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The Little Boys Who Cried Bitch

Here’s something every moderately sane and/or intelligent person knows by now: Donald Trump is a uniquely dangerous candidate for President of the United States.

We’re not talking about the standard dynamic wherein each side thinks the other side’s candidate would be a terrible choice based on policy differences and partisan disdain. No, this is different. And even Republicans are starting to come around to understanding that now that they’ve heard him say “pussy,” “fuck,” “bitch,” and “tits.” (Never mind that his contempt for women and just about every other non-white male demographic you can name has been well known for ages—he crossed the line when he was caught on a hot mic using a few of the seven dirty words.)

So now we’re hearing a lot of variations on “I won’t vote for Hillary Clinton because I think she would be catastrophic for this country, but I won’t vote for Donald Trump either.” This reveals a deeper well of cowardice than it’s probably even possible to articulate, but let me just make a couple points about it.

First, grow the fuck up. Stop your insipid whining, grab yourselves by your pussies and/or balls, and make a goddamned adult decision based on the valid options in front of you. One of these two people is going to be President of the United States and you don’t get to take your toys and go home just because your party liquid-shit the bed when your wife came home while you were having meth-addled butt sex with an underage prostitute.

But I understand why they’re walking this line and that brings me to my second point: I have often said that while Democrats think Republicans are greedy, bigoted, sexist, and wrong about almost everything under the sun, Republicans think Democrats are evil. That’s partly because a lot of them actually believe more concretely in the concept of evil because of their religious inclinations, but on a practical level it’s also just the weapon Republican operatives and politicians have chosen to carry into battle.

And so they’ve spent decades condemning Hillary Clinton (and countless other Democrats) in language that is just manifestly ridiculous. What they mean by “catastrophic” is “less-than-ideal within the normal range of political discourse and disagreement.” They’ve left no room on the good-to-apocalyptic spectrum to describe something worse than Hillary Clinton, even though they’re now tacitly acknowledging that Trump is worse than Hillary Clinton.

They’ve been bringing napalm to a game of chess. They’ve attacked her in language that makes it impossible for them to now deal honestly with the reality that their candidate is an unhinged maniac who endangers the republic while she’s just a politician they don’t care for who they must now admit is the infinitely superior choice and who must be elected to the highest office in the land.

It’s a twist on The Little Boy Who Cried Wolf. This particular little boy cried wolf every time a certain little girl came anywhere near his flock. He regarded that little bitch as a threat to his job security (she did have her eye on the position) and also he just found her to be super fucking annoying, so he tried to get the villagers to shoot her every time she came around. Fortunately, the villagers knew she was just little girl and not a wolf.

Well go figure, a goddamned wolf came along one day and ate the little boy’s fucking leg off and mangled his ugly face and already deformed genitals and now the only person left to finish off the wolf and save the boy and the flock is the little girl because the villagers are drunk and sleeping. Or some shit like that. I’ve lost the thread of the metaphor, but you get my drift…

We get it. You don’t like Hillary Clinton. Sorry, not sorry. You fucked up. You fucked up baaaaaad. Donald “Grab Em By The Pussy” Trump is your party’s nominee and standard bearer. You don’t get to pretend anymore that she’s a wolf. You get to suck it up and do whatever needs to be done to clean up the mess you created—and that means telling Americans to vote for Hillary Clinton.

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It Is Your Patriotic Duty To Humiliate Trump With Your Vote

610602226Surely you’ve taken a moment or two at some point to consider the Baby Hitler Time Travel Paradox which asks, obviously, “If you had a time machine, would you go back and murder baby Hitler?” It’s an interesting little thought experiment but also maybe a little dangerous and probably your answer ought to be “no,” because baby Hitler wasn’t guilty of anything and, also, importantly, was a baby.

If you’re going to murder baby Hitler, you should probably also take out millions of acquiescent citizens of Germany and the world who stood by and let that shit get horrifyingly out of hand. And that, I think, is really what the question is asking us to think about. Are there maybe things short of time traveling to kill babies that we can do to stamp out hatred and prevent terrible things from happening like, say, genocide?

For example, if you could go back to 1930 and, knowing then what you know now, deal a decisive and humiliating blow to the National Socialist German Worker’s Party (the Nazis) simply by lining up behind the Social Democratic Party, which stood the best chance of holding the line against Hitler, rather than wasting your vote on one of the other four niche parties—would you? That seems like a pretty easy call to me.

