Categories
The Game of Life

Fuck Me

My depression has lessened after some nifty behind-the-scenes work with my doctor and while I may not be constantly sad anymore, I’m now a daily molten volcano of hatred and rage.

If it’s not my country’s knack for slaughtering unarmed minorities by the dozen, it’s one of the four dumbass sports franchises I’ve committed 28 years of pointless ego preening for the express purpose of miming a gambling addiction minus actual wagers or the physical dependency.

If Joe Manchin isn’t skull-fucking our shot at securing a path to the ballot box for myself and the over 10 million fellow Georgians impacted by Brian Kemp’s latest voting roll purge, Joe Biden’s telling angry BIPOC to not wreck poor Target’s Downtown Center locations because vIoLeNcE iS NeVeR tHe AnSwEr (unless you’re George Zimmerman, Darren Wilson, Daniel Pantaleo, Derek Chauvin, a horde of QAnon Neanderthals seeking to murder the now-former Vice President of the United States of America, etc).

Hey, look, they’re gonna end the war in Afghanistan…again!

Student loans are…….still fucking here!

I’m stuck in a dead-end job I STILL hate!

Twitter just banned me for calling the bow-tied neo-Nazi most-watched-cable-“news-anchor”-in-America gallstone Tucker Carlson a redneck!

I’m staying up till six in the morning!

No, seriously, the meds ARE working, I assure you (maybe).

In the meantime, I await the knockout dose of the Pfizer vax in this motherpfucker.

I’d be on Twitter but @jack apparently can’t allow a menace with 20 followers to bully poor wittle Twucker Cryarlson, so I’m posting this next piece for the writing portfolio that will no doubt land me a true writing gig at a respectable publication/online clickbait farm.

Holy fucking fuck, I’m maybe not doing too great. Then again, a year at home shockingly isn’t helping matters.

Crazy, right?

Who knew crippling debt against the backdrop of the single-worst health crisis in generations could lay waste to one’s mind with such wind and precision?

My neck and upper back might finally be turning into hardened jello-ey fat after hunching at the computer/on the couch/in my former office chair from the pre-work-from-home days, and lemme just say, it’s a fucking pain in the neck! Bwahahahaha

Oh, kids, I’ve got nothing here. I’m running on vapors.

Fuck it all.

Categories
The Game of Life

Cautious Optimism or Dry Despair: My Brain After a Year of Fear

I didn’t mean to run away from the blog for a month and a half, I swear!

After Inauguration Day, I sat in despair watching the GQP/Trumplican Incel Alliance wage war on Joe Biden and competent governance for the crime of attempting to wrestle away the controls from the man-children pissing and shitting themselves over first the impeachment, and then Doctor Seuss.

It’s like 2020 never ended.

That is, until I got scheduled for my first dose of the vaccine.

After a year of cowering in the confines of my home with my parents and dog, I’m now planning a future.

Remember that wedding I mentioned in the very first post on this blog when it was still This Site Has No Name?

Clearly, that got delayed, but it’s now far enough away where, vaccines permitting, I should be more than protected by that late-summer weekend.

I’m gonna go to LA Fitness if my father recovers from non-Corona infections he’s been fighting for about a week now.

I’m gonna go see my doctor again! My dentist! My eye doctor!

I might even see a few other specialists!

In person!

Like, is this for real? Is this allowed????

Are we actually turning a corner?

My favorite writer posted a piece about not being sure how to feel now that things are progressively returning to normal again. On the one hand, assholes will still be assholes. But on the other, the government is working again.

The President (mostly) delivered on his promise to inject a stimulus into the economy and the bank accounts of millions of us little people to where economists are ecstatic about the future. More importantly, his 100 million vaccine doses in 100 days goal will be surpassed on Day 60 of his administration’s first term.

60.

That motherfucker from before had literally FOUR YEARS to build a useless fence on the Southern border and he didn’t even finish a third of it!

Meanwhile, sLeEpY JoE got his big bill passed – without bipartisan votes mind you – in 51 fucking days.

We have competence again!

True, he managed to bomb some people in Syria and watched helplessly as his own party shat on the minimum wage hike he included into the overall bill while scaling back the amount of families that would receive the $1400 checks (that should be $2000 if we’re being honest with ourselves), and yet those concessions pale in comparison to the sheer amount of victories secured with this bill’s passage.

All of this feels so strange.

I honestly don’t know what to think. Sure, I’m pissed about Joe Manchin being a poison-pill ratfucker of a human being but then again, there’s a chance he might do some good.

In the meantime, Georgia QAnon Party quacks just gutted early and mail-in voting provisions they passed back in the days when they simply locked in step with a chicken-hawk war criminal president and his legion of oil-greedy toadies. They’re directly assaulting my preferred method of voting since my college days.

Yet somehow, I’m unfazed.

I know that deep down, we’re turning the corner. Society woke up in 2020 in ways that mirror Pandora opening the box instead of a deaf elderly dog stirring awake for a good two seconds before silently retreating back into deep slumber.

The future is nowhere near rosy enough to be stridently optimistic, but the clouds are lifting.

Now, if my depression could just soften by like a good 50%, that would be ideal.

It’s a sharp contrast within my personal life seeing as I find myself stuck in the same way I described over one year ago on New Year’s Day 2020.

This job I’m toiling away at still angers me, drains my spirit, and consigns my mood to a thick lake of charred disappointment with my station in life.

I have more money than I did before, but only because I’ve stopped paying my student loans in a desperate gamble that Biden will deliver his lofty campaign promise of canceling $10,000 of federal student loan debt, the less popular of the two loan cancelation proposals floating around the Democratic caucus. Either act would negate the remainder of my FAFSA commitments and thus free me to plan a future beyond living in my parents’ proverbial basement (My room’s on the top floor, I’m not a philistine for G-d’s sakes).

Dating has been a no-go since the NBA/NHL/MLB shutdowns. The one chance encounter I enjoyed a couple weeks into 2020 resembles more a teenage fantasy than a real-life memory.

Aside from Mom and Dad, I’ve seen zero friends or loved ones in person since at least the first week of January.

All in all, life kinda fucking sucks at the moment. I’m fairly certain my medicinal regime of about a decade is no longer working, and am awaiting test results that will either confirm or deny my suspicions.

I’ve had some strange health worries that I’ve been more or less putting off out of fear of the big bad virus, and my doctor’s pretty pissed at me for doing so.

I’m not going until that second dose settles and coats my insides with ‘Rona-be-Gone for two weeks.

But, maybe I’ll schedule some appointments then.

I don’t know, but I’m pretty down. In spite of the world returning in plodding yet monumental fashion, my life still feels like a shell of what it used to be.

