The War on Thanksgiving!

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Do those feathers like, um…? And that poor turkey is wearing a wig! Who designed this shirt?? I suspect someone who actually wants a war on Thanksgiving. 

From the Cranberry Hollow, right off the Punkin Knob

We have seen some rough fighting this past few run of days. Stovetop stuffing versus homemade, it got uglier and uglier, the survivors dazed and in need of cheer. We spent the night concocting pumpkin pie bombs, laced with cream cheese and whipped cream. But our hopes all rest with the forty pound turkey brother dragged to our fortress of buttered crescent rolls. May it sustain us through these hard hard times. #WarOnThanksgiving

Just off the coast of Gravy Boat Bay—

it’s quiet tonight. Too quiet. We suspect they are sneaking up to offer us deviled eggs and black olives skewered with tooth picks. To refuse might mean we give away our positions, but to choke down those deviled eggs means a total betrayal of all we believe in and hold dear. The struggle is real. The struggle is real. Do we hold true to who we are? It all seems so much dark meat tonight. Footsteps. I hear the rustle of holiday clothes and the clink of holiday dishes. Send me strength to see this through. #WarOnThansgiving

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Yeah, this isn’t a parody. I repeat, this is not a parody or the Onion. This is America’s alleged leader…promising we’ll still have Thanksgiving. Not parody. This is not parody.

Somewhere near the Marshmallow Yam Dish battlefield—

We approached the mound cautiously. It quivered. No one would go near it. It looks like something is suspended in the cloudy green interior. The horror we felt did not dissipate for several days. Our commander told us to buck up, it was only a damn Jell-O mold but we noticed our commander did not go near it, nor slice into it. We left it alone. It might be the biggest mistake we’ve made yet, but no one wishes contact with that quivery green horror filled with bits and pieces of God knows what. Someone whispered it was banana and peaches chopped up but surely not. A sinister pall falls over all of us these days. #WarOnThanksgiving

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Interior of Turkey Bone Fortress, off Drumstick Circle—

Today we lifted forks. It happened. Small talk nonexistent as we dug in with serious will. Many fell to the wayside after, curiously immobile and moaning while rubbing at bellies. Too much, too much, seemed the weary battle cry this day. #WarOnThanksgiving

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from Focus NM.

Murder Mittens

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Murder mittens always an option. 

The kitten plays. She’s lively, endearing, clearly on stimulants such as crack or triple expressos. Her broken jaw has not held her up much. The stitches were removed, the vet declared Jaws doing well. It’s her nickname. Jaws. Probably, eventually, her name. She enjoys attacking the dog’s tails. We have three dogs, all with long wavy tempting tails. Jaws stalks each one, sneaks up on it, does the wrap all four paws around tail, kick with rhythmic precision until whatever dog has been enduring this decides enough is enough. Jaws like to hide beneath the loveseat, bat at the nearest dog waiting for food to fall into his or her mouth from the indulgent humans nearby.

The kitten also wakes up in the middle of the night. Wet cat nose. Murder mittens about my foot. Plaintive meows. Are you up yet, giant inept cat? I read where cats regard humans as other giant ‘very bad at being cats’ cat. It’s why they bring us gifts of dead mice or a dead bird, often not so dead. Our pet cats are trying to feed us.

So, the state of American politics at present. I feel like pouring a giant glass of whiskey, with some Coke thrown in it, and watching it all burn to the ground. Maybe that would finally satisfy everyone. We can all enjoy the flames, roast some marshmallows, blame it all on the DNC, Nancy Pelosi, millennials and those who lack civility.

People will vote straight R because the ‘other side’ uses curse words. Okay, sure.

I also notice that the Dems do not play offense. Ever. It’s always a bewildered ‘here are the facts, why don’t you get it?’ blinky sort of ingrained trained door mat niceness.

As the Republican PR propaganda machine churns out 24/7, every minute, whatever reality they wish pushed and believed.

Ukraine interfered in our elections in 2016! Investigate the Bidens! Hillary sold uranium! The polls are rising in favor of Trump!

And so many more, over and over and over, repeated, over and over and over, repeated, over and over and over. Relentless.