Or maybe, if you could only go back as far as 1932, you’d tell Thälmann and Duesterberg to fuck off in order to give von Hindenburg, whatever quibbles you might have with the man, a more decisive victory over Adolf Fucking Hitler in order to prevent him from gaining the clout he needed to be appointed chancellor?

I’d like to think I’d do that much to prevent the extermination of six million Jews.

Now look, I’m not saying Donald Trump is baby Hitler, but at the very least he’s an intellectually and emotionally stunted baby-man who, even if he’s not really the dangerous bigot he plays on TV, could very easily get a lot of people unnecessarily killed accidentally. 

Personally, I think he’s a empty vessel filling himself up with and then spouting whatever hateful nonsense will make a bunch of cranky old white men erect for the first time in decades. But he’s spouting it nonetheless and thus represents the very worst of America and humanity and is giving fresh energy to ideas that should have been taken out behind the barn and clubbed to death a long, long time ago.

If you are a person who agrees with the assessment that Donald Trump represents something simultaneously old and new, something frightening and potentially calamitous, then I’m here to tell you this:

You have a patriotic duty to humiliate this motherfucker into the dark ages with your vote. 

I would much rather be telling you why I think Hillary Clinton will make a terrific President of the United States—and I do—but that is way beside the point now. She will win and she will make a terrific President of the United States—but winning is not enough.

I don’t give a pig’s dick what you think Clinton’s flaws are. They pale in comparison and, more importantly, they don’t represent a corresponding cesspool of aggressive hate in the electorate. We must stamp out this racist, sexist, low class, low information flame. We must crush it with the force of a hundred billion drunken make-up fucks. An America that defeats Donald Trump decisively is objectively a far better America—morally, intellectually, politically—than an America in which he comes within a hundred miles of the White House.

And no, I’m sorry, but a vote for dumb Gary or kooky Jill doesn’t cut it. Perception is everything: Clinton 45/Trump 43/Johnson 11/Stein 1 looks like a close shave; Clinton 60/Trump 40 looks like we resolutely rejected this big orange pile of festering hot shit and everything he claims to stand for. I would like to think we could do even better than that, but I won’t get too hopeful.

We must deal the death blow to his ego that the Republican Party couldn’t muster. We must show the fringe lunatics supporting him that they truly are the fringe. We must make it clear that this is not welcome here. We must put this rabid dog down or it will come back to bite us in the ass.

So please accept this phenomenally reasonable bargain. No time machines, no baby killing—just a vote against dangerous demagoguery before people start getting hurt.

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Tonight At 9pm

Tonight at 9pm, a thing will happen, the absurdity of which cannot be overstated. It is an event without precedent because no such set of circumstances has ever even been imagined, let alone come to pass.

Tonight at 9pm, Hillary Clinton must appear on camera in the same room with Donald Trump and attempt to act as though what ensues is something resembling a serious discussion of important issues between rivals for the highest office in the known universe.

Tonight at 9pm, a former First Lady, Senator and Secretary of State who has devoted her life to public service must stand next to a trust fund baby-man who has devoted his life to the crass pursuit of wealth, power, trophy wives and attention and pay passable lip service to the notion that there are actually Americans out there who are not just simple bigots for whom this choice is not clear.

Tonight at 9pm, a woman of unquestionable intelligence and unrivaled qualifications must stand next to Donald Trump on a stage that will too closely resemble the stages across which he paraded young women in bikinis to be ranked on a scale of one to ten based on the subjective deliciousness of their nubile bodies and, to a lesser extent, their ability to utter a combination of words that loosely resembled a sentence or two.

Tonight at 9pm we enter the Kabuki Theater of False Equivalence wherein Hillary Clinton, even now, even when her opponent is a Cheetos-colored caricature of villainy, must delicately thread a needle while walking a tightrope in order to appear confident but not bitchy, knowledgeable but not haughty, forceful but not shrill, tough but not cunty, “human” but not like she’s on the rag or something.

Tonight at 9pm, Hillary Rodham Clinton must appear as the very first contestant on the pilot episode of the most ill-conceived reality television show in the history of civilization—a sort of bizarro world, inside-out version of The Truman Show.

[Well, shit…this post just became something else. Excuse me while I go down this rabbit hole for a minute.]

