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Hyperationalist Posts

On Golden Showers: Perception Is Everything

Donald Trump may or may not have hired Russian prostitutes to pee on him in a bed the Obamas once slept in. Vladimir Putin may or may not have video evidence of Russian prostitutes peeing on Donald Trump in a bed the Obamas once slept in. Trump and/or members of his team may or may not be compromised by knowledge that Putin has video evidence of Donald Trump being peed on by Russian prostitutes in a bed the Obamas once slept in.

Also, the Russians may or may not have other “compromising personal and financial information” about Trump.

Here’s the thing: it does not matter whether any of this is true or not. All that matters is that it seems entirely plausible that it might be.

There is not a single aspect of today’s bombshell revelation that is not COMPLETELY consistent with all of the available evidence we have about Trump, his character, his campaign, and/or his motives. I’m not even passing moral judgment on the alleged act, necessarily; I’m merely saying that Donald Trump could conceivably be compromised in any and/or every way, by anyone and/or everyone imaginable because he has never displayed a shred of evidence a) that he conforms to or even marginally respects any social norms, b) that he is motivated by anything other than pure self interest, or c) that he is not a puppet of Vladimir Putin.

The financial aspect is, of course, far more disturbing and potentially damaging to American interests—and if we could see Trump’s taxes perhaps we could at least set those concerns aside. But we can’t, apparently—and in the absence of evidence to the contrary, a Trump presidency will always be tainted by a completely fair concern that he is acting not in America’s best interests, but out of base self-interest and/or desperate self-preservation.

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The Infantilism Of Saying ‘Bernie Would Have Won’

Can we please talk for a moment about the idiocy of the people responsible for creating and propagating the sort of nonsense you see below…

Allow me to attempt an analogy:

You’re camping way out in the middle of nowhere with nine friends. While doing some hardcore nature shit one late afternoon, one of your friends suffers a grievous injury. A bear attack maybe. Or whatever stupid crap happens when you leave the safety and comfort of civilization. Anyway, it’s bad and you need to get this friend to a hospital before he bleeds to death.

All ten of you pile into the big-ass van you rented for this trip and head for help. It’s a long trip, but there is a shortcut. No one in your group has ever taken the shortcut before. It is understood to be a somewhat treacherous, off-road type of excursion, complete with narrow, cliffside, crumbling rock type shit—but it might could trim an hour off the ride and it would sure as hell be an awesome adventure.

There is much debate as the van approaches the fork in the road. Four members of the group are, like, super enthusiastic about taking the shortcut, regarding it as the only morally responsible choice. Everyone else can sort of see their point but think there’s something to be said for the whole “slow and steady wins the race” thing,” not to mention the advantages of familiarity. They know the regular route well, warts and all—and as night falls, they simply feel better about navigating its paved roads than taking a chance on this alleged miracle route.

A final vote is taken and the Historically Reliable Course (HRC) prevails. The van reaches the fork, stays to the [slight] right, and passes the point of no return. Four hours to go.

The course is set, but the brouhaha continues. Moral recriminations abound. The “shortcut-or-bust” (SOB) people are fucking pissed and they insist on continuing an argument that becomes less and less relevant with every passing mile marker.

The tide starts to turn, but ever so slowly.

One hour in, one SOB peels off. S/he’s not enthusiastic about the HRC but sees that the important thing is getting to the hospital. S/he also sees that the equation might ultimately boil down to six of one, half dozen of another. S/he continues, however, to defend the virtue of the remaining SOB stalwarts.

Two hours in, another SOB lapses into resigned silence. “The HRC is the road we’re on,” s/he reasons. “I hate the HRC, but there’s no use fighting over it now.” S/he makes no effort to broker peace.

Three hours in, a third SOB resigns in protest, asking to be let out of the van to plot an alternative route that no one else has yet considered. The driver obliges him.

With the lights of the city in view, the final SOB holdout is still causing a general ruckus. He can’t let it go. Everyone is exhausted and angry. The driver is exhausted, angry, demoralized and distracted by the ongoing screaming match. S/he drifts across the center line, into the path of a speeding Mack 18-wheeler hauling 10,000 metric shit-tons of flammable toxic waste mixed with the waste of a million county fair porta-potties.

The semi slices through the van like butter and the remnants of the van explode. Everyone is killed. The semi remains intact except for a gash in the side that begins to leak its noxious contents wherever it goes. Several miles down the road it crushes to death the former occupant of the van who was wandering like a lost idiot across the road in search of a third path.

All ten occupants of the van arrive in the afterlife together. To no one’s surprise, the lone remaining SOB extremist—dumb, sanctimonious piece of shit that he is—launches into the most despicable, self-serving, intellectually vapid, historically revisionist tirade imaginable: I TOOOOLLLLLD YOU WE SHOULD HAVE TAKEN THE SHORTCUT! I FUCKING TOLD YOU!!! IF WE’D TAKEN THE SHORTCUT, WE’D BE AT THE HOSPITAL RIGHT NOW INSTEAD OF DEAD!