There does not seem to be a counter to that, other than a timid ‘that’s not true, here’s the truth, m’kay, you guys.’ Any actual fiery response or push back seemingly gets shot down. By the other Democrats.

Calm down. Calm down, be polite, don’t upset the apple cart, take the high road.

Until that one actually fighting back gets silenced or even shoved out. It doesn’t seem a coincidence that the fighters and loud mouths all seem absent, missing or gone altogether. Or those speaking out don’t get supported or defended that much as the right, with a gleeful savagery, goes after that person with lies, more lies and damn lies. Hello, AOC.

Adam Schiff practically has to be a robot, speaking without much passion or anger. Pelosi has to remain preternaturally calm in the face of rabid hyenas snapping their foamy jaws in her face.

Any show of anger or outrage from the left gets met with how nuts they are, how ANGRY all the time, how they hate America and Americans, how…oh sure. Until the Dems get so trained to be calm apologists you tend to…ignore whatever they might say. Which is the whole fucking point of training them so.

And I find myself wishing a Dem would snap, and just go to town on the R’s. That other Dems start repeating talking points in counter to the talking points we always hear–

That Dems are weak on family values. That Dems are into spending. That Dems are blah blah blah.

Boil down a few very simple talking points that counter the message that Dems are unAmerican fringe weirdos intent on turning everyone gay after handing out free abortions to middle schoolers.

Dems fix the economy after Republicans wreck it. Dems stand for human rights when Republicans don’t. Dems want immigration reformed, not some free for all whoever wants to enter can bullshit. That fucking wall needs to be shoved up the nearest MAGA asshole sans lubricant. Protect the environment. Wrecking the land, water and air will not make America great. It will just make America uninhabitable.

Just some thoughts.

The kitten has slipped off somewhere. She likes to look out the windows. I need to get her fixed before she can return outside a bit. I have made myself her caretaker and servant. I have no wish to lose her as she seeks out mates or take care of more cats as she churns out unwanted kittens.

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Brigit and the new fast-moving not-mouse having a bit of a snuggle. 

Late night

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Stacks of straw made from the wheat stalks. The Malheur Butte. 

Okay. It’s close to midnight. And something evil…no. No, I won’t go into Thriller. But I did open a can of worms. They are wriggling about on two different fronts. I made a comment. I checked who was following me on Twitter and discovered a flat earther/young earther idiot of idiotic proportions. Damn.

Yep.

And with those lurking about lookin’ for trouble right here in River City!

Now!! I made the mistake, I admit it, of commenting about feminism with someone who called themselves an equalist because the ‘f’ word is so toxic…which was the subject of the youtube video, by the way. Not. Even. Kidding.

So the first interaction with the guy who made the comment went fine. It was polite and measured, we both had fun. I kept myself polite and respectful. Which if you know me is sort of a miracle on the order of loaves and fishes.

Am I being snarky and sarcastic? Uh huh. Was I actually polite? Yes, I was.

So another jumps in…a foaming at the mouth sort typing angrily away about how his daughter isn’t going to pee alongside men because of them equality laws.

Just checked. He left a new comment. I’ll ignore it for now. Cause I’m mature and grown up! 

Yeah, I did that tilt the head, what the hell? expression, face palm, huh? what are you talking about? reaction…before delving into all that.

Which I should have IGNORED SUPER HARD. Or posted pictures of Janet Mock and directed that guy to watch Pose.

He then tried to pretend I was the crazy, hysterical one…as happens in such ‘conversations’.  Men are logical and LOL types, women are hysterical ranters. [That’s the polite term/s. Uh huh.]

After I posted two links to myths about transgender folks, including the bathroom stuff. And linked the hysteria now over LGTBQ gaining rights to the Civil Rights fight to gain rights and even to women trying to get the right to vote. The same fears get trotted out over and over, you notice, you hear/read the same stuff…okay, whatever. Yeah, I’m the crazy loony feminazi, m’kay. He’s the cool-headed, trying to save the kids stalwart!

Talk about a meet-cute!

I, of course, am ‘projecting’ onto this…person. This ranting, hysterical, triggered by a word that has been turned into something worse than ‘cunt’ and almost as bad as the N word.