In the 1998 Jim Carrey film, The Truman Show, an unwanted baby is adopted by a corporation and raised in captivity as the unwitting star of a reality show made hugely popular by the sick and sad voyeurism of a culture with nothing else on its mind; the universe that he knows nothing of revolves around him.


Almost twenty years later that very same culture has reverse engineered the scenario. We allowed ourselves to be so mindlessly entertained by so much vapid nonsense that a corporate con-man has managed to pour himself into the void that should have been occupied by our powers of discernment and critical thinking to become the knowing center of gravity in our universe.

We have turned all of the cameras on Trump, but Trump is nothing more than a cipher of our own making and so the cameras are immediately refracted back at us, making us sick and sad voyeurs of our own self-abasement and destruction.

And so this is the surreal fucking shitshow that Hillary Clinton must subject herself to at 9pm tonight—less debate than some kind of shitty post-reality meta performance art. Months ago, I started writing a post arguing that she should refuse to participate on these grounds, but what I found was a perfect Catch-22—i.e. the notion of anything resembling a debate with Donald Trump is farcical on its face, but showing up is the only way to demonstrate just how farcical it is.

Hillary Clinton must “debate” Donald Trump because of course. A woman was not going to rise to the presidency without one final, cosmically ultimate indignity. Honestly, it almost feels as though the perceived inevitability of her nomination might have subconsciously contributed to the willingness of Republicans to choose this black hole of a sick joke masquerading as a festering garbage person in a pedophile clown suit.

Anyone who says that anyone “won” the debate tonight is a worthless fucking chowderhead. Hillary will comport herself like the stateswoman she is and come out looking like gold and smelling like roses by comparison in the eyes of anyone with an ounce of intellect and/or self respect, but we’ve all lost just by letting this be a thing that is going to happen tonight at 9pm.

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The Political Revolution Is Dead! Long Live Politics!

So, on your way to the camps, I want you to know that I just couldn’t get myself to vote for that woman because I hated everything about her. I’m sorry you’re going to have to live in a detention center for a while, but her voice, you’ll have to agree, is really irritating. Hopefully they let you out in two to three years when we figure this all out, like he promised.

That’s an excerpt from “On Your Way To The Camps, I Just Want You To Know…,” Aaron Loeb’s stunning modernization and twist on the famous poem that ends “Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.” You should absolutely read the entire piece.

Loeb said eloquently something that I’d like to now be more direct about.

Yes, I’m an old man. Well, I’ll be 40 in November…so, you know, I’m not a millennial. I’ve striven these last nine months to not spend every waking moment screaming the political equivalent of “Get the fuck off my lawn you stupid fucking douchebag kids!” (Don’t get me wrong, I’ve spent some time doing just that, but I’ve tried to restrict myself to select private Facebook arguments.)

It’s time to embrace the curmudgeon who lives inside of me.

Look, anyone who has a lot of time on their hands could (privacy settings permitting) go back through my personal Facebook page and see that I’ve been nothing short of a blisteringly loud-and-proud, socialist-atheist, far-left liberal nut for all of my adult life. I’ve been particularly loquacious around the issues of wealth inequality, systemic racism, women’s rights, and LGBTQ rights. My positions on other issues are every bit as libtardy as Sean Hannity would expect.

I am also a voracious consumer of information. My liberal beliefs were not inculcated in me during my childhood; I came by them honestly—after 13 years of Catholic education—through books and newspapers and periodicals and conversations and speeches. I’m not a genius, but I am very well informed.

I am also, as the title of this blog suggests, exceedingly and virulently rational. It is the rationalist in me that knows the following things:

At the macro level, there are two ways to change the things we don’t like about our society—politics and revolution. Politics and revolution are not compatible; revolution is practically the opposite of politics.

Revolution only happens if and when a critical mass of people in a society determine that things are so bad that they’re ready to sacrifice everything they have to go out in the streets and fight for a better future for those who will come after them. The things they might have to give up include but are not limited to jobs, possessions, time, blood, sweat, tears, money, regular showers, regular meals, family, friends, their lives, and maybe—just maybe—even Netflix.

Not voting is not a revolution.

Voting for a third party candidate is not a revolution.

Saying you’ll reluctantly vote for the “lesser of two evils” is not a revolution.

For reference, anything that might rightfully be called revolution probably involves you breaking a sweat.