Will that change after the pandemic is over?

I wish I knew.

Categories
Politics

Never Again

Can we even celebrate?

Like, are we allowed to be happy that the worst president to exist loses his job today and slithers back to his swampland mansion while he awaits the arrival of the biblical flood waters of lawsuits set to cascade down from the karmic skies above?

The day I marked in my mental calendar is finally here, yet I’m not sure any amount of self-indulgence on my part will properly convey the message I’m aiming for here.

What I can say is that after six agonizing years of this maniac menacing our airwaves, our Twitter feeds, and our thoughts, it’s a fucking mechayeh to be rid of him.

And he’s not coming back.

Members of Cult 45 assure us he’ll be president – some even suggesting that the government is keeping Trump in office right now with the help from the plot of a Nic Cage movie. Or in, um, slightly less insane fashion, he’ll come back stronger than ever and retake the White House in 2024, jUsT yOu LiBs wAiT.

He’s not, but hold your sighs of relief.

America’s darkest years were borne through a festering, malignant cataclysm that metastasized uninterrupted for decades under the shady canopies of our political discourse. The years of US-sponsored upheaval in the Middle East, South America, the Caribbean, etc. boomeranged upon our shores in the form of MAGA. With a little help from our dearest old friends out east, our own tactics became the instruments of our dark descent into the present dilemma we now face.

Division, delusion, destitution, disruption, destruction.

It’s all the worst ills we exported turned inward.

The chickens finally roosted.

The taste of our own medicine is choking us into oblivion.

And yet, it’s not too late.

By the time you read this, the country will likely be back on the road to recovery. Transformational reforms progressives spent years fighting to enact will indeed be given life. We’ll even get new stimuluses soon, even if they aren’t quite what was promised a fortnight ago.

No, Joe Biden isn’t ending poverty or redistributing wealth anytime soon.

But it’s a start.

Far more desperately needs doing. We as a nation must reconcile with the fact that our government is broken and disturbingly susceptible to the basest forms of cronyism and fascism.

I mean, Jesus, 74 million people wanted this never-ending B slasher film to KEEP GOING.

400,000 people dead from COVID-19 couldn’t sway these delusional saps from egging on the serial murderer we let steal migrant children and imprison them in concentration camps.

THAT LAST SENTENCE HAPPENED.

FOR FOUR YEARS.

It’s bleak, man.

We can’t pretend that Biden being the man in charge now somehow instantly ends Trumpism and dampens the ambitions of its emboldened acolytes.

They’re insurgents fighting a civil war fueled by conspiracy theories and white supremacist victimhood.

It’s not over.

Surviving COVID is priority one but as of yet, the plague of unbridled institutional racism aided and abetted by our education system, federal and state statutes, and craven conservative scoundrels (including some Democrats) continues infecting the public consciousness at its very roots. Society’s whitewashing of reality is literally killing us, its effects on depressingly-public display with each hollow call for “unity” and “forgiveness”.

We failed abroad, and we failed here in our own backyards.

Refusing to bring up touchy subjects for fear of alienating friends and loved ones erupted into the Pompei-esque hellscape we witnessed two weeks ago.

Never again can we avoid our nation’s demons. Because the next time they storm the Capitol, they might just win.

That Martin Luther King quote about the arc of history wasn’t the Reverend’s guarantee that in the end, the good guys always win.

It was encouragement to keep fighting for justice.

We’ve made strides, but the dream is very much unfulfilled.

Today is day one of the rest of our lives.

Make it fucking count.

Categories
Football Sports

¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Have you ever had that feeling when you know something is going to stay the same but you hold out just the tiniest, teensiest, most minuscule little modicum of an iota of a hope that THIS time, things may finally get better? Like, the law averages will work in your favor as opposed to the 9 million times before?

For instance, when your favorite sports team drives the same shitty 1997 Camry that’s barely survived on the freeway despite it’s battered engine, fucked up suspension, and 161,000 miles that’s beaten it into a faded rusted out hunk of shit that’s one wrong turn from crumbling into dust? And instead of trading in the dumbass car for a brand-new, current, from-this-century model that can handle the conditions of modern-day driving, they change the transmission to a slightly newer formula praying that the damn engine doesn’t cook itself and kills the power steering in the middle of making a left turn while trying to beat the oncoming traffic??

Because that’s absolutely what I’m thinking as reports trickle out that general manager Ryan Pace and head coach Matt Nagy are both coming back for another season in Chicago.

WHY on the memories of Sayers, Payton, and Halas I thought NOW would somehow be different, I have absolutely no idea. But one would think after getting pantsed on Nickelodeon of all places that maybe, perchance, your team finally wakes up out of its decades-long hibernation and kicks some asses to the curb.

But, alas, you’re a Bears fan.

Your team doesn’t get the concept of wanting more than being a perpetual disappointment. A roster chock-full of all-pro defenders, a couple of offensive weapons, and the remainder filled out by undrafted free agents, long-past-their-prime vets with bodies held together by Silly Putty and spare tape from the training table – helmed by the same generic-ass Mitch or Kyle or Jay or Rex or like three different Jims, a Shane, and three seconds of a Kordell.

It’s been this way since the end of 1987 at least. Every 5-7 years, a group has an inspiring 11-5, 12-4, or the odd 13-3 season, storms into the playoffs with homefield advantage, and either through being totally outgunned, helmed by the wrong guy in the wrong place at the wrong time, or sheer shitty luck, they lose. The season ends, they miss the playoffs the next year, and then the team spirals back into the center of mediocrity.

Surprising as it may seem, the Bears are rarely a straight up top-10-in-the-draft dogshit Covid-ridden grease fire. The worst it gets is 7-9, something they’ve done 7 times since the NFL installed the 16-game schedule in 1978. In that same amount of time, they’ve gone 9-7 three times, and 8-8 five times, the same record they’ve now had for two years straight under Nagy.

All in all, it’s typical.

Sprinkle in a handful of 11-5’s and 10-6’s, and you’d think this team had won at least one Super Bowl since 1985.

Another hilarious sign of this current regime’s impeccable mediocrity shows itself in one strange little stat: Points Differential, or the difference between the amount of points the Bears offense scored versus the number of points surrendered by the defense.

Three times in Bears history did the team finish with more points scored than allowed by a single-digit margin: 1951, 1977, and 1993 (2, 2, 4 respectively).

The 2020 Bears finished with a Points Differential of 2, something they hadn’t done in 27 years.

I guess it’s an improvement from the PD of -18 of 2019, but that’s irrelevant.

