Every Morning I Wake Up and Check the Internet to See if Donald Trump is Dead

by Jared “the fake Yaley” Kootchner

Every morning I wake up and check the internet to see if Donald Trump is dead. The thought that he might be makes me want to smoke again.   It’s the only thing that will keep me going until he’s finally gone.  If I don’t see any news about Donald Trump being dead, I look to see if any of the other repugnant people who are part of his klan are dead*.

I don’t wish anything bad for Trump’s kids because we all know they wish their dad was dead as much as the rest of us so they can get their hands on the only thing that matters to them.

I’ve decided that wishing these people dead isn’t as horrible as these people themselves so my conscience is clear.  They can’t wish anything for me because they don’t know me.  I’m a nobody.  So as far as wishes go I have the upper hand which, small as it is, is still bigger than both of that filthy (allegedly alleged) rapist’s tiny, little hands.

Like all of you I’ve been suffering since the election.  Part of my suffering comes from the fact that I know that I’ll have a problem leaving my apartment because I live above a cigarette shop which makes it fucking hard for me to not smoke and also because Jackson, the man who owns the cigarette shop, voted for Trump.  He’s one of those “frontier” Americans who believes in personal responsibility and pulling one’s self up by one’s bootstraps but when he has a bad day it’s the Indian guy who owns the store across the street (“fucking Arab is taking all my business”) that gets the blame.

“Fucking foreigners”, he’d say.

“I’m a foreigner”, I’d say.

“Yeah”, he’d say.  “But you’re from Russia”.

I’m actually not from Russia.  But I’m thinking I gotta get a couple of spray paint cans and leave a message for Jackson in good old-fashioned American English on the front of his store.

Jackson says he just wants the white man to get a fair shot again.  They don’t want “other” people getting special treatment   And what they mean by special treatment is equality.  I think it’s too much of a shock to their sense of entitlement (which Jackson wants to get rid of) and privilege.  First a mixed-race president then a woman president?

And in between they were punished with gay marriage (now everyone is gay just like the Republicans said—thanks gay marriagers), whispers of equal pay for women (which would be special treatment because it would mean, uhm, equality), healthcare coverage for 20 million people (that’s fucking outrageous—people don’t get sick in America because the water is so clean), and legalized marijuana (which they don’t really care about because they’re all on meth anyway).  The only kind of president that could follow a mixed-race president is a racist, sexist, (most likely rapist) asshole.  But you know what?  Most of America’s presidents have been racist, sexist assholes until recently so I guess we’re used to it.  So become who you are racists like the new neo-nazis like to say (an idea stolen from Nietzsche).  Become who you are.

Just a quick aside about the new neo-nazis led by Dick “Richard” Spencer—they’re funny.  They’re funny because it’s difficult not to think of them as a group of chums playing Nazi dress-up with a middle-school understanding of Nietzsche.  Science has taught us that these white “supremacists” go to such an extreme because they’re terrified of the sexual attraction they have for black men.  So become who you are and give in to your desires.  Racist cluck-suckers.

Anyway, I wasn’t sure how I was going to sneak out of the apartment without having to deal with Jackson.  It was causing me some serious anxiety.  I looked out my window.  It wasn’t too far from the ground but it was too far for me to make a get-away without doing damage to myself.  I didn’t even know why I was worrying about it.  I mean it wasn’t my fault or the Indian guy’s fault across the street or hard-working immigrants or some Syrian kid’s fault thousands of miles away that Jackson’s life sucked.  That was his own damn fault.  He should pull himself up by those fucking bootstraps he’s always talking about.  And as far as I knew his life did suck.  He’s a fucking slob.  Women hate him.  And I fucking hate him too.

I know this isn’t the only state like that.  I know in other states like Iowa, Indiana, and West Virginia where about 80-90% of the people are white they somehow manage to blame the couple of dark people who accidentally live there for all their troubles. So much for personal responsibility.

But if he’s to blame for his own shitty life who can I blame for Trump?  Is it the people who voted for a third party?  The blacks who didn’t vote for Hillary?  The Hispanics who didn’t vote for Hillary?  The women who didn’t vote for Hillary?  Was it me?  Actually, I’ll just blame the people who voted for Trump.  But there’s also another repugnant group of people that should bear some responsibility for the travesty of the election: the media.  They like to laugh about this shit from a distance because, despite all their concerned frowns and manicured hand-wringing, they don’t really care about the people in this country.  Being a good “newsperson” (whatever the fuck that is) nowadays means going viral.

They know who they are because they get defensive when they’re criticized for their many (many many) shortcomings.  Their idea of both sides is that for every truth there must also be a lie or just whatever the opposite of what one side says regardless of whether it makes any fucking sense or not.  Jackson is an intolerant racist but I’m also an intolerant anti-racist(?) because I’m not tolerant of his intolerance.  Well, yeah. We should be intolerant of intolerance.  What the fuck right?

I mean I love the spectacle as much as anyone but for serious news people?  There’s no fucking news show today without a spectacle.  And I get it.  People want the spectacle.  That’s why some of these shows that Jackson watches like I’m a Famous Woman and You Wish You Could Grab My Pussy or I’m a Famous Man and You Wish You Could Grab My Dick are popular on television.  Sometimes the spectacle is okay.  But not when we’re talking about electing a president.