I get that. I get that ‘feminism’ is a demonized set of syllables. You have to scrape up words that mean the same thing as feminism rather than just use that word. Or you get told you hate men, that you’re for the rape of children in bathrooms and that you hate men and…yeah. I could turn this into a whole novel-length bit.

I will refrain as hard as possible from continuing that rabbit hole of whatever that is. I’ve seen that conversation repeated so many times. It’s so tiresome. I get tired of trying to placate and soothe. Fuck.

Of course. I can play with that poor trout and see how long he can continue that thread.

Now, the science denier chick. That was a head-scratcher as well. Suddenly, on the Twitter feed, between rants about Trumpie the KKKruel KKKlown and vague quotes about writing and animal rescue vids, there appeared…this wild, has to be parody, account touting what got Galileo in trouble for calling out. The earth is the center of it all cause God made the earth for us and…yeah, um, no. With some weird quote from a 60’s book. Which, yes, linked God with creating the planet. Ugh.

I can find it later, splice it in or not.

Mistake, I admit– I commented what the hell was this, was this a parody account. No, she responded and then threw out some science words, mashing them together to “prove” the existence of magic! Holy catnip, Batwoman!

I just went to town on that poor schmuck. I doubt she’ll interact with me again. I did refrain from throwing in swear words. I’m an adult, for fuck’s sake! I’ll ignore her, because I’d rather watch the rescue of a moose calf. It had a hoof caught, at the edge of a lake. In big boulders. These guys got it freed and back to solid ground.

I might just cut down my Twitter to Animal Rescue and Cute Animals Doing Cute Things.

So, basically, the Dodo, Hope for Paws and anything with manta rays. Or manatees. Or moose calves. I’ll keep the writerly stuff and the art stuff. But writers and artists notice when shit goes off the rails, then writes or paints things…damn it.

And yet another shooting, in Odessa, Texas. On the evening before Texas loosens its already loose gun laws…Not even kidding. People seem a lot angrier about all this lately. Anger gets shit done, as Mr. Nancy said on American Gods. Maybe America is finally losing her temper.

Well, I did promise to just promote my writing and arty art all September. Not dissolve into some political rabbit warren [cause it seems every rabbit is digging holes lately and they all live together in some endless fucked up underground Matrix-like hellscape…!] that swerves into ‘why feminists want all men dead and children assaulted in bathrooms’ and ‘Noah’s Ark is, like, totally real cause here’s some super-serious science words thrown out so we now have the same evidence which should make you believe in whatever I can twist out next, m’kay…’

Late night. It’s hot. Hello, September.

 

 

Obscene

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After spending nearly four years drumming up every racist dogwhistle known and then some, Trumpie is being touted as the healer who will bring this nation together over the recent mass shootings in El Paso, Dayton and I’ll include it, Californa’s Garlic Festival.

It’s obscene.

He’s campaigned, is campaigning now, on the fear of the other. That ‘illegals’ are here to burn American to the ground. To bring in rampant gangs who will rape and murder and hand out drugs like free samples at Costco.

MS-13 started here in Los Angeles, by the way.

Build the Wall is one of the campaign rallying cries at the more and more scary rallies being held full of red-hatted dewy-eyed sycophants and often, paid seat-fillers.

Send Her Back was chanted about a recent dust up with a Muslim woman who represents a district in Minnesota.

There are actual concentration camps on the southern border, full of brown people, some of whom are dying or already dead. And that’s only the ones we hear about. As those places are kept under strict control. And those people kept in those places kept from communicating with anyone, even lawyers who should even now be processing their paperwork, getting them their due process.

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Obscene. As is Trumpie being offered as some sort of comforting presence.

It’s rather like Hitler offering comfort and prayers to the Jews he’s just ordered gassed. It’s that level of jaw-dropping what the actual fuckery.

It’s a scene from some obscure absurdist play where the one who just had you murdered gives the eulogy while smirking and jerking off. Obscene doesn’t seem a strong enough word or concept for this attempt at turning Trump into some sort of sympathy-giver.

You can’t praise the very one who ramped up the hate. Praise them as some sort of newly reformed do-gooder when the same ole shit leaks out. When actions never ever match words. That’s even in the Bible. Known by your fruits. It’s famous. What fruits are Trumpie harvesting, y’all?