For a regime to generate any confidence, the ideal trajectory of a team would be to go from a 12-4 surprise season to maybe dropping as low as 10-6 before rebounding and winning 11-13 games.

Two years later, and it’s two eight and fucking eights.

Khalil Mack.

Eddie Jackson.

Kyle Fuller.

Akiem Hicks.

Roquan Smith.

Danny Trevathan.

These guys are good. Like, really fucking GOOD.

You have just two of these players on your defense and you’re bound to win at least 10 games…..provided you have an offense that isn’t an old Toyota Camry submerged in the middle of Lake Michigan.

As NFL offenses go, the fucking Edmund Fitzgerald shows more promise than this heap of shit.

Sure, David Montgomery rushed for over 1,000 yards and Allen Robinson notched 1,250 receiving yards.

Aside from rookie slot receiver Darnell Mooney, there’s nothing to be excited about this offense. Hamstrung by Mitchell Trubisky and the festering cadaver of former Super Bowl MVP Nick Foles, the Bears’ more than capable D does all the lifting, heavy and otherwise.

There’s one more piece of this shit puzzle that really ties this whole thing together, however.

Back in 2017, Ryan Pace had $63 million of cap space to work with. In 2018 when Matt Nagy arrived, Pace quickly put that space to use by signing Allen Robinson, Taylor Gabriel, Trey Burton and Cody Parkey (doinkety-doink!). Aside from that grievous last signing, these players all contributed an upgrade to the Bears’ fortunes. The cherry on top came in the form of Khalil Mack. The massive trade and corresponding contract extension instantly vaulted the Bears into overnight contenders, storming through the league that year with a 12-4 run into the Wild Card round against the Eagles.

Then, well, doinkety-doink.

Damn, that sucked. Oh, well, we’ve got Mack! We’ve got a stud in the making in Roquan Smith! Trubisky looked better (note: he absolutely did not look better but I was comforting my fragile mind at the time).

We’ll be just fine!

NARRATOR: They were NOT just fine.

The 8-8 crash back down to earth prompted the Bears to make more moves prior to the 2020 season. Part of their struggles in 2019 were due to the offensive line profusely sucking its own dick, allowing 45 sacks and committing 47 offensive penalties. In 2018, blindside blocker Charles Leno committed six penalties total: 5 false starts, 1 offensive hold and 1 illegal formation. The next year, he doubled that number to 12 penalties total. 7 offensive holds, 3 false starts, 2 illegal use of hands and 1 ineligible downfield receiver (because sure, why not commit the most random fucking foul you can?!).

On top of their lack of professional starting-caliber depth and the loss of long-time right guard Kyle Long, Ryan Pace didn’t sign a single offensive lineman until weeks before OTAs in August.

Nor did he draft any offensive linemen until the 7th round.

On top of not improving the O-line, Ryan Pace had another issue to take care of: re-signing star wideout Allen Robinson to an extension. Robinson wanted $20 million a year, but the Bears wouldn’t budge from their desire to pay just 15-17 million.

At the time, the Bears had around $5.5 million in cap room before cutting some players to create some space, including two of Pace’s big signings from back in 2018 – Trey Burton and Taylor Gabriel. They’d go on to cut long-time guy-just-waiting-for-his-big-break Leonard Floyd to free up even more cap space. With this newfound freedom, Pace did the smartest thing a GM of a middling franchise could choose to do when trying to put on the tourniquet and stop the bleeding.

He pissed away his money.

First, he signed Jimmy Graham’s 34-year-old busted ass to a two-year, $16 million deal, $9m guaranteed. Then, he dropped $70 million on the recently-rebounded pass rusher Robert Quinn, strengthening a position that frankly could have been improved with picking a much younger and therefore much cheaper rookie to replace the departed Floyd. Quinn’s cap hit is $14.7 million a year.

And then to finalize Pace’s summer of stupidity, he made the best worst-decision I’ve seen in some years. Thanks to Nagy’s lost trust in his titty-kissing QB, the Bears traded a compensatory fourth-round pick to the Jacksonville Jaguars for Big Dick Nick Foles. Along with his reportedly massive schlong, Chicago also inherited his ludicrous $6.6 million a year cap hit.

In Graham, Quinn, and Foles, Pace committed a combined $31.2 million.

31.2 MILLION.

ON. THREE. GUYS.

PAST. THEIR. FUCKING. PRIMES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

……………………………………………………………….

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

*writer rebooting*

*beep-boop-bee-doop-doop*

………………………………………………………………………………

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………………

Bravo, dingus!!!!!

As a final fuck you to Allen Robinson, Pace extended Tarik Cohen’s contract right before said running back tore the shit out of his ACL in Week 3 at Atlanta.

The Bears never worked out an extension with Robinson, and he’s now let it be known that he’s more than likely getting the fuck out of this hellhole the moment he gets the offer he’s been looking for.

It’s more than worth noting that Robinson expressed his desire to not only remain a Bear for life, but to become one of the all-time greats in franchise history.

So, Ryan Pace rewarded his dedication by fucking around and disgruntling the only worthwhile player on this godforsaken offense. Oh, AND as of this writing, the Bears are projected to be around $187,000 over the salary cap with only 35 out of a total possible 53 players under contract.

And thus, here we find our unlovable dillweeds walking blindfolded into busy traffic. They’ll be ripped apart and splattered into a million pieces, obliterating any chance to finally turn away the tide of generations of suckage.

If only Mitch really was a young Drew fucking Brees.

Categories
2020 Election Politics

Next Time, Don’t Elect the Nazi

I spent an hour pacing around my room ranting and raving out loud. Screaming to myself in the shower, I parsed through the past four years we as a country have all endured. And now that I’m ready to put it all in blog form, I have no idea what the hell I want to actually say.

I blame Clarissa Explains It All.

I must have watched reruns because the show’s last season happened when I was a toddler, but I’ve been talking to myself like a main character in a sitcom out of habit for the majority of my life. It’s me thinking out loud, which is nothing special. How I assume most people think silently within the confines of their own heads, I do the same – only I talk aloud as if I’m conversing with a friend.

If I had a dollar for every time my parents asked me who I was talking to on the phone, I’d be Jeff Bezos.

After nearly three decades on this planet, I’ve yet to really come to terms with the sheer ignorance of the world in spite of practically every bit of information you could ever dream of being available on every laptop and smartphone and tablet with Wi-Fi.

For example, did you know that there’s an entire library of medical journals you can readily access on a whim? Hundreds of thousands of peer reviewed CONCRETE, SCIENTIFIC, FACTUAL DATA just sitting there free of charge, no account needed whatsoever?

