Decades ago I "got in the face of" a woman I had considered to be my best friend of a lifetime who was bitching about how her taxes had gone up for the previous year and how unfair that was. In a normal tone of voice, I said to her, " I told you before we voted that so and so didn't give a shit about you by class and income and you pooh-poohed me, and he threw you under the bus." She got up and left the cronies' breakfast table we had sat at for years since La Madelaine in Dallas opened and never spoke to me again. Neither did any of her friends. I finished my half baguette, had another cup of coffee, read until it was time to drive on to work and did just that. I am not sorry I said what I said, nor where I said it. I learned several things that day. Most people do not want to hear the truth, and they don't want to hear it publicly. Most people who claim to be your friends, aren't. I continued to have breakfast and read there until a few weeks before I moved out of Texas for good. That was 20 plus years ago.
I've since lost friends and in part was disowned by family members over politics. No one likes to hear the truth unless it's flattery.
I can't live with applause. I do care if I've lost a genuine heart-met person from my life. However, I don't think that's the case. And right now, whether you faint of heart faux progressives are having widdul emoshunul communiptions, I don't give a rip. No more same old same old dammit. It's time to speak up again and probably die in a vacuum of hostility outside of the bell glass. Well, the last moments are turned inward anyway.
What follows still has some capitals in it for you faint of heart. The athritis is acting up something fierce today, along with the insomnia that comes with body aches, so I'm done editing things to keep you from throwing yourselves on your fainting couches and congratulating one another on how sensitive you are.
I. If you never met the children who were killed in Connecticut nor their parents, nor their teachers, and you're wringing your hands and you -- a) own a gun. b) Do not intend to spend a minimum of one hour a day until such a law is enacted working to get all but one solitary single-fire hunting rifle per person outlawed, then frack you, you paw-wringing, maudlin, smelly dog hysterics-for-show-hypopoopers. You don't hunt, you're emotionally useless, you're spiritually fleabitten. So, all of you there, get the frack off my porch. It's tiny, and there's no room for twits like you anyway. If I won't put up with door to door proselytizing Mor(m)ons or any other religion's idea-shills, dorks selling junk that's been outlawed by one regulatory agency or another and fools claiming to be realtors, them I have no room for you either.
II. If you think that your brief and ineffective and unintended stay at Happy Acres where you were involuntarily committed because you were a danger to yourself, even if not to others, makes it okay for you to own a solitary single fire hunting rifle or a handgun, you're wrong and frack you, hypocrites.
III. If you think that crazy people shouldn't have handguns but it's okay for you to have them, then frack you, you paw-wringing, poop-for-cranial-stuffing, equivocating stupid smelly-dog hypopoopers. You yipyipyappers get the frack off my porch, also.
For those of you who think it's your god-given right to own guns of all kinds, and/or to turn your "private property into an armed and booby trapped compound --
It's faux-liberally politically incorrect to tell you to frack off or to tell you to leave the country or to tell you to frack yourselves one last time and end your own and no one else's existence violently next to the graves you have thoughtfully dug for yourselves, as after all no one else should have to clean up after you ever again, so pretty please with treacle on it imagine a fitting and proper end for yourselves.
It's giving folks the vapors for me to say what I think every time I happen to mistakenly turn on the news and discover you've driven someone else to an act of mass mayhem AND enabled the poor b*stard to arm him/herself to the teeth in order to do that act of mass mayhem. As you're set in your ways, you've become an an enemy of your species, not just of your unwilling neighbors andnot just the personally unknown fellow citizens to whom you are no more than a probable somwhen terrorist, and whom good sane folks should have the brains and the gumption to be scared shitless of you, but probably don't. The paw-wringing fainting couch crowd are not part of that mass of normal folk. but never mind. You aren't aware in the first place. That's the problem.
I'm so g*d damned hearbreaking tired of the continual artificial very-last-rate drama made by all of you who are hooked on creating the milieu of violence which exists in this country and is blandly ingested with every newspaper you purchase, with most of the television you view, with a lot of the most popular music you listen to, with all of the reality TV you believe is "mahvelous" and "real" and how you should think and be.
I'm fed up with the phony bland "normalcy" thesome of the rest of you are determined to project as if THAT were any realer or healtheir than the obverse. It ISN'T. Does shouting offend you? Then get off your complacent winkled asses and stop the violence. Don't just get rid of the handguns. That's only the tip of the behavioral iceberg.
While it's unfashionable of me and censorable of me to suggest to those of you in this country who are in the usual pignorant right wing denial that anything's wrong with the US's milieu of waste, violence, excess, death, guns guns guns, handwringing without change, etc. that you limit your violence to yourselves ONLY, and that before you begin your ritual of violence upon yourselves that you dig your own graves and dispose of your worldly accumulation of death porn and cheetos and whatever else you've been hoarding and ingesting in such massive quantities, and since it's a societal no-no to tell you to feed yourselves to sharks, or leap off cliffs, can't you find SOME way to remove yourselves and your hell-bent on it mayhem and destruction and sickness OFF OF this poor SUFFERING PLANET?
The people who go crazy and actually DO the violence are driven to it by you, and by your unwililngness to pay for long-term care for folks like them when they're broken and can't be fixed and have literlaly worn out and worn down those who love them and tried to care for them. It's UNFASHIONABLE to treat or heal the most violent people, and it's a no-no to tell those of you who MAKE those poor souls crazy to do away with yourselves.
Where in hell is Jonathan Swift?
Now, seriously, please get off my porch, and if you ever gave a damn about the species you are a part of, get off the planet somehow. Please. Not for me. I'm old. For the young-uns others are going to pop out, against all reason.
Those of you who read this and had to run to mawmaw with the vapors -- and you know who you are -- go find a copy of the Monty Python show and search for the upper class twit of the year competition. The end should be very educational. Oh, yes, and have a nice day. Consider there to be a happy face graphic after that last statement.