Boy, you know it’s going to be a good one when the AI image generator won’t even touch it…
It’s a chilly morning in Dallas. No birds are fighting each other outside my writing window for bits of seed. Also, the guy across the way who’s been roofing his own house all by himself isn’t waking up the neighborhood late-sleepers still attempting to shake off the shenanigans of the week.
Boy, there were a lot of them.
White folks – on the outside – are no longer safe from our president’s makeshift, redneck police force. Sure, they’re spinning it as though she were some kind of dangerous, lesbian, left-wing activist, but don’t they always? Damn, she sure was a cute dangerous, lesbian, left-wing activist. I hate it when pretty girls get killed for no reason, especially by a dude she wouldn’t have fucked in the first place. Even if she was a fan of the peen.
She was a human trying to get out of the way of the fascist takeover of this country, and she was shot in the goddamn face for doing so.
Oddly enough, we’re still not mad.
Oh yeah, we’re irritated as hell on social media, making snarky keyboard-commando comments with our ten foot tall and bulletproof bullshit, but millions still sit in cozy homes, myself included, sipping our morning coffee and damning the nonsense only in our minds.
Like, when the George Floyd incident happened, black people got visibly upset for about a week or two. White people walked beside them long enough to get in all the YouTube videos. Hey, we poons must have something to show the grandchildren in our defense, right?
“Pepaw, why didn’t you do something?”
“I did, son! Didn’t you see me with the guitar and the werewolf mask walking through the streets like an idiot?”
Making fun of our leaders on Saturday Night Live and South Park isn’t getting the job done, folks. It’s funny, but now, it’s been so long, it kind of just feels like they’re rubbing it in.
If I’m still sitting here comfortably writing this piece, then I’m not mad enough. If you’re sitting at home on your pooper reading this, you’re not mad enough. Every single one of us should be ding-dong-ditching the White House right now until that orange mess of a “leader” comes to the door. We should steal his ass like in Nightmare Before Christmas. Take him to Oogie Boogie.
Seriously, we could stop this. Just about every billionaire corporation in the United States has their own special forces unit to covertly do what our military won’t. I didn’t say can’t, I said won’t. They follow orders from the top, and don’t make many decisions on their own. I know, because I was a soldier. I also know firsthand about the billionaire black ops teams, with friends who’ve watched their teammates die from mission to mission for twenty years.
We, collectively, could put him out on his ass if we wanted. We don’t “want”, though. Not badly enough. Not yet. The top is making boatloads of money off his ignorant oil crusades, while we plop down in our shanties nightly to ingest the highlight reel. Mix in a few cat videos here and there for variety, and you’ve got yourself a typical, modern-day American drone. A worker bee. A cockroach to their boot heels.
You see it on their faces while they explain away their wrongs. They’re not scared of the consequences. They don’t care, because we haven’t stopped them yet. Chances are, we won’t. We’ll bitch about the nightly news, but our sensitive hands won’t grip anything but our unmentionables. There are so many necks in Washington DC who could use a good squeeze, or snap for that matter.
We won’t, though. Nope, just gonna change the channel.
I say “we”, but I mean “you”. I’m a middle-aged disabled veteran who’s done his time. Where are all the young, scrappy youth from the mid-eighties who shouted to the heavens, “We’re not gonna take it, no, we ain’t gonna take it, we’re not gonna take it anymore?”
Oh yeah. We grew up, had kids, carried on the racist, nonsensical traditions of our hillbilly relatives, and put screens in our children’s faces to relieve us of our societal responsibilities. We all stopped parenting when the internet volunteered to do it for us. Guess who owns the internet. They do.
We got duped by the long-game.
Now, don’t get mad, don’t get angry, and don’t start pecking out your fiery retort. I don’t care enough about your opinion. If I did, I’d go to http://www.whoeverinthefuck.com and read what you think. You came here of your own free will. Ingest my spittings or bolt. Save your fist-shaking for your Twitter feed, oh laptop warrior of the new age.
You see what I’m trying to do here? I’m both metaphorically and virtually trying to poke you all with a stick. Move. Hey, move. Blink. Cough. Do something. ANYTHING.
And don’t look at me; I’m old now. I served my country, even when it didn’t deserve the service, and it broke me. It’s your turn. No excuse matters. Not even a strongly worded letter from your mama. Or Chuck Schumer.
Preach truths, toke jokes, and shoplift Amazon. Just because they haven’t knocked on your door yet doesn’t mean they’re not coming. You could fight me on this, or you could stand up, find a protest group, and show your Klan grandma how irritated you are by having to clean up her generation’s shit. None of these choices are easy, but are they ever? The ones worth making, I mean.
Post-Publishing Addition: Don’t forgive to hug your partner and children through all of this hate. They’ve done nothing wrong, unless they have a few specific last names. If so, then they’re just spoils of war, right?
The Gonzo Wolf 
Leave a comment