Reblogging Marc-Anthony Macon, open letter to conservatives

 

AN OPEN LETTER TO THE 3 OR SO CONSERVATIVES THAT STILL FOLLOW ME 

[TLDR: I am asking if you are lonely and if we can help you a bit with that.]...

Health stuff

 

So, my health is out of control.

I am 370 pounds and have really not gotten out of my bed for months, except to go to appointments or for a couple of hospital stays. I use a bedside commode and just kind of sit here all day on the laptop. It's not sustainable and things are about to change...

THEY WANT YER GUNS, BILLY BOB!

Bill Clinton will take your guns.

Obama will take your guns.

Bernie is coming for the guns.

Hillary is going to take your guns.

Buttigieg, Klobuchar, Gabbard, Biden, Kerry, Gore, they will wrench the gun from your cold dead gripping fingers!

So who wants the guns?

Looks like the entire Trump administration does...

MAGA, motherfuckers! Seig Heil!

 

Now that it could be them, they're speaking out

 

I'm going to say it, and a lot louder for those in the back.

When it was "just" black men and women being shot in the street like rabid dogs by law enforcement, the country just mostly shrugged and went on to the next ex-judicial killing of innocent people. Because obviously, they were nefarious criminals who were outside walking or driving while black with ulterior motives. Can't be having with that.

Then it was a white woman in Minneapolis, and people started getting mad. But it was only a woman, and a Lesbian at that, so only a few people got angry. A wife has been widowed, a child has been orphaned, and Donald Trump says that this woman who was sitting in a vehicle and speaking peacefully was, and I fucking quote, "A professional agitator".

Now it's a white man.

And now shit is getting real to the MAGA 2A ammosexual fuckheads.

Now they're not liking it. Now the NRA is speaking out. 

Because next time, it could be them or the guy they play poker with on Tuesday nights.

NOW the Republicraps are starting to blink an eye.

Not Trump and Miller, of course. Those pieces of shit just want most of us dead.

But they're starting to see what's actually going down.

Maybe THIS will be the spark that fans into a major flame.

Something's got to fucking give.

Forcing some facts down MAGA throats

 

Look, here's the thing.

There are gay men. They love other men, and they sometimes marry.
There are gay women. They love other women, and THEY sometimes marry.
And there are straight people of both "main" genders, they love the opposite sex, and yep, sometimes they marry.

Some of the aforementioned gay folks are celebrities of one sort or another. Music, acting, writing, etc.

Narrowing down on the writers, many writers today not only publish books, but maintain blogs, Facebook and Xitter accounts, Substacks, and more. When a person begins following that writers page, they have volunteered to be exposed to what that writer puts on that social media account.

So signing up to read posts from "Don'tCrossAGayMan" and then complaining because Misha regularly mentions his husband, and saying he is shoving his lifestyle down the complainant's throat. Because as soon as somebody signs up, Misha hacks their network so that they can ONLY see his homosexual, rainbow tinted, Twinkie posts, most of which are not gay specific, they're about being KIND.

FFS. Nobody dragged these people in. Nobody is sitting on them to keep them in the group. They did this shit THEMSELVES. And the writer isn't describing the blow job he gave his husband the night before. He simply mentioned that he HAS a husband.

I wish I was gay. I would totally shove it down people's throats. I would be the world's butchest Lesbian, wearing the teeshirt with the double female sign and sneering in disgust at every straight person or male person that I see, provided they are also a closed minded asshat MAGA jerk.

That would be loads of fun!

Racism in EVERYONE (especially ourselves), must be stamped out.

I thought I had erased all vestiges of racial prejudice from my brain, but I was wrong. Boy howdy, was I wrong. Turns out that I still have some FILTHY spots in myself that need major scrubbing and purifying.

I was watching Midnight Oil's video for Beds Are Burning. Much of it takes place in a town out in the desert, where the people are out having a good time dancing to the band's music in the street.