He’s not THE SINGLE cause feeding all this hate, paranoia, violence and mass death-dealing, sure. But he is a symptom and an inciting agent in the racism run amuck right now. He didn’t single-handedly blah blah blah. You’ve heard it. I’ve heard it.

However, he is getting normalized. This is all starting to be made to feel ‘normal’. The bar has been set so low there might as well not be a bar at all measuring the lowest level of decency or competence to even cause a blip on a screen somewhere.

Been said before, a lot. Still true. Horrifically true. Obscenely true.

I keep waiting for the ‘news’ to denounce all of this soundly. The Trump Train going off the rails like that great scene in the Fugitive. The one where Harrison Ford galumps ahead of a train plowing through the earth like a grounded dragon.

I keep waiting for major news networks to call shenanigans in no uncertain terms. I mean really put a foot down, use plain words.

Unfit to be president.

Garbage Human Being that needs to be a foot note in history.

Fuck this nonsense, and fuck you, you fucking fuck—I’d love to see that splashed across the NY Times or the Los Angeles Time or the Seattle Times. Love it!

Obscene Man Shits Himself As Country Prepares To Send His Ass To Outer Space—The Salt Lake Tribune.

 

Followed by—

Cloroxing of the White House might takes years, says Elizabeth Warren and many others in between loud bursts of cheering and heartfelt sobbing—The Chicago Tribune.

THOSE ARE FAKE HEADLINES, BADLY WRITTEN FAKE HEADLINES. M’kay? 

I find I am losing whatever elegance and grace I once had in dealing with anything. I feel always in crisis. I know others are going through this, shouting into the vacuum. Singing to the choir. Time for whatever is next. No matter how hard or awful. This cannot continue, this state of affairs.

Because it’s obscene.

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Rejection’s Poster Gal

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Three dogs, one river. Miz Bridge, Jake in the middle and Molly the Chocolate Lab. Owyhee River.

Hello, various readers and passers stopping by on a snowy evening. Some Bob Frost to start us all on the road to hilarity and good cheer.

I’ve lost count of the rejections this week but it’s a LOT. I either need to write up a new batch of stories, poems and plays or keep sending out the same old crappola. Hoping this time. That time. This time over here.

That it will be different.

Except right now, truth is so much goddamn stranger than any fiction I could fart out or compose while munching French pastry and sipping Italian wine. While seated outside at a sunny cafe in Athens, Greece. I’d write longhand, of course. Using my own blood as ink.

Cause I’m a writer, dangnabbit! That’s a word you hear in old timey cowboy movies as they were not allowed to say ‘god damn it’.

Yes, the American political and all other scenes are just rife with WTF, then topped with Is That An Actual Tweet? followed by Don’t Read the Comments Section, ended with I Am So Done With Social Media, I’m Off To Raise Sunflowers To Help Third World Scarf Herders. Then the cycle starts all over again. With variations.

It’s the downward spiral. It’s the we’re imploding and prolly gonna take the entire world with us. It’s…it’s fucking hot right now.

So my thoughts are roughly—it’s hot. I should write something. About. Something. It’s hot.

Being poor, air conditioning is one of those unheard of, rich people inventions that exist in movies. Sort of kidding. I have a tiny fan. It helps. I go outside, throw water on my squash. I dig out weeds. I hear the hawks raising their kids down the road. Noisy bastards. Shut up, hawks! The corn hides the ditch bank road so the dogs have to listen real hard instead of watching to see who drives to and fro on what they obviously consider their bit of territory. Any engine gets them still and holding their breath. It’s rather creepy-cute.

What to write about. My hot take on politics? Nah, that’s just solid cuss words at this point. Eve Carlin, from hell, shouts out, hey, throw in some other words there. Feminist issues that affect us all? Golly, I’m either too much or too little here or…eh?

Oh!! Sidetrack. Here we go.

Saw the Spy Who Dumped Me. We have free Epix, whatever. So, the plot, eh. Some international whatever, been done a gazillion billion times. However, what’s fresh, you ask? Or haven’t asked at all though you’ve made it this far?

