Originally published on medium.com, 5/22/2018 by Johnny Quick, republished with permission on Hitting The Trifecta.
Gun violence is rampant, and other than restricting access to firearms — an absolute nonstarter — there’s simply nothing we can do about it. Not a single sensible answer exists. Which is why we have to abandon sensibility, and latch on to some good ol’ fashioned American hardscrabble ingenuity.
We have to start killing our own children.
There’s something about the psyche of the average American conservative that makes them only truly win when someone else is losing.
There’s no victory in seeing everyone do better, because in the conservative mind, not everyone deserves to do better. What kind of world would it be if there was no punishment for making bad decisions?
[SHOUTED FROM OFFSTAGE] The world Donald Trump lives in?
Shut the hell up, imaginary person I’m using as a silly literary device. No one asked you. Continue reading
We can disagree about football. I like the Houston Texans, my dad follows the Texans but can’t shake his East Texas roots: he’s a Cowboys fan through and through. I’ve disliked the Cowboys pretty much my entire life. And Dallas, for that matter.
Dallas is what Houston would be if Houstonians lost everything that makes them interesting and fun. All that would be left is a bunch of boring people, sweating profusely, stuck in traffic. I will give them credit for the show, Dallas. And that’s only because (a) J.R. Ewing was a badass, and (b) the theme song reminds me of my childhood. So does the soundtrack to Urban Cowboy and the crisp, cool taste of Budweiser. It’s beechwood aged for that taste that says, “I’m 3 and drinking my uncle’s beer. Again.”
Blame it on my seasonal allergies. Or maybe it’s my various ailments attributable to age-related wear and tear. Mostly wear, but no significant tears. For that, I am grateful, as getting torn sounds quite painful.
Perhaps I just suppress my rage, and it’s bubbling out of my assorted head-holes now. But I’m feeling that familiar “I’d like to punch a baby right in its adorable pudgy face” feeling that I get now and then. Continue reading
I hacked America’s data, and I found out that we’re a bunch of terrible, idiotic human beings.
Okay, that’s a little over-the-top. It’s probably more accurate to say that many of us are terrible, idiotic human beings, and that incredibly vocal plurality is causing our national boat to careen dangerously starboard. Continue reading
Donald Trump is, hands down, the best example of American Christianity we’ve ever seen in the Oval Office. Now, before you go saying, “but he’s a despicable, womanizing, money-grubbing, chicken-hawk, terrible human being,” get comfortable, and allow me to state my case. Continue reading
Literally every right we have comes with limits.
We have the right to free speech, yet I can’t libel people. I can’t (legally) threaten people with bodily harm. I can most definitely use inflammatory rhetoric, but I can’t use it to incite violence without facing criminal charges. I can’t yell obscenities outside at 3 am, apparently. I have first-hand knowledge about that last one, courtesy of the Houston Police Department and some pissed-off neighbors circa 2000. Continue reading
I own a restaurant in Washington, DC, about four blocks from the speaker’s stage for March For Our Lives. It’s called Merzi, look us up!
I had a front row seat to the Women’s March in 2017, and saw hundreds of thousands of people engaging in their First Amendment rights to assemble, speak, and petition the government. It was awe-inspiring and emotionally moving. Continue reading
Several years ago, I read an interesting take on the purpose of marriage. It has stuck with me ever since. I wish I could find the original, but my ex-wife took it in the divorce. Here’s the gist:
Marriage isn’t meant to make you happy, it just makes you married. Being happy is your responsibility. But from the foundation of a good and stable relationship, you can seek your personal happiness instead of spending your energy seeking a mate.
It’s no one else’s responsibility to make you happy. No one can “make” another person happy. Your mate might make you happier. But in the end, your emotional state isn’t your partner’s responsibility. It’s yours. And it’s likewise not your partner’s fault if you’re miserable. Of course, it may not be yours, either. But your emotional state is still your responsibility, and yours alone. Continue reading
When you’re a kid, adults inspire you by saying, “You can be anything you want when you grow up!” Sometimes parents illustrate the true grandeur of that statement with a follow up: “…you could even be the president!”
My mom used to tell me that I was just too smart to be the president. Throughout my life, I’ve switched between believing my mom wholeheartedly, and thinking the premise is absurd. That switch has occurred once every eight years.