I just heard about this “Bowling Green Massacre” this morning.
I’m afraid I’m already past the point where, if someone in this administration accidentally told the truth, I wouldn’t believe it. I actually don’t want to be that person who can no longer believe the sky is blue because I’m so used to Trumpty Numpty and his handlers calling it every color except blue, but the political situation is turning me into that person.
First: do not do anything that will make the DC Metro system run any worse than it does already. If I cannot use the Metro, then I will have no choice but to find a new job closer to home, and if I no longer have to spend 2.5 hours per day in transit between work and home, I will have more time to get together with the other lefty pinkos around here and figure out how to fuck shit up. I live in Greenbelt; you can’t throw a rock around here without hitting a weirdo. Don’t give us more time to collude and collaborate. You have plenty of opponents already living in the District, and when we suburbanites want to get downtown for protests, we’ll find ways to get there. Might as well be on the Metro.
Second: do not fuck with our Internet access. You wanna censor the information we can access? Whatever, I’ll find it anyway, but if we cannot use high-speed wifi at home, then we cannot stream TV shows, and if we cannot watch the new season of Game of Thrones next summer, that’s ten weeks we’ll spend fucking shit up.
Third: do not fuck with my electricity. If I can’t use mass transit, that’s bad enough, but I can still entertain myself at home. If I can’t access the Internet, that’s even worse, but I’ll still find things to do. If I cannot charge my laptop, then I’ll have no choice but to go outside and fuck shit up. I live within spitting distance of USDA property, I’m good with animals, and you’d be surprised at how far I can walk. If I were y’all, I’d be legalizing weed and handing out free Netflix accounts like candy at a parade.
If I were in DJ Rump’s position, I wouldn’t be calling attention to the legality of an election that I, ultimately, won.
Especially if there were lots of people already suggesting there was some funny business involving the Russian government involved in some of the battleground states where I won.
I get that he’s sore about losing the popular vote by literally millions, but he still won the Presidency, Seven help us all.
But, sure, President Pussygrabber, go on and put even more scrutiny on the election that put you in the White House! Let’s see what other fun and colorful things we learn about the validity of your victory. Here’s some rope. The gallows are other there.
I see everyone talking about how people shouldn’t make fun of Barron Trump, and I’m going to join the chorus.
I’m about the same age as Chelsea Clinton. I remember when Bill Clinton became President, and the media had a field day in bullying Chelsea. Oh yes, it was everyone’s favorite hobby to talk about how ugly the new First Daughter was. Such a great way to treat a 12-year-old girl.
So with that in mind, wouldn’t it be cool if we could now be the country that doesn’t gang up on kids who have to live in a fishbowl? Wouldn’t it be cool if we could choose not to repeat the abuses we heaped on Chelsea Clinton? Wouldn’t it set a great example if we could make the distinction between DJ Rump and all he represents, and a 10-year-old boy who didn’t ask for any of this?
And after 4 years (hopefully JUST 4 years) of DJ Rump’s time in Washington, plus several years more after that of being DJ Rump’s son, suppose Barron grows up to be his father’s worst nightmare? Imagine if Barron becomes the kind of person who can hit back against the damage his father’s done to our country?
Because if that happens, then we’ll be glad we handled him gently when he was 10. If he grows up to be his father’s son, then he’ll be grown up, and THEN we can be vicious to him.
Well, everyone, I’ve been sick with a cold for the past week. I only went to work for one day last week, and I expect my workday tomorrow to be a trainwreck. I finally started feeling sort-of better last night, so, no marching for me. I live not even 10 miles from Washington, DC, I’ve marched and protested before, I enjoyed it, but I will not do that to myself when I’m sick. Which is a shame, because the march looked fabulous and amazing in every possible way. I’m still knitting my pussyhat. I haven’t ruled out wearing it in public every day until warm weather arrives.
I’ll miss the Obamas. I would’ve been okay with another 4-8 years of them in the White House.
I finally watched Selma today. Anyone who thinks violence never accomplishes anything: Ava DuVernay and Dr. King would like to have a word with you.
Also, I am totally supportive of punching Nazis in the face. Or the gut. Or the crotch. Whatever part presents first.
Just spotted this putz on Twitter:
Yeah, first of all, if you’re going to tag your Tweet as “just saying,” try spelling “just” correctly. Not the sort of thing that requires an advanced degree.
I am so far past DONE debating reproductive rights at this level. Abstinence is not a contraceptive strategy, it is a condition defined by absence. Being in a situation in which you don’t need contraception, is in itself NOT a contraceptive method. You’re not having sex? That’s fine! It’s not a position from which to determine health coverage policy.