The relationship between the two best friends. Played by Mila Kunis and Kate McKinnon. It rang every true bell. How they support each other, are there for each other, their acceptance of each other’s faults yet the irritation over those faults…it’s all there. I especially found my bell rang over Kate’s character being called ‘too much’ by a lot of people, including the secret spy/boyfriend of Mila’s character. And Mila’s character siding with Kate’s character, then telling her she’s not too much. Ah!! I almost teared up.

As someone who’s been repeatedly called ‘too much’, which I ALWAYS took as—

there’s something very very wrong with me; nobody likes me unless I act quiet and not myself. I am a monster!—

That moment reminded me of what great friends I have.

I could write about my own experiences with people trying to whittle me down to acceptable size.

And never show that writing to anyone because it would be like ripping my face off and gluing a salted strip of razor blades in its place.

How I have the self-esteem of a dead rock and yes, have let other people define me because 99% of those people tell me I’m ‘too much’…!

And when I try to not be a monster, I find that I am silent and limp as moldy lettuce stuck to the gunk under the veggie drawer in the fridge. And that I am angry. Then I explode and people walk about me as if on the most delicate eggshells and…yeah, pattern.

Pattern! Yep. Pattern detected.

So I’ll stick to making up monsters or writing about sexual encounters between dinosaurs and women. Is that still a thing?? What about man’s inhumanity to man?

Oooh! I smell a Nobel outta that one!

I’ll call it Man Being Mean to Men. It will feature no women characters whatsoever. It will just be two white straight guys on a beach arguing over who’s the bigger victim of post-post modern society as the world literally burns. I will use a thesaurus a lot. I will describe their inner penis. A lot.

I suspect if I actually did write something like that, it would probably actually sell.

I’m not bitter.

Nope.

I am. I am so bitter I’m a walking moldy lemon at this point. Okay.

Rejections fast and furious this week. I’ll not buck up at all. I’ll stew in my own sweat until autumn shows up and it’s STILL FUCKING HOT GOD DAMN IT FUCK FUCK FUCK. But hey, the nights are cooler. I should move to the Artic. Except it’s on fire where they’re not drilling gleefully for oil. Where else is cold?

Minnesota? Maine? Montana? It would have to be within walking distance. How much can I stuff in a backpack? I’ll have to dig up my jars of pennies I buried for a rainy day. Some jars only have one or two pennies in them but hey, that first step, amirite? Amen! A cave, some berries.

I can be the Unibomber without all the baggage.

Holy moley, what a scattershot post. But I felt it important to not write yet another political scream that is only heard by some wide-eyed mice in a deserted choir room.

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I managed to capture an actual bumblebee sampling my lemon balm plant. Isn’t it gorgeous???

Pipe Bombs Burstin’ in Their Hair

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If you don’t know who Nathan Bedford Forrest is, go look him up.

Hey, my book is still on special over on Amazon.

I’m not shocked.

Not shocked by the recent racist red meat thrown to Trump Chumps. America has a deep vein of that ‘send her back’ nastiness embedded in the marrow of her bones.

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The other. Not one of us. Not American. Doesn’t love America like us. Not a real American. They don’t get our ways. They don’t have our values. They won’t assimilate. They don’t speak our language. They come here to destroy our country. They are NOT ONE OF US. USA USA USA!!!

You can go back through American history, see plenty of that same shit Assolini spewed at his rally. It’s a diversion, sure. It’s meant to deflect from the Latest Scandal, this time the one with Jeffrey Epstein.

The child-trafficking bestie of powerful men across the spectrum of political and religious affiliations. As even those who worship Assolini would have to, and I’m not sure they would at this point, step back a bit and act sorta, kinda, almost mildly perturbed, if their savior-hero-object of worship gets tied to any of Epstein’s trafficking and underage rape sprees.

There’s also Robert Mueller testifying sometime, maybe? That might also be causing alarm and a need to throw out burning crosses and Make America White Again hysterical rantings.

However, the problem with all this is that there will be very real consequences for these political games. An elected Representative, Ilhan Omar of Minnesota’s Fifth District, might very well lose her life because of the ramped up rhetoric against her.

That someone who lies constantly gets believed by his base is Ionesco level absurd. It’s into Sam Beckett areas.