Short of revolution, we have politics. Politics is a big, cumbersome, frustrating thing that requires cumulatively more sustained attention and effort over a longer period of time, but far less dramatic and immediate sacrifice. It requires patience and cooperation and compromise. Politics frees us up to pursue our lives while devoting as much or as little extracirricular time and energy as we so choose to the work of shaping our society through activism, speech, volunteerism, donating and voting.

Politics requires a capacity for delayed gratification. Now I get that you want to jizz in this particular sock right this very second, but unless you’re ready for actual revolution you’re going to have to slow your fucking roll and wait a minute.

I know…Bernie didn’t win so you want a third party and/or the Democratic establishment to learn a lesson and/or Hillary to coddle your delicate, fragile fucking ego by pandering to every boutique issue you’ve cared about for the last three minutes and/or whatever it takes to validate your newfound rage against a system you had precious little interest in or knowledge of until a bird landed on a podium and you saw Jesus—but again, unless you’re so angry that you’re ready to get off Facebook and go be an unwashed hippie in the streets, those are ridiculous requests that you can shove right up your milleniasshole.

Politics is fundamentally a struggle between two poles that correspond to the the extent to which we think government should play a role in the lives of its citizens—i.e. liberalism argues for a robust role for government, conservatism for a minimal one—and at any given point in time the question is essentially whether we want to inch to the left or the right. (Please see this fantastic Twitter thread from @SheWhoVotes for more on this subject.)

The question is not whether we want to leap to the left or the right; politics simply doesn’t allow for leaps. In fact, our system was specifically designed to prevent such leaps so that we would not be susceptible to waves of reckless and shortsighted populism. It is called incrementalism and it is what has made our system incredibly stable over time. It’s why you have a tiny computer in your pocket that will find you someone within a one-mile radius who wants to fuck.

There’s just one small but important thing we have to do to keep the system stable: not elect an ignorant psychopath.

If an ignorant psychopath had secured the Democratic nomination (unlikely given the rules governing the Democratic primary process), I would be arguing that it would be better to inch to the right than elect that person to the highest office in the land—and that’s essentially what principled, intelligent Republicans are saying right now. They’ve done the cost-benefit analysis and determined that they’d rather lose a little ground to the left than hand the nuclear codes to a deranged clown with Tiny Penis Overcompensation Syndrome.

More importantly, they’ve determined that they have a better chance of reaching their long-term goals by working to elect someone they have despised for decades and with whom they disagree on just about every issue you can think of. And make no mistake, they’re counting on you to minimize the leftward inching by depressing voter turnout and ensuring that Clinton doesn’t have the mandate or the votes in Congress to get much of anything done.

It’s time for you to do the math and realize that you have an even better chance of reaching your long-term goals by working to elect someone you’ve hated for whatever short span of time you’ve been paying attention to politics but who agrees with you on at least 90% of the issues you care about—and that you have the ability to maximize the leftward inching based on the extent to which you rally support and drive voter turnout in this and every other election.

It’s time for you to quit the pathetic fucking pity party over Bernie and act like a grown ass person who understands that sometimes we have to make choices that don’t boil down to a) the best thing ever and b) the worst thing ever.

If you actually care about the things you say you care about, it’s time to stop fucking around and act like it.

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Deplorables In Disguise

14237511_10154455047669804_6064811346713249621_nAmong the basket of interesting things I encountered on Day One of my drive along I-90 from Spokane, Washington to Milwaukee, Wisconsin were: the continental divide, a sign for the 33rd Annual Testicle Festival in Clinton, Montana, and the fun fact that a 26-foot Penske rental truck packed with all of one’s earthly belongings and towing a car can’t do much better than 30 miles per hour on an incline of any degree greater than 0%.

I also encountered Linda the Cashier.

I pulled my rig up to a diesel pump at the The Town Pump truck stop in Three Forks, Montana and discovered that there was a confusing array of fuel choices at this establishment—diesel #1, diesel #2, 50/50 diesel, diesel exhaust fluid. Unsure how to proceed, amateur truck driver that I am, I went inside to seek guidance from the friendly staff.

And the staff was friendly—especially Linda the Cashier. When the first attendant I spoke with couldn’t answer my stupid question, she referred me to Linda. Linda was happy to explain, “You want diesel #1 because it’s not winter yet, honey.”