It is, of course, impossible to know where they’d be right now if they’d taken the shortcut. Maybe they would, in fact, be at the hospital. Or maybe they would have plunged off a cliff and suffered the same fate. All we can know for sure is that a) they are all currently dead, b) useless, petulant infighting clearly played a major role in that outcome, and c) attempting to blame the initial choice is unfathomably reckless, obtuse, deluded and infantile.

When Bernie-or-Busters say “Bernie would have won,” they’re saying that the Democratic primary electorate should have collectively acquiesced to their grotesque hostage-taking antics; they’re admitting that they actively or passively got Donald Trump elected because we didn’t give them what they wanted; they’re conceding that Trump’s election is a cataclysmic outcome that could have been avoided, but only if we’d done it the way they prescribed because they are more important than everyone else.

But here’s the most disgusting thing: while minorities and women and children and scientists and military personnel and LGBTQ people and creatures that think and breath oxygen are cowering in fear of what a Trump administration will bring, these self-righteous fucksticks are taking a joyous victory lap because the catastrophic thing they insisted (threatened) would happen, a thing they were in a position to keep from happening if they’d just pulled their heads out of their asses, happened. (“Don’t bet on that horse, it will lose.” [Beats horse’s legs mercilessly with a tire iron. Gives steroids to another horse. ] “See, I told you it would lose.”)

So let me just say this to the SOB’s: You are infants. You are assholes. You are incomprehensibly stupid people. I hope you are the first to suffer and/or die in Trump’s America.




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It’s Time To Change The Way We Talk About Trump’s Tweets

It’s easy for those of us who live in the Twitter bubble to forget that Twitter is just not that terribly popular in the United States. It’s hard to pin down what percentage of the population uses it with any regularity, but as far as I can tell it’s not much more than 10% of the population. Facebook, by way of comparison, is closer to 60%, which amounts to the vast majority of the adult population.

Ask someone who is not at all familiar with Twitter about Twitter and they’re likely to scoff and tell you they can’t be bothered with learning what it is exactly or how to use it. It might as well be the Snapchats. You’ll immediately realize that they regard Twitter with a distant non-fascination, as some sort of newfangled gimmick—as though it is anything more or less than another means of conveying messages with words and images. 

I’ve begun to get the sense that when non-tweeters hear about “Trump’s tweets,” they regard them as something distinct from Trump’s words, Trump’s statements, Trump’s press releases, Trump’s recorded voice admitting to serially sexually assaulting women, etc. In other words, they seem to rank the contents of tweets beneath other forms of communication in terms of how seriously they should be taken.

When someone like John McCain says to reporters “I’m not talking about Trump. I’m not talking about Trump. I’m not talking about Trump,” as he did yesterday, it’s abundantly clear that the frustration he’s giving voice to comes from the constant barrage of questions related to the constant barrage of tweets emanating from Trump’s tiny tweeting fingertips.

It’s impossible to keep up, obviously…but also, I would argue, McCain feels entitled to be dismissive of questions about tweets because he barely knows what tweets are. I find it hard to believe he’d be as cavalier if Trump were communicating by other, more official means.

This phenomenon is also evident in the scolding of liberals who chastise people for reacting to “Trump’s tweets,” as if they’re any less worthy of reaction than his words and actions in other venues.

The bottom line is that I don’t think we help matters when we talk about “Trump’s tweets” instead of just saying “Trump said ‘[insert dangerous, idiotic, and/or offensive words here].'” If they come from Trump’s Twitter account, they are nothing more or less than the words of the President-elect of the United States of America. Trump did not put a nickel into a mechanical bird which then uttered something insane. Trump was not possessed by the spirit of an ancient bird spirit that forced him to say something insane.

Trump simply said something insane…on Twitter.

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On Slut Shaming Melania Trump

There is a curious response to the sharing of nude photos of Melania Trump via social media wherein a certain type of liberal commenter immediately jumps to the conclusion that she is being slut shamed. I understand and appreciate the underlying impulse, but it is wrong.

Take this meme, for example…


Personally, I have no problem whatsoever with this photo in terms of provenance or content. It was not hacked nor was it shared by an angry ex-lover; it was the product of a photo shoot for a French men’s magazine, clearly intended for public consumption. There was no expectation of privacy surrounding her participation in this photo shoot, which she was paid for. Indeed, as far as I am aware, none of the racy photos of the soon-to-be First Lady currently in circulation come from sources that could be characterized as illegitimate.

As far as content…well, again, I just have no problem with anything I’m seeing here. I see two beautiful women locked in a sensual embrace. I have no problem with people displaying their nude bodies. I have no problem with people engaging in sexual acts between consenting adults. I have no problem with homosexuality. In other words, there is nothing to be ashamed of here. If I share it, as a person who has no moral objection to its content, I am not shaming anyone involved in the photo.