And there are these two girls, maybe 16 or 17 years old, absolutely stunningly beautiful in an 80s kind of way, and I said to myself: "I did not know that Indigenous People in Oz could be so attractive."

And I immediately facepalmed in disgust. That came out of fucking NOWHERE and broadsided me.

We may think we are the wokest of the woke, but depending on the culture when we were coming up, we may be carrying some really REALLY deep prejudices that need to be eradicated.

Clickety Clackety!

I have never been good at saving up my money for purchases. But there was one time, when I was about six years old...

Back in the late 60s or early 70s, I collected returnable bottles and turned them in for the 5 cent bounty, and saved my 25 cent a week allowance. I busted tail to buy a pair of clackers, and after several weeks of hard work and no penny candy from Max's Smoke Shop, I had the $1.49 I needed to buy my clackers. I knew which pair I wanted, too, gorgeous royal blue with gold glitter inside the balls.

So I trotted off to Woolworth's to buy my clackers.

And the shelf was filled with Nerf balls.

I asked the clerk where the clackers were, and was told that they had all been recalled, because they would shatter and glass would fly and hurt people.

Man, was I PISSED.

Ever since then, I have wanted a pair of clackers.

Looks like they're back, but with an acrylic ball instead of glass. So I ordered some.

Because the inner child MUST be placated.

Reblogging Michael Jochum: Glory to Ukraine

I struggle to think of any leader in modern history who has carried the agony of an entire nation on his shoulders with such quiet dignity, such relentless resolve, and such unwavering commitment to pulling his people out of darkness and toward a livable future. Volodymyr Zelenskyy has endured not only the brutality of an indicted war criminal bent on his country’s destruction, but the betrayal of the president of the most powerful nation on earth, a man willing to pocket his thirty pieces of silver from the Kremlin while abandoning an ally whose soldiers once stood shoulder to shoulder with American troops on the battlefields of Iraq.

Zelenskyy is not merely a wartime president. He is a leader who will, without question, take his place in the pantheon of history’s greats. You can see it etched into his face, the sleepless nights, the grief, the weight of tens of thousands of innocent Ukrainian lives lost, a pain he carries not as a political burden, but as a moral one. And yet, even as the White House turns its back and aids his country’s suffering through complicity, he stands firm, unbroken, and fiercely devoted to his people.

Glory to Ukraine.

Boy am I triggered

So the death of Dilbert creator and infamous racist pig, Scott Adams, from prostate cancer this week has poked some of my buttons.

My Dad was a good man, but he was a little too damn much of a hippie. When he was diagnosed with bladder cancer, his urologist told him that removal of his bladder would get it all, and he would live a long life. Then the urologist explained that the prostate goes out with the bladder, and that's the end of the sex life.

My father was 38 when he was diagnosed. He had an active social and dating and sex life. Losing the ability to have intercourse would have really been devastating to him. So he told the doctor, let's do mild chemo, and I'm gonna do laetrile and the nothing but wheat grass juice diet, and visualizing the cancer going away and all will be well.

But all was not well. After a couple of years, his cancer was down to a small spot of atypia, due, no doubt, to the mild chemotherapy. So very "intelligently" he stopped the chemo and continued with the quackery.

Seven months later, the cancer had run wild in his body. All of his organs, and his bones.

Scott Adams was told he had early state prostate cancer. He opted for, of all fucking things, ivermectin. He gambled and lost, just like my dad.

And I am reminded once again of how dangerous "alternative/holistic medicine" is.

Folks, laetrile is poison and does nothing. The baked potato diet will bore you to tears. The wheat grass juice only diet will turn you into a skeleton and weaken you so you die faster. Vizualization is soothing and helps the psyche, but it does not cure cancer. And if ANYBODY suggests bloodroot to you, kick them out of the house with prejudice.

And horse wormer will not cure cancer, either.

Got cancer? Go to a DOCTOR!