Seeing that this process was new to me, Linda forewarned me that I wouldn’t be able to pay at the pump and asked me how much fuel I’d like. Not yet sure how much the truck would take, I asked if I could just prepay $100 and have the balance refunded. “Sure,” Linda offered, “but just so you know, honey, depending on your bank it can take a little while to put the money back on your card.”

Then my card was declined. It turns out that my bank had grown suspicious of my debit card’s travels and needed me to verify some transactions to prevent fraud. All the while, Linda was exceedingly patient with me. I stepped to the side and let another customer step up to transact with the lovely Linda.

That’s when the following interaction occurred:

Customer: [out of the clear fucking blue] Well, it’s just like Obama says – none of us should even have jobs, we should all just sit around like bums and take government checks.
Linda the Cashier: [full throated and matter-of-factly] He’s not even a citizen.
Customer: Like he’s ever held a real job in his life.
Cashier Linda: [Looking around to make sure she’s being heard.] He’s not even a citizen. He’s not even a citizen.

I steeled myself, realizing that I was in the wrong place to get into a debate about the President’s provenance. It’s not that I don’t know these people exist—I do—but it’s always a shock to the system to hear these things uttered aloud. My blood boiled and I honestly had to take a few deep breaths before stepping back up to complete my fuel purchase.

Yes, I thought about leaving. Instead, I calmly and politely told Linda “I doubt that it will matter, but I want you to know that I’ll be contacting Town Pump to let them know that they have an employee who actively and repeatedly questioned the citizenship of the president of the United States in front of customers. Have a nice day.”

But here’s the point I really want to make about this experience: Linda the Cashier is exactly the sort of person the Trump campaign is defending in their manufactured furor over Hillary Clinton’s “basket of deplorables” comment. They say that Clinton is “viciously demonizing hard working people like you.”

You know…people like hard working, sweet-as-honey, corn-fed, church-going charmers like Linda.

Feel the phony indignation:

NEW Trump TV ad responds to “Basket of Deplorables” comment by Hillary Clinton

NEW Trump TV ad responds to “Basket of Deplorables” comment by Hillary Clinton NEW Trump TV ad Trump TV Ad Deplorables Deplorable Attack Ad Hillary Clinton Basket of Deplorables Donald Trump 2016 General Election Television Ads Campaign Racist Sexist Homphobic Racism Sexism Pepe Alt Right 4chan AntiMuslim Syrian

Here’s the conundrum. Yes, in her everyday life, Linda is a real slice of home-cooked apple pie in the eyes of those who encounter her (just as she would have remained in my eyes had I not overheard this idiotic exchange). And in that extremely limited sphere, they’re 100% right.

But Linda the Cashier is also a deplorably ignorant fucking bigot who is actively making America a more hateful, less functional, more dangerous, less prosperous place. I suppose we could argue about whether it’s Linda herself who is deplorable or Linda’s ideas that are deplorable—but that strikes me as a distinction without a difference.

On the surface, the deplorables are paragons of American virtue. Beneath the surface, they believe very stupid, very noxious things:

  • Two-thirds of Trump supporters believe Obama is a Muslim
  • 59 percent of Trump supporters believe Obama was not born in the United States
  • 40% of Trump supporters believed that blacks were more “lazy” than whites and nearly 50% believed blacks were more “violent” than whites
  • A substantial portion supported banning LGBT people from the United States

The deplorables are out there—and they look and act like Linda the Cashier. Pointing to however many characteristics they possess that are not inherently deplorable is not a valid defense against their ghastly views. Their positive traits do not outweigh their hatred of non-white people. Their work ethic does not cancel out their support for hateful, discriminatory policies. Linda’s folksy smile does not mitigate the harm done by her execrable worldview.

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White Privilege Isn’t What You Think It Is

White privilege is a tough concept to explain, especially to touchy white guys who think that it’s merely another accusation of racism. It’s not. I stumbled upon a very practical example of my own white privilege this week that I hope might clarify the term just a bit.

My family and I are moving across the country in about a month. We’re looking to rent in our new city and conducting our search exclusively via email and  phone.

A tactic that I have found to be very useful in the past and which is already showing signs of success this time around is this: when we find something we really like but which is maybe a little above our price range, we send an email pitching ourselves as great tenants who will take excellent care of the landlord’s investment.

I also attach a picture of the three of us. I do this because I think it’s pretty clear from looking at us that we’re not slobs who will trash the place. I do this to add a corresponding visual to the professional, polite, articulate manner we project via voice and email communication.