So what about the sort of person who thinks a photo like this is something to be ashamed of? What of the people who buy into and perpetuate the idea of sluttiness as a construct? It is only from their perspective that sharing this photo might be called slut shaming. The goal of sharing it is to make them confront it from their sexually repressed little corner of the universe…the corner from which they so often like to judge some people but not others.

I celebrate this photo, just as I would celebrate a similar photo involving Michelle Obama if such a photo existed, which it does not. My position is 100% consistent in all real and imagined versions of reality. The same cannot be said for those on the other side of the political spectrum.

It is important to note here that the reverse situation would very much be slut shaming. A hypothetical conservative citizen who views such things as morally repugnant who shared, as the above meme imagines, a similar photo of Michelle Obama would clearly be motivated by a desire to debase her in the eyes of likeminded fellow citizens.

Both beauty and shame are in the eye of the beholder. As liberals, we are not responsible for the shame that conservatives attach to the naked human form, to homosexuality, to guilt-free participation in sexual activity of various kinds with various partners of various genders. If they are ashamed of what they see here, perhaps they should have objected to it with the same vociferousness with which they happily attack the LGBTQ community with words, actions and pieces of legislation.

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If It’s Not About Race, It’s About Greed

I have long argued that there are just two plausible explanations for low- to middle-income whites supporting the kinds of conservative economic policies they’ve been supporting for the last few decades. The first is that they’ve bought into the myth of the welfare queen and are so opposed to letting imagined hordes of lazy brown people hold a penny of their tax dollars that they’re actually willing to turn down programs that would help their own families prosper.

The second is that they fervently want and firmly expect to be wealthy themselves one day and therefore want to ensure that when that day comes the government won’t coming creeping around with it’s grubby little hands, redistributing their hard-earned dollars downward [to hordes of imagined brown people who lacked the skill or stamina to make it up the ladder].

The second explanation (sans the parenthetical) would be rational if not for the fact that the conservative economic policies they’ve been supporting are the steel-toed boot that has long been on the neck of all working people. They are the very thing that has prevented these economic angst-laden Trump voters from getting ahead, staying ahead, or even staying afloat—let alone getting rich. (Hey, but at least they also kept brown people poor too, right?)

In other words, non-wealthy white people enabled the mega-wealthy to keep an historic amount of their money without understanding, apparently, that doing so necessarily makes it harder for non-wealthy people of all colors to get more money; their desire to eventually, hopefully, someday, maybe hoard cash has made it impossible for them to get cash to hoard.

So even if we pretend for a moment that Trump’s popularity was not driven in very large part by active and latent racism alike, we are still left with a group of voters whose real or perceived economic disenfranchisement is something they vociferously consented to until they didn’t anymore, at which point they got extremely pissed at all the wrong people and turned to a deranged demagogue and admitted serial sexual assaulter who promised to double down on the same policies.

Oh, but he also promised to kick out some brown people, make life harder for some other brown people, prevent some brown people from coming in altogether, and just generally acted as a bright orange manifestation of their collective outrage over the fact that they’re not filthy rich yet and thus can’t take advantage of the policies they were duped into supporting for all these years.

You want it to be easier to keep up or get ahead in America? Stop breaking up unions, start demanding minimum wage increases, rebuild and fortify the social safety net that protects your family when the factory closes, support stronger regulations on banks, fight to make college affordable for your kids, stop letting big Pharma and the insurance industry profit from your suffering. In other words, stop voting for Republicans. Oh, but here’s the thing: you can’t just make it easier for white people to get ahead. That’s called apartheid.

There’s just very little room for empathy here. It’s either about race or it’s about maniacally aspirational greed. Or it’s about both. None of these explanations even remotely excuses voting a manifestly insane and ignorant clown into the White House.

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Donald Trump won the electoral college and thus the presidency.

Hillary Clinton, however, currently holds a lead of more than 400,000 in the popular vote.

Mitch McConnell’s rationale for blocking Merrick Garland’s nomination was that the people should have a voice in selecting Antonin Scalia’s replacement. While that was utter and unprecedented bullshit to begin, the people have indeed spoken—and Garland must be confirmed before any subsequent Trump nominees will be considered.

Even if Clinton had lost the popular vote, it would still be true that the GOP had effectively stolen a nominee from Barack Obama, but under the circumstances the theft would be all the more egregious. Nearly half a million more Americans voted for Hillary Clinton than for Donald Trump.

It is clear that whatever voice McConnell and his Senate colleagues wanted the people to have in this process weighs decisively in favor of confirming Garland, a consensus candidate who was praised by Democrats and Republicans alike prior to his nomination.

Confirm Merrick Garland now, you obstructionist fucking dicks.
Confirm Merrick Garland now, you racist motherfuckers who regarded President Barack Obama as illegitimate from the moment he was elected, twice, in both the electoral college and the popular vote.
Confirm Merrick Garland now, you noxious pack of hypocrites who are now led by a patently ignorant bigot and admitted serial sexual assaulter with ties the Kremlin.
Confirm Merrick Garland now.
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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 due to the fact that 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 bad. 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 care one bit 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.

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 start acting like it.

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