Just think about this for a second, please. We have legions of self-styled experts out here telling us shit like the Covid vaccine is a Satanist conspiracy when you can read the ACTUAL STUDIES undertaken by the makers of the vaccines. No one is stopping you from logging onto the National Library of Medicine, typing in “Covid vaccine” and pulling up an honest-to-G-d scientific article detailing the development and methodology behind the making of the vaccine.

And it’s not just vaccines. You can find studies on the effects of phytoestrogens within Australian sheep from the 1940s! Australia! Like, dead-ass down-under-shrimp-on-the-barbie-in-the-outback Australia (I saw the sheep thing in a YouTube video, OK? Quarantine’s weird for all of us).

So, with oodles of historical texts, archived information, textbooks, encyclopedias, etc. all out there waiting for you to click on the link, what in the name of Christ compels people to believe demagogues and dictators and wannabe-Nazis? What is it about human nature that prevents a segment of our species to just accept the world and the reality we live in without resorting to pure fantasy as a way to convince yourself you are always right and never possibly capable of a lapse in judgement or reason?

In the quaint days of 2012, the original year (in the 21st century) that everything was supposed to end, a feverish backlash sprouted out from so-called “forgotten America” – people from small towns abandoned by the liberal elites and the Washington establishment. Pundits across cable news channels tried to explain how these tax-hating patriots of the Tea Party movement were seemingly always connected to some form of racist shitbaggery and white supremacy with the most cynical of excuses.

Economic anxiety.

In other words the Teabaggers were so afraid for their pocketbooks, they felt the need to hang the first Black president in effigy while spreading the bald-faced lie that he was a secret Kenyan Muslim and occasional homosexual who somehow consulted a radical America-hating pastor for regular spiritual guidance. You know, a Christian pastor. A.K.A. NOT a Muslim.

To no one’s surprise, an influential figure throughout this budding political movement was none other than our 45th President and current number-one threat to our national security.

Trump tweeted conspiracies about everyone from Barack Obama to Kristen Stewart. He lodged scathing attacks against the then-current administration for not being pro-America enough. As we’d come to learn, Trump’s idea of loving America apparently means sexually assaulting the flag whenever possible.

He stoked anti-liberal fears for years before running for president in 2015.

And from the very start, it got super racist super fast.

Before you knew it, anti-immigrant trolls banned together under the Trump name. Anti-Semites regularly endorsed him (sometimes twice!). Islamophobes and homophobes and for some reason people unhealthily obsessed with pedophiles clamored to his mish-mash psycho campaign. They bought his schtick from day one, proudly running around the country with red armbands in red-hat form.

Make America Great Again, they said.

Great how? Good question. There was no one answer…other than conveniently circling back around to white supremacy and fascist perversions of reality – like calling any news coverage painting Trump in a negative light as “fake news”.

Fun fact: Adolf Hitler had a similar thing he’d say. Lügenpresse, or “lying press”.

Trump regularly winked to the crowd when making suggestions like Second Amendment enthusiasts could take shots at his opponent if she dared to introduce legislation to “take their guns”.

His campaign peddled anti-Semitic tropes while he praised modern-day authoritarians and his supporters threatened to kill their perceived enemies. “Enemies” being people who didn’t unnervingly worship at the altar of Trump à la the Hebrews and the Golden Calf.

Pretty quickly, the cult became more boisterous, and soon the mob mentality started to become more visible.

The hatred grew more blatant – fostering a disdain for minorities as the central tenet of the MAGA Cult.

And thanks to a lukewarm opposition, rampant cynicism and distrust from an electorate long tuned out from the news of the day, and a farcical electoral system, the demagogue “outsider” became the political establishment.

All the talks of draining the swamp manifested in the non-stop succession of swamp creatures appointed to federal office all over our government. From Russian spies to oil lobbyists, billionaire elitists to full-throated xenophobes, white nationalists to literal opponents of civil rights, it was a parade of horribles. Real-life Creatures from the Black Lagoon. Cartoonishly evil caricatures missing only sinister facial hair and menacing laughter.

Gradually, and not very subtly, these miscreants hopped on the bullshit train Trump rode to the Oval Office. They excoriated reporters and ostracized critics, ginned up the minions of Cult 45 to threaten and even attack journalists online and in person.

And it only got worse.

Every new press secretary willing to stand on live television and unashamedly twist and distort reality to fit an insane narrative. An army of surrogates parroting utter garbage on any news channel willing to entertain them. The cycle never changed.

Time was a flat circle.

And by the time the scandals started flooding in, it became like a new reality show every week. First, it was the Russian collusion. Next, it was paying off porn stars. Then, Ivanka using the office to benefit her fashion line. The Twitter rants, the wall, the trade war with China, the near-actual war with North Korea, his National Security Adviser pleading guilty of lying to the FBI, his campaign manager going to jail, his former personal lawyer going to jail, a bunch of motherfuckers associated with the campaign going to jail…

And then Ukraine. The “perfect phone call”. “WITCHHUNT” tweets at 5am.

The impeachment.

The pandemic.

Pulling out of the World Health Organization.

Destroying the U.S. Postal Service.

Lying about Biden.

Lying about Bernie.

Lying about everything.

And then, he lost.

He LOST.

Like, the election!

For REAL!

After the concentration camps, kids in cages, targeting women of color in Congress, the Bible photo-op beatdown, all of the fucking mail-in ballot histrionics, and it was all for nothing.

HE LOST!!!!!!!!!!!!

And yet, 10 days until the end of this unyielding nightmare, we’re not sure if the new president will even be sworn in without a civil war erupting.

We’re at the finish line of the marathon.

Too bad it’s the finish line of the Boston Marathon.

We’re not even five days removed from the outright terrorism that was committed at the Capitol in the name of Trump, and already the sycophants are obfuscating the truth behind what we all saw with our very own eyes on live fucking television.

The President of the United States goading his mob and inciting them into attacking the United States Congress, but still top Republicans won’t send him down the river.

Conveniently after four years of either complicit silence or outright defense for his actions, a handful of current GOP lawmakers and officials are saying it’s time’s up for the Terrorist-in-Chief.

Meanwhile, two of the top architects of the failed coup continue their ride on the Trump Train to the permanent destruction of their reputations as being anything but a couple of spineless wannabe-fascists groveling to inherit the undying adoration of his seditious band of insurgents ahead of 2024.

It’s all too much.

It’s fucking overwhelming.

Four years.

FOUR YEARS OF THIS FUCKERY.

What makes this all the more infuriating is how fucking obvious all of this was back when President Trump was still Citizen Trump and therefore not in possession of the nuclear launch codes.