Some people—people who don’t look like us, for example—can’t assume the same thing. If you don’t look like us, depending on the particular market, there’s a far greater chance that sending a picture would trigger passive or active biases in the decision maker’s mind. A black or brown person in our position might well decide that sending a picture would be detrimental to their prospects.

Now here’s the key: I haven’t done anything wrong here. My goal is not to show potential landlords that we’re caucasian. My goal is to show that we have clean clothes and friendly faces.

My white privilege in this situation consists of a simple, undeniable fact that has nothing at all to do with my motives or character and that is this: there is an approximately 0.0005% chance that a photo of us will make someone less likely to select us as tenants; it may very well not move the needle at all, but it’s certainly not going to diminish our chances.

In other words, white privilege isn’t what you think it is. It’s not something bad that you’re doing. It’s something that you have as a white person, whether you’re a backwater bigot or a civil rights champion.

So when people ask you to “check your privilege,” don’t worry, they’re not really asking you to give anything up! They’re merely asking you to be reflective in a way that might lead you to better understand the ways in which other people lack your privilege and how that might impact their ability to move up in the world—or even survive.

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Cleveland Steamer

Cleveland Steamer \ˈklēv-lənd\ \ˈstē-mər\ — colloquial term for a form of coprophilia, wherein someone defecates on someone else’s chest.

We hope you enjoyed Hyperationalist’s first commissioned piece of art. We’re very happy with the the work of the artist, a gentleman who prefers not to be named because…well, because we asked him to draw a picture of an elephant shitting on Uncle Sam’s corpse.

We think the image speaks for itself.

Now please follow us on Twitter and/or like us on Facebook for more of this shit.

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No, Cleveland Police Dude, You Can’t Suspend Open Carry Today

Cleveland Police Department Detective and Police Association president Steve Loomis is a raging dickhead and a racist piece of shit who, today, would like the Governor of Ohio or someone, anyone, whoever, to suspend the state’s open carry laws because—oh, what do you know?—today open carry seems like kind of a bad fucking idea to him. Today.

In the past, he has “strongly supported citizens’ rights to bear arms.” Today, however, he told Reuters:

I don’t care what the legal precedent is, I feel strongly that leadership needs to stand up and defend these police officers…We are sending a letter to Gov. Kasich requesting assistance from him. He could very easily do some kind of executive order or something—I don’t care if it’s constitutional or not at this point.

Hey fuckstick, maybe if you’d given a shit about dead children and dead civilian adults before you suddenly decided to turn into a great big pussy about it because suddenly police lives seem to be more on the line than usual…maybe then you’d at least have an ounce of credibility.

Detective Steve Loomis and Miss Ohio

But today? Today you don’t. Today you look like a big fucking hypocrite. Today you look like a person who wants one set of rules for him and his people while the rest of us have to live with a different set of rules.

Today you look like a person who wasn’t concerned about gun violence until you realized that open carry applies to black people too and now you can’t tell the difference between the “good guys with guns” and the bad guys with ill intent.

Besides, if you criminalize open carry, only bad guys will open carry, right? Or does that actually sound pretty good right about now?

Let me get a straight answer on this: Steve Loomis, does open carry make us more safe or less safe? If it makes us more safe, then there’s no room for prevarication. Whatever bad shit you’re afraid of as the Republicans come to Cleveland, having guns around should help you breathe easier.

If it makes us less safe, you should have said so long before today and you should be calling for a permanent and statewide prohibition on the practice, not a temporary one around the shitshow that is the Republican National Committee’s convention.

Or maybe you’re just extra worried because the New Black Panthers are encouraging their members to legally open carry in Cleveland? But see here’s the thing: I’m worried about all kind of different groups, white and black, carrying stupid fucking penis substitutes  guns around in public so hey, can I just call for a prohibition on open carry when and where I want it too?

No, Cleveland police guy. You cannot suspend open carry today, but you can work to end it side-by-side with the rest of us who are sick and fucking tired of gun violence in America.

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Statement On The Failure Of Our Petition To Allow Open Carry At The GOP Convention

Remember that one time when Hyperationalist launched a satirical petition to allow guns at the Quicken Loans Arena during the Republican National Committee’s convention and it kind of turned into a whole thing? Here’s a little refresher:


Anyway, the convention is upon us and while there are guns all over Cleveland, there are none in the hands of the civilians in the main convention hall. We failed. Sad!