We’ve already had an Assolini follower try to send bombs to various Democrats on Assolin’s hit parade. It’s just…a matter of time, I guess. Before one of those acolytes succeeds.

And the press will fall in line and blame the victim…cause both sides or something. Maybe they won’t. Maybe lessons are being learned. And.

Nope. Nope, just checked. Nope!

I think America is all but dead. I think there are death rattles going on. But death swans in on chants of ‘send her back’. To people waving their red badges of dishonor.

Yes, I am incredibly disheartened by all this. I’ve even taken to writing a few things here and there over on Twitter. The disinformation, conspiracy theories about Hillary and now the Squad, just makes your hair rise on end. I hit fifty and less shits to give.

I’m watching the gutting of my country by a cynical walking and screaming actual piece of shit. I’m watching my own family embrace this enthusiastically. And swallow all of the lies, slick PR, the rhetoric…all of it.

I also notice, across the pond, that Boris Johnson will likely be the next PM. A British version of Assolini.

And I hope, I still hope, all this embracing of shouty men will end. I hope it doesn’t take a world war to end this fellating of horrorshows who shout and yell simplistic slogans that people can repeat and sneer at those like me.

I hope people notice there are no ideas offered. Give all the money to the rich and kill the group/s demonized for everything is so done that, been there, after all.

Never Again. Except. It’s How Fast Can We Repeat History while pretending this time it’s different?

Is the answer a lot?

Is the answer as much as possible because no one but whiny commie lefty hate the flag socialists who won’t say the Pledge and take knees point it out so it must be wrong, wrong, wrong to not be under the thrall of Orange Shouty Man Assolini??

At this point it’s just patriotic to be a fascist! MAGA! What are we shouting this time around again? I’m economically anxious! Look at me chanting horrible words at brown people while being economically anxious! Wheeeeeee!!!! I feelz so better now!!! Wheeeee!! Still can’t pay rent and buy groceries in the same month but SEND HER BACK SEND HER BACK SEND HER BACK.

That’s where we are. America has gone full tilt boogie insane. I guess those who stayed home rather than vote…nope. Nope, too fucking late to beat that skeletal horsie. You vote for Jill Stein [or any candidate that’s not the Dem nominee] in the next election cycle [if we have one] and I will personally roll my eyes at you. And write a nasty, barely veiled, poem about your genitalia. Okay? Okay!

Maybe! these shouty men [and the far right leaders getting voted into office all over the planet seem legion.] will just be a minor fever on the world’s journey toward some utopia.

Ah, world peace! Whirled peas! A UN type of world where the UN doesn’t really need to exist cause everyone, ahem, gets along! 

Some world where nearly everyone is treated well, there’s enough food and water, the environment isn’t a smoking trash heap, animals still exist in the ‘wild’ and the rise of shouty men is a laughable joke told by smirking comedians at art festivals dedicated to new works.

Yes, my utopia has a plethora of art festivals and smirking comedians. Make art, not war!

It can’t happen here.

Fuck yeah, it can. It is.

I think we’re there, for a while now– people also aint’ comin’ back from their Assolini fixation. You can’t pretend away that you were never really for him when he falls. And he will. Cause that’s what happens, for the most part, with shouty men. It’s not a nice or pretty ending or a ride off into the sunset on a pretty horse for shouty men.

Of course America is still fighting the War of Northern Aggression.

The Party of Lincoln is somehow also the Party of Jefferson Davis. That’s, um…yeah.

That’s nutballs with a capital NUT.

But hey, at least there’s a real sense of inert helplessness going around! We got that going for us!

USA USA USA. Flag.

Oh say can you ignore by the rally’s early light, what so cowardly we chant, is an echo of earlier shit our great-grandparents had chanted at them…And the machine gun’s red glare, the homemade pipe bombs burstin’ in their hair, gave proof through the day, that stirring up hatred works like a charm, hurray hurray.

 

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See what I mean? Lilly perfectly echoes the lies, rhetoric, all of it, right on cue. My own dad couldn’t have parroted this better.

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Sparklepony Jesus Spammer

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Heaven. I’m in heaven. And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak…

Admit it. You’ve been missing my genteel and delightful titles. Today’s post is about a persistent spammer with a Jesus fetish.