All of the bully-pulpit grandstanding buffoonery was the attention-getter for all of those who watched. But those of us with an idea of how quickly this sort of thing can go South saw the writing on the wall long before designating journalists as the “true enemy of the people”. We saw the Nazism being echoed by his campaign.

The uber-religious mimicry.

The ceaseless deification of not only a flawed man, but an outright monster.

The religious right gospelizing the ground he waddled on.

The stupid fucking perma-scowl.

The obsession with toughness, strength, and pandering to the military.

It was all so painfully obvious.

But the problem in a country like America is when you haven’t had brownshirts ripping your loved ones out of your homes and shooting them like dogs in the street, you don’t know what that type of evil looks like.

Racists tend to miss an obvious prejudice detector thanks to a narrow definition of what “racism” actually is. To these folks, if you don’t say the literal N-word or equivalent racial/ethnic slurs, then you can’t possibly be a racist.

You can blame lazy people on welfare, foreign criminals sneaking into the country, and conniving Hollywood bigwigs controlling the “liberal” media (even if said media was all too happy to cover Orange Hitler’s every speech for two whole years). But as long as the magic words n****r, s*** and kike don’t leave your mouth, you’re just making valid points!

Our lack of nuanced education of what fascism is and how it operates led us to this crisis. Like WarGames, the best move was to never play the game at all.

But now that we’re in the bottom of the 9th with two outs, all we can do is pray that the Fascists get off the field, accept that they’ve stranded the winning run, and choose not to set the ballpark on fire.

Categories
2020 Election What Fresh Hell

A Truly American Horror Story

106 years ago in Marietta, Georgia, Leo Frank was dragged out of jail by an angry, hateful mob. The self-anointed Knights of Mary Phagan, a vengeful horde of white supremacists seeking justice for the murder of a 13-year-old girl, tied a rope around Frank’s neck, and hanged him from a tree at Frey’s Gin.

Leo Frank, a Jewish factory owner wrongfully convicted of Phagan’s murder two years prior, was lynched in the same grotesque and heinous nature as scores of Black people had and would continue to be executed for decades to come, unlawfully murdered by groups of delusional zealots with nothing better to do but foment racial strife and commit crimes against humanity in the name of a rigid ideology seeking to subjugate whole races of fellow people.

Leo Frank’s Cornell Yearbook Photo, 1906

As a young Jewish boy growing up minutes away from Frey’s Gin, I recoiled in paranoid despondence after first learning of this travesty. Knowing that the state I’d just moved into hosted the most infamous murder of a Jew by an American mob of anti-Semites utterly shocked me in a way I wasn’t used to at 9 or 10, maybe 11 years old. My second/third generation American-Jewish parents, themselves the grandchildren of immigrants, raised me to be mindful of how our neighbors treated us.

Always, always keep your head on a swivel. Be ready to face more than a handful of Jew jokes mocking the size of your nose, the wild curled locks of your hair among other stereotypical features.

As I’ve mentioned before, never was I called a kike. I was, somehow, the first Jew one particularly sheltered young man had ever seen in person.

It was at a baseball camp at Georgia Tech, I think in 2004. The kid said he’d never seen “one of y’all”. Not in a distrustful nature – he simply never knew a Jew (heh, that rhymed).

I’ve been blessed with next to no epithets hurled in my direction, something my mom’s eldest brother and my own dad didn’t have the luxury of avoiding.

Never was I called a Christ killer, or a money-grubber, a secret Rothschild…

But that didn’t make Tree of Life any less harrowing.

It didn’t soften the mental blows of watching Katyusha rockets destroy Israeli homes near the Lebanese border.

The fear of Nazi resurgence lingered and grew ever more tangible as I aged into adulthood. Now, it’s almost an expectation that at some point in my life, I’ll experience some horrid instance of anti-Semitic hatred.

It feels inevitable.

And yet, on the sixth day of the new year, Georgia elected Jon Ossoff, its first Jewish U.S. Senator, mere hours after the inspiring if not somewhat depressing election of Reverend Raphael Warnock, the first Black Georgian and merely the 11th Black Senator ever sent to the Upper Chamber of Congress.

Against all conventional wisdom and odds, both Democrats defeated a pair of corrupt tax dodgers and pandemic profiteers who resorted to employing racial and anti-Semitic imagery in futile attempts to turn the people of Georgia against two seemingly decent men.

MARIETTA, GA – NOVEMBER 15: Georgia Democratic U.S. Senate candidates Jon Ossoff (R) and Raphael Warnock (L) wave to supporters during a rally on November 15, 2020 in Marietta, Georgia. (Photo by Jessica McGowan/Getty Images)

On top of the glass ceiling shattering for two of this country’s most maligned ethnic populations in one of its most diverse states that has tried for decades to leave behind its racist past, Ossoff and Warnock have ended the reign of the single most vile cretin to ever occupy the role of Senate Majority Leader. When Joe Biden takes office, Mitch McConnell will be relegated to the human equivalent of a noisy gnat – a barely noticeable nuisance presenting next to no threat aside from occasionally flying down one’s windpipe and causing a mini-coughing fit. That’s assuming of course that Biden takes a more aggressive approach to his first 100 days in office, but the end goal for the Democratic Party came to fruition as the newest members of Congress from the Peach State pushed them across the 50-seat threshold thanks to Vice President-elect Kamala Harris’ tie-breaking vote as the incoming new President of the Senate.

But like so many days in American history, a moment of triumph fell victim to its darkest hour in a generation.

Procedure dictates that when the election results have been certified by all 50 states of the Union, the delegates selected for the Electoral College from each state congregate at the Capitol and officially certify the election results. It’s always been seen as a sheer performative function, a dog-and-pony show that “officially” ends the election cycle until we start all over again in four years.

Quadrennially, our election results come and go without incident and our democracy moseys along unhindered.

Not in the era of Donald Trump.

Instead of the penultimate civil event of peaceful transition I’ve known it for in my 28 years, we saw a fucking coup d’état nearly destroy our democracy.

While the Senate and House met in their respective chambers, a jacked-up mob of delusional conspiracy theorists and fascists stormed Capitol Hill, rushed past Capitol Police (who more or less matadored out of the way of the MAGA Mob), smashed through barricaded doors and windows and stormed into the Rotunda of Congress. In the melee, a woman was shot and killed while four others sustained injuries. The insurgents galivanted – under police supervision in some cases – into the offices of the Speaker of the House and Senate Majority Leader and stole a dais from the Senate Chamber, Confederate and Trump flags in hand, and freely waltzed out of the halls of Congress once they grew tired of running around an empty building save for some velvet ropes and a handful of ostensibly docile officers of the law.