If you’ve arrived here by any means other than the email we sent out via, here’s the official update we sent regarding the “failure” of that petition:

In spite of tremendous support from over 55,000 concerned patriots across the nation, our petition to spread freedom to Cleveland and beyond has failed.

Apparently in Crooked Hitlary Clinton’s “politically correct” libtard America, some people would rather not be surrounded by high-powered semi-automatic assault weapons with high-capacity cartridges—and so the oppressive policies of Barack HUSSEIN Obama’s regime remain in place.

We at Hyperationalist will continue to fight the good fight until all Americans are free to exercise their God-given Constitutional right to carry any kind of firearm, anywhere they want, at anytime of day or night.

All snark aside, there was no change in the policy because any idiot knows that would it would be monumentally fucking stupid to let people to carry guns into the Quicken Loans Arena under normal circumstances, like during a basketball game or a Maroon 5 concert, let alone during the 2016 Republican National Committee convention at which Donald Trump will be noinated.

But also, because the Secret Service said so.

A note regarding the Secret Service’s policy regarding guns in the convention hall: We at Hyperationalist obviously agree 100% that guns should not be allowed into the Quicken Loans Arena next week. Or the week after that. Or the week after that. Or at any time or place where people gather to shop, be entertained, eat, work, learn, play, protest, etc.

The fine public servants at the Secret Service are simply enforcing a rule that makes absolute sense in all places, at all times, because it is their job to keep people certain people safe—and banishing guns from the places where those people will be is the very best way to ensure their safety.

We think this rule is perfectly reasonable and would very much like to see such a prohibition extended to include any and all public spaces where half-cocked assholes probably shouldn’t be carrying their penis substitutes/extensions deadly weaponry in and around our friends and families and fellow citizens (the ones who are not presidential candidates and political dignitaries).

But let’s be crystal clear about one thing: for the GOP to have used the Secret Service’s prohibition as a cop out in response to the petition is utterly laughable. How many times have congressional Republicans tried to repeal Obamacare now? Fifty times? Sixty times? Isn’t it logical that if they truly disagreed with this policy, if they genuinely held the Second Amendment so dear, they would have taken at least one shot at repealing the government tyranny represented by U.S.C. Title 18 § 3056, 1752.

If “gun-free zones” really are the unconstitutional kill zones Republicans tell us they are, this would have been a perfect time to walk the walk and show us all just how committed they are to the cause of eradicating them. Instead, on this one issue, they punted. “Aw shucks, we really would like to have guns at the convention but they said we couldn’t! Nothing we can do! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯.”

Let the record show that the one time they didn’t have the gumption to fight for the Second Amendment was coincidentally the one time it involved their own safety.

So obviously the petition wasn’t a failure. It sparked a brief national conversation around the hypocrisy of the NRAGOP’s position on guns—a hypocrisy that will be on full display next week as tens of thousands of anti-gunsense Republicans pack themselves into a convention hall without the metal machines of mayhem they insist the rest of us should have around us at all times.

In other words, the same Republicans who have helped the NRA and the gun manufacturers flood our country with guns, thus contributing directly to the resulting tens of thousands of gun deaths every year, will be hiding next week behind a “gun-free zone” policy that they claim to oppose, while the rest of us get to live in fear that our child will get shot in crossfire at the playground, that a drunk and abusive husband or boyfriend will get access to a gun, that a downstairs neighbor will be playing with a gun beneath a child’s bedroom, that we’ll be in the wrong place at the wrong time when an argument escalates at the grocery store, that a suicidal teenager will get his or her hands on a gun, that a heroic police officer will find himself targeted by a lunatic with a long gun, that a three-year old will find a gun and shoot himself in the face, and so on…

To this end, Hyperationalist will be monitoring the number and circumstances of gun deaths that occur all across the country between the opening and closing gavels of the convention. We will post a running tally, updated daily, of the roughly 400 Americans who are likely to die by gun while The Grand Old Party is safely tucked away in the gun-free Quicken Loans Arena

Of course, the rest of Cleveland is not a “gun-free zone,” leaving city officials concerned about the various individuals and activist groups who have promised to be loud and proud, carrying their viagra alternatives stupid fucking murder toys in and around the convention zone, blatantly ignoring the pleas of law enforcement officials even in the wake of Dallas.