Jackson mainlines Fox News but even some of the people on the other shows that you’d think would provide some real information are fucking worthless.  Chris “I can’t talk without spitting” Matthews, for example, can have an entire show with his wife interviewing him about his shitty book but he can’t have the candidates on for even half a show to talk about policy?  Joe “I’m a smug asshole who gets defensive when people want an intelligent answer to a real question” Scarborough and his (what is that person?) smiley-face mop-head sidekick (the two of whom licked Trump’s asshole on a phone call through the phone—that’s talent) spent 45 commercial-fucking-free minutes with Michael Moore to discuss the election after the election was over.  They couldn’t go commercial-free to discuss anything real with the candidates before the election.

But you know what?  The American people themselves are to blame especially the American people who helped get Trump elected.  Jackson and I were talking before the election and he was complaining that he didn’t know what Hillary Clinton stood for.  I had to shake my damn head.  How can you not know what she stands for?  How about reading what she’s written about what she stands for or just listening to what she says?

Seriously though, doesn’t anybody read anymore?  You don’t know what a candidate thinks about climate change?  How about fucking reading what they’ve written about it.  Don’t understand how they plan to fix America’s crumbling infrastructure?  How about fucking reading what they’ve written about it.  And then you say you’re not sure what they stand for?  How about fucking reading what they’ve written about it.  Etcetera. Etcetera. Et fucking cetera.  If you’re like Jackson and you tell me that you don’t know what a candidate stands for just know that I’m thinking you’re a giant fucking dumbass.

But I couldn’t stay in my apartment forever.  I’d already had the conversation with Jackson in my head a dozen times.  I knew what he was going to say.  I figured I’d just walk down there and deal with it.  He’d tell me that I need to accept the results.  Obviously that’s a load of fucking bullshit. I don’t have to accept a fucking thing especially the fuckheads that are going to be running the country into the ground. As the great Frederick Douglass once said:  The thing worse than rebellion is the thing that causes rebellion.   He also said:   Those who profess to favor freedom, and yet deprecate agitation, are men who want crops without plowing up the ground.  I actually read that in a book.  Jackson doesn’t like book learning (unless it’s the Bible) because that would make him one of the “elites”.  So if reading and learning stuff is all it takes to be accused of elitism then I’m a fucking elitist sumbitch.

I told Jackson one time that if you’re part of that group of people who was born with rights and never had to fight for a single right (e.g., the right to vote, the right to marry, the right to equal pay, the right to not being a fucking slave for chrissake) then you can’t understand that those rights can be taken away.  His argument was that nobody’s rights would be taken away despite all the evidence that shows that’s exactly what they mean by taking their country back and making America great again.  So he can just deal with the fact that I’m not going to accept jack shit.

I ended up jumping out of the window and sort of spraining my ankle.  But I didn’t do it to avoid Jackson.  I just needed some time to plan my next move.  After wandering through town for a little while I went and bought a couple cans of spray paint (there were only 2 left) and spray painted “RIOT FELICE”, “IMMIGRANTS WELCOME HERE”, “WOMEN’S RIGHTS ARE HUMAN RIGHTS” all over the front of Jackson’s store.

Then I limped through the doors, bought a pack of cigarettes, pulled one out of the pack, lit it up, and told Jackson that I thought he was a racist, sexist asshole because he voted for Trump.   There was no way of getting around that.  I may not let other people who voted for Trump know what I think of them because I have a feeling it’s going to get tiring.  But if you voted for Trump just know that when you’re talking to me and I’m smiling at you that inside I’m thinking you’re a racist, sexist, immoral, unsavory, repugnant asshole twat.

I smoked the cigarette, dropped it on the ground, and put it out with my foot.  I threw the pack at Jackson.  It bounced off his big belly and landed upright on the counter.  It stood there between us like it was waiting to see who would draw first.

–The End–

*Mike Pence (prototype repressed homosexual—I have gay friends but he wouldn’t be one of them),

Rudy Giuliani (wishes he was born a white woman so Trump can grab his pussy),

Kelly Anne Conway (wishes she was born a white man even though nobody in the world—not even her husband we bet—wants to grab…okay, let’s not go there),

Corey Lewandowski (still trying to get his father’s approval),

Jeff Sessions (actually scared of his own shadow because it’s dark),

Melania Trump (a plagiarism of Ivanka and Marla),

Reince Priebus (weakest man in the world),

Steve Bannon (wishes he was Eva Braun in a past life).

Jared “the fake Yaley” Kootchner is a real pseudonym. He’s a middle school Nietzsche teacher who likes to smoke and play a little bandy on the weekends. 

Editor’s note: This [explain activity] was prepared or accomplished by [insert author’s name] in his personal captivity. The opinions expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not reflect [Do they not though, really? Reflect, I mean. Like why publish something that doesn’t reflect? If it doesn’t reflect, why fucking publish it in the first place? That’s fucking stupid. Oh well.] the view of the National Institutes of Health [RIOT FELICE RIOT], the Department of Health [RIOT RIOT RIOT] and Human Services [FELICE], or the United States government [FINGERS CROSSED!].

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