The act of “canceling” people is as old as civilization itself.
Sometimes we canceled people via exile. Sometimes it was through removing their heads from their bodies. But the reasoning was always the same:
You did something that badly compromises our community’s shared values, so you gotta go.
Before humans started divvying up the hunting versus the gathering, we already had the basics of a limited social contract. It went something like this:
“What’s up, fellow hominid? Here’s my offer: in honor of the fact that you look vaguely similar to me, I won’t kill you when you turn your back. In consideration thereof, kindly don’t kill me when I’m not looking, either. Sound good? Kthxbye.”
Imagine you’re a reporter. After a long day of work, you
start having excruciating chest pains. You think this may be the end.
You call 911, and barely squeak out, “My chest is tight, I can’t breathe.” The minutes blur as you lie on
the floor, bargaining and pleading with your maker to survive until the
At last, the EMT rushes in. He comes to your side and
immediately kneels down to whisper something to you:
“I see you need my help. I can help you. But first, I want you to do us a favor, though. I want you to get on the news and say you’ve discovered incriminating details about my ex-wife. She’s done a lot of bad things, and it would really help everyone.”
I have a theory. It’s so far-fetched, even I don’t believe
it. But if enough people start talking about it, maybe it’ll help our country.
Or it’ll hasten our demise. I have no idea, I’m just a blogger, so take
everything I write with your daily recommended allowance of salt.
Unless I’m right, and then YOU HEARD IT HERE FIRST, FOLKS.
Donald Trump is an agent provocateur, leading a false flag operation on behalf of the Democratic Party.
Donald Trump’s Supreme Court nominee Brett Kavanaugh has been accused of sexual assault.
The Republicans are lining up to dismiss, obfuscate, victim-blame, and otherwise do their Republican duty to be abject cockwaffles at every turn. I’ll give them this: they are insanely talented at it. The ability to choreograph such precise cockwafflery in unison deserves a round of applause, whether we like the actual cockwafflery or not. Continue reading
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.”
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
Let’s say you’re a supporter of a professional football team. We’ll call them the Orangemen. Not the Syracuse Orangemen, since they’re just the “Orange” now. Same state though, just for consistency’s sake. The New York Orangemen.
A flamboyant, rich businessman sees an opportunity, swoops in and buys the team. His name is Ronald. Ronald Chump. Continue reading
There’s nothing especially courageous about saying Donald Trump is nuts. He is, objectively, the most narcissistic, unpredictable, and petulant man to ever hold the office of President of the United States. Sure, maybe “nuts” isn’t the right way to frame the man’s clearly evidenced personality deficiencies. But, in layman’s terms, Donald Trump is more than nuts. To paraphrase the Secretary of State, he’s “fucking nuts.”
Democrats have been saying Trump is insane and his followers are deplorable since he descended the golden escalator back in 2015. “Descend the golden escalator” sounds like a euphemism for something slimy, but in this case…well, it’s still slimy, just in a different way. Continue reading