Meanwhile, members of Congress hid in their offices, barricading their locked doors with furniture while hiding in dark rooms as the marauding MAGA-hat-clad goons and thugs stormed down the corridors of the country’s legislature.

All of this chaos, this insanity, this attempt at intimidation and sedition, all thanks to a madman’s call to arms hours before. Donald Trump held one of his final Nuremburg rallies down the street from Capitol Hill, and riled up his demented supporters. He implored them to march up the steps of Congress and “show strength”.

And like every worst-case scenario that us anti-Trumpers imagined during our bleakest moments of existential fear during these four ungodly-long years, reality usurped even our wildest imaginations.

Capitol security facing down pro-Trump insurgents. (J. Scott Applewhite/AP)

Yet despite the attempted overthrowing of our democracy, Trumplican aiders and abettors continued their bullshit plays to the crowd, objecting to the certification of the Electoral College count for Arizona. Never missing an opportunity to profit off of our suffering, cocksuckers Ted Cruz and Joe Hawley have continued their Quixotic filibusters of closely-contested but nonetheless Supreme Court-affirmed electoral results within Arizona and Pennsylvania. Before the attempted coup, 11 senators joined the two Trump toadies in their journey to erode our democracy in the eyes of over 75 million aggrieved Trump voters. When the moment came hours after the shitshow, only six voted to throw out reviewed, counted, recounted, and state-certified electoral votes for the President and Vice President-elect.

On Twitter, folks were talking impeachment. Mitt Romney allegedly yelled at his colleagues amid the fracas and evacuation of Congress, shouting something along the lines of “this is what you get”. Hell, the 25th amendment has been bandied about like a pie-in-the-sky instrument of freedom to end the psychotic rogue presidency of Tangerine Hitler.

As of this writing, no bombastic condemnations of the criminal president from top Republicans. No serious calls for resignation from the movers and shakers of either party sans Nancy Pelosi and Chuck Schumer.

They’ve continued as if a lone intruder burst through the doors of the Chamber, yelled some wild bullshit about lizard people, and then security promptly snatched and expelled the harmless loon back to the street. Sure, Pence talked a good game as did McConnell and Schumer, but they simply moved on to re-starting the count.

To our horror, these “people” may be as numb to what feels like the millionth perilous outburst of absurdity as the rest of us plebeians.

As we approached midnight, Washington D.C. sat under a curfew, the cretins who’ve spent four years telling progressives to shut up and get over the fascists’ dubious election now conducting the boring formality. Brian Williams presented a brave face, somehow managing not to publicly motherfuck and goddamn every scoundrel seeking to undermine the Constitution on-air.

And thus, the story of America added a chaotic yet familiar chapter.

A victory for equality overshadowed by a historically reprehensible act of terrorism bordering on fascism followed by the cadre of out-of-touch dinosaurs droning on about procedure and duty and superfluous words of encouragement that better days are ahead and after all, “tHiS iS NoT wHo wE aRe!”

I’d like to think Leo Frank is looking down on Jon Ossoff’s historic victory with some comfort, perhaps a warm grin, at the sight of a Jew representing the state that callously slew him over a century ago.

Maybe that is the case.

But after witnessing some masked sack of shit named Scott Perry submit an objection to Pennsylvania’s electoral count with the blessing of the Hitler Youth Senator from Missouri hours after violent mobs of pro-Trump Nazis stormed their place of business, I fear that in spite of its remarkable electoral triumph over fascism, our country is precariously balancing on the edge of a cliff.

We’re either seeing the end of this nightmare or the beginning of a dark age for the United States of America.

G-d help us all.

Categories
New Year Resolution

We Made It…For Now

What a difference a year makes, huh?

Who knew that when 2020 rolled around we’d be in for the worst 12 months the world has seen in quite some time?

No, I suppose it’s not the worst year in history per se, but one would be hard-pressed to argue that this past year was somehow not the worst in the modern era – and at the bare minimum, the worst of the 21st century.

A year ago, I proclaimed that I would not cower in fear of other people knowing where I stood. Then, like a true hypocrite, I created this blog under a pseudonym to protect my little corner of this here Internet from the prying eyes of my overseas bosses.

I’ve also shared some of these posts on my Facebook, so again, a little bit of cognitive dissonance is happening here.

But after the insanity we as a species endured over this past year, I think we are all allowed some participation in a little cognitive dissonance.

Maybe not to the extent that the denialist MAGA chodes are carrying on even as we enter 2021, but nonetheless some dissonance within the psyche.

Speaking of psyches, mine is shot.

I hoped that when I’d be ringing in 2020, I’d be a man with a heightened perspective. For one thing, I thought I was going to be a groomsman and a pilgrim on a Birthright trip to Israel.

Instead, I spent an entire year stuck at home in suburban Atlanta with my parents, dog, and our shithead Trump-loving neighbors.

I sat at my desk day in, day out watching the very worst of the COVID-19 pandemic from Italy to Spain to the UK and right here in the virus’ epicenter.

In my spare time, I howled at the moon with indignant rage over the colossal failure of the American government and its citizens to be good, honest, cautious human beings and instead act out in horrifyingly self-destructive fashion to the detriment of the now 350,000+ and counting victims of this fucking plague.

To our country’s credit, we did vote out that orange Nazi.

Then again, we failed to oust the likes of Susan Collins, Thom Tillis, Jodi Ernst, Lindsey Graham, and the chief Trump accomplice Turtleman McFuckskull.

Thanks to Kentucky, this country’s tired and poor are getting crumbs for “relief” and watching Moscow Bitch doing what he does best: fucking us.

He’s fucked us for what feels like dozens of lifetimes during the whole of his “career” in D.C.

And because of our bullshit political system where each state gets two senators no matter how many cattle outnumber human beings within a given state, we face the more-than-real prospect of watching the new president and the House of Representatives be cockblocked by an intransigent and infantile Senate hellbent on ensuring nothing changes in order to blame the sitting president and the Democratic Party for being unable to negotiate with them, the terrorists, all in the hopes of accessing the proverbial bearer bonds within the Nakatomi Plaza of this long-winded and half-baked Die Hard analogy.

The bottom line: America is fucked.

Mitch McConnell when asked if we should help people.

We have no real hope of a bipartisan government working on behalf of all of us as we scrounge up every last dime we’ve ever saved in the hopes of making it to the next pay period.

So, for my non-resolution resolution for the New Year, I proclaim that I will not give one iota of a semblance of a fuck for people who tell folks my age that we the people cannot afford a government that safeguards its own by providing co-pay-free health insurance, whether employed or on the street, white or Black, conservative or liberal.

We the people of the United States of America deserve a country that will actually employ a government of the people, by the people, and for the people.