Now “Emmanuel Love” seems hellbent on trumpeting the end of the world is nigh messages. The first full sentence of this spammy spam was praise for the Insane shitweasel for moving the US embassy to Jerusalem. Naming it the capital of Israel which needs to happen before a chain of events gets set off that will usher in…uh huh. It’s a parallel of the dominionism beliefs.

{If I am fuzzy here on Israel and all that, sorry. I’ll go look all this up, do some research.}

 Dominionisn?? What’s that? Ah. That’s Mike Pence and the Duggars. The Quiverful Movement. Where the women get bred like cows and the men are men, and don’t you ever forget it or they might snap and shoot you in the face cause Jesus. Where the end of the world is pretty much nigh and boy, oh boy, are they prepared for it. You can add survivalists in here. End time preppers. Hardcore Christians nearly vibrating with malice toward others. That’s my take. Just a vibrating set of WHEN JESUS GETS HERE YOU ARE ALL GONNA DIE AND BE SORRY SO THERE. 

That’s why the whole public masturbation over Israel. Because stuff needs to be arranged there to fit prophecy…cause Jesus needs help? Jesus can’t make shit fall into place? I know and you know Insane Shitweasel did that with Jerusalem on Mike Pence’s whispery pleadings. And the praise he got shivered shitweasel’s timbers.

Did you notice America’s birthday got hijacked? That California belched out an earthquake and DC brewed up a witch’s cauldron worth of rain, lightening and general bad wet awful weather?

I’ll let you go read up on this particularly awful branch of Christianity.

Now, my sparklepony spammer spams this same copy and paste completely batshit insane fanfic/novella at me about two or three times a day at times.

As if constantly bombarding me with nonsense and wrongness will turn my head.

Do you really want me wandering over to your site, dude? Or allowing your spammy shit to post, then taking it apart so hard you’ll still be crying for mommy in the echoing halls of some fourth rate hell?

I did go look at the site this darling oozed from. Holy hell and by the scaly tail of the devil!! Anti-human rights, anti-everything, pro-…?

From gay-bashing to how Noah’s Ark is super-real, you heathens. How evolution is fake. Yep. Anti-science, too. Anti-human rights. Anti-women.

The mark of the Beast, for the love of cupcakes and G-strings! Is, gasp, Obama still the Anti-Christ, dude?? Tell me MORE. Oh wait, don’t. Heard it!! Heard all this crap! Makes me giggle uncontrollably.

Prolly not the reaction you want, Emmanuel. 

All with the word ‘love’ thrown around like candy at a fascist rally. We do this out of love, I hear about such hardcore, used to be on the fringe, Christians. We do this to save you…Yeah, no.

Let me go to hell in my own way, to paraphrase Robert Frost.

I have no problem with religion or those who have faith or practice something. I have a problem with others demanding I practice a form of their whatever as well. I want to state that here.

Oh you’re just bashing Christianity!

Well, fuck yeah, I am.

When some lame ass spammer keeps spamming me about his fap fantasy end of the world ocean of blood cum dreams, I get a bit peevish.

Leave me the hell out of your everyone dies but about four people deathgasms. Leave me out of your world ends in fire and blood nuttery.

I’d rather fantasize about a deserted island, with a gorgeous beach and that inviting expanse of water. I can add whatever I need here.

A cocktail.

Someone to talk to, a brace of cheerful friends, a manta ray I can watch swim about.

Oh yes, I dream of going to the beach. That’s my heaven.

Not Emmanuel Love’s [maybe change your name to Blade Kill Em All, Blade Killemall]  grubby, awful, narrow vision of savagery. 

Blood to be spilled by a terrible version of the savior figure that floats through your fanfic like a combination of Voldemort and Rambo.

Just fuck off, sparklepony of hate, fear and jonesing for a big death show to end everything we know of life on this planet.

I’m starting to have no fucks to give anymore. Maybe this next decade is the ‘just go fuck yourself, you annoying shitmeister’ span of years as I toddle off into the surf to pet manta rays.

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from a calendar of sexy Jesus stuff. 
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Anyone else getting these numbingly frequent headscratchers? I cropped it. Emmanuel Love’s opening gambit. Notice that bull about prophecy, in case you thought I was inventing.