains an obsessive list of the people that she believes are working at direct odds against her, as evidenced by this screencap taken from the bully pulpit she’s claimed repeatedly to be “non-political”. This, as I’ve shown using her own media postings, is a laughable avowal, and only serves as further proof of Seawolf’s disingenuity to that which is obvious to the rest of us. It’s not having a different set of opinions that’s the origin of certain people’s loathing for you Ruth, it’s your combination of willful ignorance and the anxiously hypocritical grasping at consistently playing the victim that does. And while I have no idea if I’m already or about to be placed on that list, I’d be flattered just to be nominated for such an inclusive honorarium, if the rules allow for me to toot my own horn.
When one factors in Seawolf’s alleged need to publicly display her conceivably invented drama, I have no idea why it is that if she has amassed such a trove of credible proof in regards to all these “threats” she supposedly receives, how come she hasn’t guaranteed her future safety by naming the names, and letting those small-town political chips fall where they may? Heck, I do it all the time, and the euphoric rush I get from exposing the most ignorant who slither among us to daylight is undeniably worth the hate directed my way, and that without question.
So, I have to ask, why has there not been any intensive police outreach asking the general public for information? And in a town so small, where everyone knows what you bought at Walmart before you even tell them, why have none of these alleged threats become a topic of local gossip? If she’s not going to present this gleaned knowledge in order to nullify those who are “spewing hatred” as she puts it, then what is the motivation for her keeping such an ersatz enemies list in the first place? For reinforcing the justification of her speculative opinions, perhaps? And yes, I do see the irony in specifically directing criticism towards a person who’s been claiming that there’s an organized “campaign” of worrying threats targeting them, but for the love of Mike, give me a damn break already.
I have, and still do at times, experience threats that range from serious cyberattacks to outright attempts at physical intimidation, and even I don’t keep a list of who’s behind these cowardly coercions, unless I know that I can get a good story out of it. But no matter what fact-based tale I’ve inscribed here, it still can’t compete with the overly polished and thinner-than-veneer oeuvre that Seawolf has utilized thus far in order to buoy up her contradictory stance in regards to her version of reality as she sees it.
In her purest essence, she’s a supporter of the police and one would assume, in favor of the law and order they represent, yet she also believes that its morally permissible for businesses to openly violate crucial public health mandates, as she posts tediously that those in law enforcement implementing the very same be held “to account” in front of her mythical and wholly sociopathic, deity. She’s a “Christian” who feigns concern for the souls that are “lost”, but won’t acquiesce to wearing a mask to keep those souls from becoming migratory in the first place. She touts opening houses of worship as essential, but ignorantly does so at the cost of her fellow parishioners’ lives and health, and against the clearly defined will of the very Word she claims to follow.
She allegedly bears not a trace of false witness, yet derides the blinding accuracy of what many people say about her, and proudly sings the praises of a failed president who when not sitting atop his own mountain of lies, commits solo acts of fraud, racism, misogyny, xenophobia, and incompetent malignancy so stunningly vile that even her imaginary god does an hourly face-palm out of frustration. She lauds the virtues of the local business community, but who in her next breath, will slip into full-on Karen mode, as she vaguebooks decisively petty clues as to who it was that dared make an honest mistake where her inconvenience was concerned.
And last, but certainly not least, she’s the virtuous victim of a lurking cabal of organized haters who, rather than just come right out and openly challenge her face-to-face, opted to go instead for a tactical strategy that even the notorious James Bond adversary Ernst Stavro Blofeld would regard as far too fantastically ludicrous to be enacted. And keep in mind, his minions once thought that killing 007 on a cruise ship with a set of fiery shiskabobs, wielded by a no less than fabulously gay assassin by the name of Mr. Kidd, was going to work.
Sadly, and quite literally, Kidd becomes even more flaming in death, as Bond cleverly eliminates him using only a splash of Courvoisier on the flaming skewers, setting him ablaze. Although this is spectacularly visual, his expiry falls far short of his recently bereaved partner Mr. Wint, whom Bond slays with the aid of a bomb hidden in a laughably fake cake, which Bond then somehow improbably ties to Wint’s coat-tails, along with his hands. He then tosses the said rogue overboard, and the bomb explodes, killing him several feet above the water. This of course, attracts no true public interest or attention whatsoever, and yet, this scene is still far more believable than any of Seawolf’s declared dramady thus far.
But don’t worry about her in the long run. She’ll be fine, because she not only walks side by side with the most powerful being in all of Creation, she also believes that he’ll lovingly shield her from the challenges and harshness of whatever tribulations she may eventually have to face, because that’s what he does.
Now, if he could only have done something about that unwanted ham sandwich…
Man, that was a long one, was it not? I feel like I just ran a marathon. On my tongue. Over glass. While juggling a flaming cat. I may even have to take a break of sorts. But don’t fret, for there’s still more fun to come in the span ahead when I return, as I’ll be introducing you to a brand-new gaggle of truly colorful people whose unique point of view deserves no less than being shared with the world entire.
The upcoming screeds will feature a man who can obsessively post about “BLM”, but fails to understand what it represents and why it’s in no way a terrorist organization, despite his conviction that it exists solely to legitimize discrimination against the white race, and two woman who separate of each other, have combined racism, ignorance, a stunning lack of research, conspiracy theories, and unhinged paranoia into unintended comedy, and it’s sheer gold for the ages, let me tell you.
“A person’s character is shown through their actions in life, NOT where they sit on Sunday.” – Navonne Johns