Regardless of what happens in Georgia in four days, we must fight back. Demand equity. Protest injustice.

End the insanity.

If not, then we will 100% without a single doubt perish from this earth.

It’s do or die in 2021.

Let’s not waste any more precious time.

Categories
Football

Call Me When You Get A Real QB

You see that picture?

Look at that photo.

Tell me what you see.

Do you see four different people wearing the jerseys of the Chicago Bears?

I’ll tell you what I see.

I see the same pale-faced over-rated failed dipshit.

Not ONE of those blank stares contains an individual worth a lick of paint on their own.

They represent the amorphous, unremarkable, non-descript grey void that’s occupied the NFL’s most important position at Soldier Field for as long as I can remember.

And these are just four of the well over 25 other unimportant, unremarkable white guys that have occupied the role of Starting Quarterback of the Chicago Bears – specifically, the four long-time starters since I began seriously watching football back in 2005.

American Idiot was the top of album in the country. Green Day wrote that record as a middle finger to the then-worst administration in US presidential history.

They just as well could easily have been writing about the McCaskeys and their bumbling brain trust of front office cronies.

Those cheapskate fucking skinflints learned it from the best. Papa Bear Halas succeeded in co-founding the National Football League. Other than the two hands-full of pre-merger titles they won before 1964, the last major accomplishment Halas achieved was throwing out Black players for 12 years before finally standing up to the racist piece of shit owner of the formerly-known-as Washington R******s and un-segregating the league he himself segregated!

What a legendary man whose initials should be emblazoned on our jerseys until the end of time!

The majority of Chicago’s retired numbers belong to men like Bill Hewitt, Clyde “Bulldog” Turner, Bronco Nagurski, George McAfee, and even Halas himself – great players instrumental in helping the NFL morph into what it eventually became. But, nonetheless, men whom chiefly played in the ‘40s and ‘50s, long left in the dust of an unrecognizable league that has since supplanted them in memory.

Honoring history is important, yes. But one would prefer it if their favorite team could do so without resorting to running different versions of the goddamn T-Formation for their offense, something that “thrilled the nation” back in the fucking ‘20s. Instead of embracing the modern-day pass-heavy systems that successful WINNING franchises have employed (IN GREEN BAY NO LESS), these jackasses spent the majority of the ‘90s and early 2000’s trying to play “Bear Football” – that is to dominate the opponent with an otherworldly successful defensive unit and a caretaker offense that could score just enough to eek out close wins.

And the damndest thing is it nearly worked in 2006.

Lovie Smith’s 4-3 attacking scheme brought the Bears within two quarters of their second Super Bowl title, and their first since Daaaa Bearrrs of 1985 fame (or the only year that matters to your average braindead Grabowski or Pulaski in the Chicagoland area or anywhere in the country really).

Only problem: Peyton Manning read them like a titty magazine.

Since then, Smokin’ Jay “stabilized” our QB situation for the seven agonizing seasons he gunslinged his way to more wins than any Bears QB has ever achieved…while throwing away the second-most number of interceptions. Second only to the notorious Sid Luckman. A legend of the ‘40s, he’s the last Bears superstar QB, whom also has his number retired.

42.

Keep in mind, the average QB jersey has been anywhere from 1-19 since roughly the ‘60s give or take.

In other words, the last time the Bears had a worthwhile champion quarterback, signal callers wore numbers you’ll find are now worn by special teams linebackers or safeties, a.k.a. not superstars.

This may mean nothing to someone who doesn’t give a shit about sports.

For a person obsessed with his stupid teams, this is yet another slap in my face.

An insult to my eyes.

Condescending mediocrity.

And it never ends.

This illustrious season saw our heroes start off 5-1 only to careen into a mountainside, cratering to 5-7 and on pace for a top-10 draft pick and thus a shot at possibly – finally – landing a franchise quarterback.

And then they…..rebounded.

Four weeks in a row against the league’s fodder, two of whom right in the top-10 of next year’s draft as of this writing, and now the morons find themselves one win or one Arizona Cardinals loss away from making the playoffs, albeit in the seventh seed wildcard spot – a playoff position created in response to the pandemic.

It took a literal act of G-d to put this garbage excuse of an organization in this position.

And what do I see online?

I see Bears fans – tormented, disillusioned saps who’ve sat through the same shit I have (in some cases far LONGER than I have) – celebrating.

They’re happy.

They so desperately wish to stave off the inevitable offseason, a period of never-ending draft circle jerks while chasing down the latest obscure rumor about “changes” coming to Chicago, that they WANT this heap of toxic waste to get anally probed on national TV by the corpse of Drew Brees, possibly even Russell Wilson.

Four weeks ago after pissing away an easy win against the Detroit Lions, football’s pre-2016 Chicago Cubs, fans rightly flooded social media with wishes of a season-ending losing streak into the top 10 of the draft board.

Three wins later, and not only should human straightjacket Matt Nagy be commended for un-fucking the situation he fucked up in the first place, he should be given another shot!

The man who spent all of 2019 forcing his entire team to re-watch the double-doink on a never-ending loop in a real-life Clockwork Orange reenactment too much for the Marquis de Sade to bear (intended).

The man who took Mitch Trubisky, an athletic, out-of-the-pocket running quarterback, and beat him into trying to become a pocket passer, promptly overloading the kid with a complicated playbook designed for a COMPLETELY DIFFERENT ARCHETYPE.

The man who refused to give up his atrocious play-calling duties until AFTER five losses in a row and the Bye Week.

That man.

That dunderheaded asshat.

That waste of a fucking headset.

THAT man.

Am I….am I losing it?

I must be out of my mind.

It can’t be possible for this entire fanbase to be so tortured into accepting this current regime merely after they beat a dead Texans squad, a heap of burnt-out Vikings, and the now 1-14 Jags, future home of Trevor Lawrence.

I mean play to win sure, but play to ensure the fucksticks in charge of running the team into the ground stay next year to continue pile-driving towards the Earth’s core?

Maybe it’s this year. Perhaps, I’m too numb to any feeling that even a futile moment of joy can’t lift my spirits. I’m just a football Grinch, hating my own team that I’ve wasted so much emotional capital and bandwidth on.

I’m the asshole.

But how could I NOT be?????

We know what will happen!

The fucking owners will count their checks once the fans can come back, ignore the problem, and mediocrity will reign, undefeated since 1986.

Phew….

……………….

That’s as much effort as I can put into this rant.

Like the title says, call me when these dinguses get a quarterback that’s worth a shit.

They’ve been in hibernation for at least 30 years.

It’s high time I get in on the zero-fucks-given ground floor.