Stephen Loomis, president of the Cleveland Police Patrolmen’s Association, said he strongly supported citizens’ rights to bear arms, but he is urging people not to take their guns anywhere near Cleveland’s downtown during the convention.

“The last thing in the world we need is anybody walking around here with AR-15s strapped to their back,” he said. “And the absolute tragedy in Dallas is proof positive that we just cannot allow that to happen. I would really just beg these folks, just leave your guns at home. Come, say whatever it is that you want to say, make whatever point it is that you want to make, but it’s going to be very, very difficult to deal with the R.N.C. as it is.”

The gobsmacking contradiction the petition sought to highlight is fully captured in Mr. Loomis’s brief statement. “Sure, everyone should be able to carry guns around, but just not here, please.”

Why, Mr. Loomis? Why not there specifically? And if not there, why anywhere else? Could it be that open carry is just a bad idea everywhere? Could it be that the same advice you’re offering to save the lives of cops might, if applied at all times and everywhere, help save the lives of cops, teachers, kids, firewo/men, pizza delivery guys, doctors, janitors, lawyers, churchgoers, etc.?

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All Lives Cannot Matter If Black Lives Don’t


I know that it seems incredibly obvious to you that “all lives matter” is an uncontroversial, indisputable statement of truth that should obviously antecede a narrower statement like Black Lives Matter.

It is and it should.

Unfortunately we do not live in the world as it should be.

We live in a world where some lives are manifestly undervalued in relation to others lives.

We live in a world where black lives have been historically, perpetually, systematically, unfathomably, irredeemably disadvantaged in relation to white lives.

We live in a world where even those African Americans who have made great strides against all odds have no expectation whatsoever that they will be treated any differently from the most dangerous criminals of any color.

The realities of shifting demographics, advancing technology and political pandemonium have precipitated a long overdue Come to Jesus moment regarding our failure to rehabilitate the race of people we methodologically destroyed in service of building the wealthiest society on the face of the earth.

I know you don’t see any of this, that you think whatever disparity exists is the result of life choices and character traits—and I understand why you think that.

You and I were raised to think it by people who were raised to think it by people who were raised to be indifferent to it by people who were raised to feel antipathy about its rectification by people who were raised to be virulently opposed to its rectification by people who were raised to firmly believe that black people were property to be bought and sold.

Just as African Americans were raised to live in fear as second-class citizens by people who were raised to live in fear as second-class citizens by people who were raised without the right to vote or drink from the same water fountains by people who were raised in redlined American ghettos as barely-free men and women by people who were raised to live in fear of lynching by people who were raised as the property that could be bought and sold.

However poor your daddy, your grandmammy, or your great granddaddy were, however hard they worked to pull themselves up by their bootstraps, however legitimately you think you’ve earned whatever you have or don’t have in your life…add up the all of that energy, determination, and resourcefulness and multiply it by several orders of magnitude and you might begin to get an inkling of a hint of the faintest sense of the immensity of the forces that were working against the mammies, granddaddies, and great grandmammies of your African American contemporaries.

The wind has always been at our forebears’ backs; a tsunami has always been crashing toward and against and on top of the people we brought here in chains and their descendants.

And the DNA of every facet of American life remains structurally contaminated by that history.

Yes, all lives should matter, but merely saying those words as a defense against the accusation that we don’t live by them is no defense at all.

It’s like saying “helium balloons of all colors fly” when, in fact, you know damn well that someone has tied the black balloons to bricks, popped them, and then burned and stomped on the remaining shreds.

Insisting upon the preeminence of the incontrovertible truth of the statement “all lives matter,” may feel good and righteous, but it makes you look very fucking stubborn and tone-deaf and ahistorical.

It makes you part of the problem.

Black Lives Matter is a thing because for too long our collective words and silences and actions and inactions have created the distinct impression that they do not.

Black Lives Matter is the oxidization on the can of communal existence that our parents and grandparents and great grandparents kicked down the road to us by failing to make amends for the actions of their parents and grandparents and great grandparents.

Black Lives Matter is the penance we must pay if we want a world for our children and grandchildren and great grandchildren that is not engulfed in internecine warfare.

Black Lives Matter is not an assertion that black lives matter more than other lives; it is a mantra that we must internalize until we know it and live it—until we can say with a straight face and a clear conscience that all lives matter.

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