Most of all, I am not the least bit interested in playing this game where some lying fuckhead says “well if you don’t want a baby then don’t have sex” and I respond as if this person actually expects us to stop having sex. I no longer accept that premise. They don’t realistically expect us to swear off sexual activity, and they would not be happy if we did so.
The difference between the alleged sexual profligacy of “this generation” and the supposed restraint of previous generations is that we no longer see a virtue in systemically punishing fertile young women for doing what everyone does when they get the chance. We are not interested in going back to the era of pregnant women hiding out in homes for unwed mothers, and their offspring growing up in orphanages. We don’t want to produce even more hungry mouths to grow up to become cheap labor and cannon fodder, and we don’t think that makes us less virtuous than our ancestors who had no better options.
Not that I think less of fellow liberals who put on safety pins to show solidarity. It certainly doesn’t hurt anything. The problem is more that literally any asshole can put a safety pin on their jacket and act like they care about marginalized people, and they may not be trustworthy. Already the neo-Nazis are talking about co-opting the safety pin for themselves. I wouldn’t expect a POC, religious-minority, immigrant, or gender-non-conforming person to trust me because I’m wearing a little pin on my shirt. I wouldn’t expect them to trust me no matter how I present myself. If people trust me, it’ll be because of my actions.
I’m not too worried for myself, to be honest. I’m slightly worried about how much I’ll have to pay out of pocket for mental health care if the ACA is repealed and I can’t stay fully employed, but mostly, I think I’ll be okay. I’m an able-bodied white cis woman with native-born citizenship; I’m not really a target for anyone. I’m female and queer, but as I live in a brilliant-blue area, I’ll probably be okay. I have money in the bank. I have much better chances of making it through a Trump presidency in one piece than many people I know.
Also, I’m well past the sign-this-petition stage. Of course holding the government accountable is an end unto itself, but by this point I’m thinking of the situation less as Italy under Berlusconi and more as something much more screwed up. I’m working on questions such as: how many people can I jam into my house? Where can they hide if the uniforms come a-knockin’? What can I use as bartering commodities, and how do I keep stocked? Whom can I trust? How do we communicate if we’re under surveillance?
If you don’t see me blogging about politics here, it’s not because I’m not concerned or I’m not doing anything. I’m very concerned, and I’m making plans. I’m in survival mode.
If you’re a white woman who voted for Obama but stayed home rather than vote for Hillary, you helped elect Donald Trump and you don’t get to blame Susan Sarandon for your inaction. That’s on you.
THAT SAID, certain news media sources and celebrities did contribute to the problem in this election. Example:
Yeah, no. People who voted for Trump are, by definition, not our allies. I’ll be open to dialogue with any Trump voters who admit their mistake within the next four years. But they are not the priority. My priority is the well-being of the people who get screwed over by the actions of the Trump administration. It’s not on us to “reach out” to people who decided we should eat toxic waste for dinner. Susan Sarandon, and everyone else who discouraged people from voting for Hillary, are not entitled to an opinion in this matter.
Rebecca Solnit at the Guardian says exactly what’s been on my mind since the election: the problem is not that Hillary Clinton wasn’t a good enough candidate. She was not a sub-par candidate who had the Democratic primaries rigged in her favor. (I can’t believe this is actually a thing I’m hearing from otherwise reasonable people.) She was an outstanding candidate and the climate surrounding the general election was unfairly stacked against her in tactics going back decades. Rebecca explains:
You can flip that and see that Trump was such a weak candidate it took decades of scheming and an extraordinary international roster of powerful players to lay the groundwork that made his election possible. Defeating Clinton in the electoral college took the 2013 gutting of the Voting Rights Act by Republican appointees to the supreme court. It took vast Republican voter suppression laws and tactics set in place over many years. It took voter intimidation at many polling places. It took the long Republican campaign to blow up the boring bureaucratic irregularity of Clinton’s use of a private email server into a scandal that the media obediently picked up and reheated.
I feel like the country was all seated in a giant dining room, hungrily waiting for our dinner to be served, and the restaurant manager came out and told us: “We can only cook one dish for everyone, so we’ll choose based on which option gets the most requests. There are two meal options, so the vote will be simple. One option is a chicken entree. The other option is a heaping bowl of toxic waste garnished with broken glass.”
The outcome is that we’re all going to spend the next four years (hopefully not eight) eating toxic waste and broken glass because too many people couldn’t be bothered to ask for chicken.