Categories
2020 Election

END, END

So much for that post-election bliss, eh?

In the month since Donald Trump became a one-term president, the bastard has riled up his far-too-gone fascist supporters into believing this election, like everything else Trump has ever disliked, is a hoax. That no, 81 million Americans did NOT vote for Joe Biden but instead voted FOR the single-worst, most disastrous human being to ever stain the Oval Office.

His cretins of legal teams, led by the Crypt Keeper if he had spent 9,000 years smoking every form of meth in the known universe, continue filing diarrhetic streams of shit passing as “lawsuits” in every state where Trump lost by hilariously clear margins, even managing to expand Joe Biden’s victory in Wisconsin.

It would be more amusing if 75 million fucking zombies didn’t actually think it were true.

The bastard has raised $200 million worth thanks to his self-pitying pissing and moaning campaign emails he’s barraged his marks and lemmings who are currently gathering around the Kool-Aid tank ready to ascend to the promised land cult since November 7th.

He’s gone into overdrive with his psychotic tweets, sharing every conspiracy theory he can dredge up no matter how insane, how improbable, or how utterly batshit.

This lunacy prevented the Biden transition team from accessing funding to begin the process of, you know, forming our new administration until an unbelievably fragile and stupid Trump installation in the GSA (an agency nobody outside of D.C. knew existed a month ago) had to be bullied into doing her goddamn job.

Meanwhile, the troglodytes continue lying. They’ve targeted everyone: calling for the execution of the now-former head of the Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency Chris Krebs. They’ve harrassed Georgia Secretary of State Brad Raffensperger, his hilariously inept boss Brian Kemp, his deputy, and a random IT contractor, leading one of Georgia’s election officials to lambast the Trumplican Party for its intolerable behavior.

The Chaos somehow keeps getting worse by the day. The difference now is that there is an end date. Too bad that in between now and January 20th, we have a special election to decide control of the Senate and in turn whether a modicum of change will come to us in the middle of this cocksucking pandemic, and oh, right, THAT.

The pandemic.

The thing that started in March.

The one where 260,000+ and counting Americans continue dying.

That little thing.

Fuck, this year needs to end yesterday.

Categories
2020 Election Politics

Looking For That Asteroid, DNC?

Congratulations, America! We did it!

We avoided fascism! HOORAY!

Now what?

I guess it’s time to hope Republicans have not only been lying about Democrats and liberals for the past four years but also lying about THEMSELVES in the process!

Every pea-brained take artist and their mother wants the Dems to somehow appeal to the Trump voter and the Trump Party while simultaneously reaching a magical world of harmonious compromise and American unity and other fairytale pipedreams we’ve been spoonfed since 9/11.

“Why can’t we just be how we all were on September 12th?”

Well, Susan, perhaps because one side of the country would like to achieve economic equality and universal healthcare while the other half openly wishes for Orange Hitler to be their forever-Führer to helm the never-ending struggle of Owning The Libs at every critical American flashpoint.

Or perhaps socialists? Yeah, it’s definitely their fault. What a bunch of cucks.

As evidenced by the outpouring of disdain and hatred toward the “radical left” of the Democratic Party, it appears the leaders want to continue chairing this fossilized caucus from atop their perches of Jurassic Park. In spite of overwhelming support for landmark progressive policies that galvanized Democratic voters during the 2018 midterms and the start of the primary, the DINOs believe simply restoring normalcy and unity within the government is good enough.

Meanwhile, McConnell prepares his flamethrower. The target: the 2020 election results, or at the very least the final two Senate seats up for grabs in Georgia.

As wonderfully quaint and positively freeing the experience of knowing Donald Trump is on his way out of the White House has been for me personally, I’m now realizing that indeed the centrists and moderates afraid of their owns shadows were 100,000% wrong for betting on the middle of the road.

Instead of embracing a new era of politics and embracing the ever-changing and left-leaning electorate, the Fossils are content with praying Daddy Turtle Man stops the whippings and allows them back to the kids table for supper like the good ol’ days.

That strategy never works.

In fact, that strategy is the very reason why Raphael Warnock and Jon Ossoff are suddenly the Democrats’ only hope of winning the Senate. It’s the same reason why the House’s 35-seat majority will become more of a 10-15 seat lead.

People were concerned that Trump’s presence would haunt the party once he finally left, that there would be little reason for progressives and moderates to remain a united front. And while that is true to an extent, it’s the still wrong takeaway.

The party has enjoyed its greatest successes when pushing liberal policies that eventually become concrete legislation: The New Deal, Social Security, the Civil Rights Act, the Voting Rights Act, Obamacare, etc. When the party fails, they try to bring in moderate Republicans, good hard-working people you’d see in old Marlboro ads wrangling bulls on the frontier who constantly tell any field reporter willing to stick a microphone in their face that the Democrats suddenly “don’t speak for me anymore”, how they’ve “changed” and “lost their way”.

Almost 99.9999% of the time, these same concerned working-class heroes will lament the loss of America’s dignity and culture, our “values” if you will.

These people will not vote for you.

You could raise Ronald Reagan from the dead, slap a big blue D on his rotted skull and stick a voice box in him parroting this very sentiment and these worried white folks will still vote for the Republican.

Why drink Diet Coke when you can have the Coke with the real cocaine?

Schumer, Pelosi, Hakeem Jeffries, Abigail Spanberger, Amy Klobuchar, Pete Buttigieg…

Throw out any centrist and you’ll find they all express the same fears that those so-called rural white people echo when mourning THEIR Democrat Party. The only difference appears to be that they will still support their colleagues…publicly.

Otherwise, they’re the same.

They may not support Donald Trump and his open fascism, but they sure do hate the hell out of the left. It’s ironic, too, when you consider that the only reason Democrats broke free from their segregationist past was thanks to socialist agendas. Now, socialism is apparently the reason why they lose. Not their aggressively-homogenous group of stock photo models for candidates or their disregard for popular policy. To them, FDR’s party struggles because of AOC and Bernie. You know, a freshman congresswoman and an old Jew from Brooklyn.

How dangerous.

There is no difference between moderate-centrist milquetoast Dems and Republicans. They’ll tell you “woke people” to “take a nap” while sitting in their country club estate taking a “$100 sip” of some fine liquor and becoming an unintentional conservative rallying cry on Twitter. All wish to return to a power structure designed to prop up mediocre middle-aged white men (and occasional women) while keeping the rest out of sight and out of mind.

No amount of virtue signaling can disguise this ugly truth.

Joe Biden is the President now, but the DINOs still run the park.

And pretty soon, just like the original dinos, they’ll be history.

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