The Gonzo Wolf

As I explained yesterday: welcome to WWIII. Actually, we’ve been here for five years already; you’re just waking up. Take your time.

I’m a religiously ex-communicated (I married a brown-chick once), Army veteran, hippie who hates war and religion. Mix them? Well, then you get what we have right here.

We must stop listening to the older generation when it comes to our voting choices. They’re desperate, closer to the coffin, and have a completely different set of world views from surviving before our birth. They’re also tainted by the haunted words of their own parents, who did the same one generation earlier.

I received an email on early-voting day. My heart was set on one particular candidate, and was for six months. Instead of going with my heart, I bowed to the wishes of what was obviously overrated and outdated academia dogma.

I just found out the used car salesman, typical cracker-ass, Texas politician I voted for wants to put more toys in the hands of Israel, fueling their own pedo distractions, a dozen oopsie-deaths at a time.

We fucked up and bombed a school first thing out the gate yesterday, killing 40 little girls. Now, who are rich politicians going to rape?

I feel duped; conned. I followed the empty words of those who’ve never dealt with the many atrocities I endured at the hands of rich, religious con men and their bloodlines. I despise few things stronger. Also, no one alive and older in my family served in the military. I’m not one of those veterans who lives every day like he’s still enlisted, but my convictions are rock-solid.

Now, all I can do is hope everyone who waits for literal election day to see through his creepy, pedo-in-training smile, and vote the opposite.

Sirens, bombs; fear and loathing. Preach truths, toke jokes, and shoplift Amazon. Vote like your parents and the gods are dead.

In the end, I’m just mad at my self-betrayal. Nothing upsets me more.