I don't want to offend anyone who watches football. I mean, I like the concept of the Superbowl party - the festive atmosphere, the foods, the excitement of the game. I just wish it revolved around something that I found more interesting. Sports in particular is an activity that I think is better done than spectated, but even then, you could pick a better game - like gymnastics or beach volleyball, or even a cheer comp. Something that's at least visually stimulating, beyond counting points as a ball goes back and forth across the screen.
Watching family and friends follow games on TV for much of my life, I've always disliked the manner in which the viewer pins such intense highs and lows of joy and disappointment upon the performance of a group of athletes with which the only thing they have in common (in most cases) is their general area of residence. It's like a localized form of nationalism. That kind of arbitrary tribal mentality might have served us back when we were primitive hunter-gatherers, but in this global society, it's one of the driving forces behind such things as war, bigotry, and terrorism. One stranger isn't better than another stranger just because he lives closer to you, and maybe he's been to some of the same stores or restaurants, or listens to the same radio programs as you do.
Anyway, the first few years I moved away from home, it was a novelty and a relief being able to get through an entire season without even hearing about football. In some cases, Superbowl Sunday passed me by without me even recognizing that there was a game on. I don't miss it one bit. But one thing I've learned that's fun to do is to go grocery shopping on the day of the big game. All the stores are basically empty, because everybody's at home glued to their couches. It's a pretty cool atmosphere. I think I'll call it Supermarket Sunday.
09 February, 2025
07 February, 2025
Sunscreen
In 1997, Baz Luhrmann (the same Baz Luhrmann who directed the film adaptation of Romeo + Juliet, starring Leonardo DiCaprio and Claire Danes as the titular star-crossed lovers) released a spoken word song titled Everybody's Free (To Wear Sunscreen), which was in actuality an adaptation of an essay written by Mary Schmich, former columnist for the Chicago Tribune. Styled as a hypothetical commencement speech, it contains a lot of good, general life advice. Anyway, there's a line in it which I think about from time to time (among several others, as a matter of fact), that reads as follows:
"Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft."
(I've travelled to both places, but haven't lived in either). I like this line because it reflects balance. It displays the importance of cultivating a varied perspective on the world, and the practice of familiarizing oneself with (and, presumably, generating empathy for) people who come from vastly different walks of life. But at the same time, it cautions you not to become too entrenched in a particular camp, or to let over-exposure dim the broadness of your vision.
I've read both Kinsey reports cover to cover (as with any textbook, the academic prose is dry, but filled with fascinating insights for those with a little patience). It, of course, has much to say about human sexuality, but of the many things that have stuck with me, I remember a comment about how in this great American experiment, most people do not change social class throughout their lives. Some people do, indeed, move up the social ladder - which is the elusive American dream. There are plenty of rags-to-riches stories out there (although I wonder to what extent this is just a convenient fantasy designed to placate the less fortunate masses). But only a minority ever find themselves climbing down the social ladder. Which is not to say that it does not happen (and there is certainly a catharsis to be had from the not unpopular riches-to-rags reverse tale).
Regardless, I would categorize my upbringing squarely in the middle class range. My immediate family was not what I would consider to be rich. But we were definitely not poor, either. I don't know the details of my parents' lives before I was born (we've never really been a "gather 'round and tell our life stories" kind of family), but I suspect that I may have had something of a more comfortable upbringing than one or both of my parents had. Which is nice for me. Unfortunately, circumstances directly related to mental illness (i.e., my crippling anxiety), have prevented me from fully unlocking my potential in life. I do my best to maintain the standards I grew up with - and I have a certain pride in that, although others of lesser means may interpret it as snobbery (which is fair). But, since having moved out of state, I've definitely entrenched myself within the confines of a decidedly lower class environment.
There's no way I can speak authentically about this subject without the risk of tarnishing the reputation of, and potentially causing offense to, people that I honestly like and care about. Nobody's perfect - nor are most people responsible for the conditions they're born into, and the opportunities they're not given - and you can still love and respect someone in spite of their flaws. Heaven knows I have more than my fair share of my own. So I hope my words aren't taken out of context. To be fair, the reason I moved out here is the person I've chosen to spend my life with; and she is by all accounts a diamond in the rough. What's more impressive than who she is, is that she's managed to become that despite the circumstances she's had to overcome.
So, like, don't get me wrong. But, aside from that exception, I do find myself surrounded, in this town, by people who are, on average, poorer and less educated than what I'm used to. And let me tell you, it's eye-opening. For the first few years, it was an adjustment. Something I had to get used to. After getting to know some of these people, and participating in their lives, it's definitely given me an appreciation for the hurdles they're faced with. But the more you witness what seems to you like bad decisions, and relative lack of cognitive capacity and critical thinking skills - no matter how it's not these people's fault that they're playing with an incomplete deck, against professional scam artists - the more it whittles away at your faith in humanity, as if to convince you that sapience is a myth, and we're all just animals running on instinct.
You know, there's a certain misanthropic frustration that settles in, when you hear about the kind of unethical behaviors rich, upper class tycoons engage in (most of the time without any kind of repercussions). But there's a risk of swinging the pendulum too far in the opposite direction, and concluding that the lower class "salt of the earth" type of people possess some kind of fundamental virtue. It's like the phallacy of the "noble savage", but applied to poverty. And it should be all the more apparent in an age where the ignorance of the uneducated is being exploited by those same tycoons to proliferate their immoral debauchery.
And when you're constantly hammered over the head with it, again and again, day after day, it can get to a point where you start to lose that empathy. And a different kind of misanthropic frustration begins to settle in. One that is, perhaps, even more depressing. Because it's one thing to recognize the corrupting influence of power. But it's another thing entirely to recognize the rotten core that exists at the very heart of humanity itself, which doesn't even require power to find expression. I guess if I were to amend Mary Schmich's original essay, I would add the following line:
"Get an internship at a Fortune 500 company, but quit before it makes you cynical. Live out in the country, but leave before you lose all faith in humanity."
And don't forget to wear that sunscreen.
"Live in New York City once, but leave before it makes you hard. Live in Northern California once, but leave before it makes you soft."
(I've travelled to both places, but haven't lived in either). I like this line because it reflects balance. It displays the importance of cultivating a varied perspective on the world, and the practice of familiarizing oneself with (and, presumably, generating empathy for) people who come from vastly different walks of life. But at the same time, it cautions you not to become too entrenched in a particular camp, or to let over-exposure dim the broadness of your vision.
I've read both Kinsey reports cover to cover (as with any textbook, the academic prose is dry, but filled with fascinating insights for those with a little patience). It, of course, has much to say about human sexuality, but of the many things that have stuck with me, I remember a comment about how in this great American experiment, most people do not change social class throughout their lives. Some people do, indeed, move up the social ladder - which is the elusive American dream. There are plenty of rags-to-riches stories out there (although I wonder to what extent this is just a convenient fantasy designed to placate the less fortunate masses). But only a minority ever find themselves climbing down the social ladder. Which is not to say that it does not happen (and there is certainly a catharsis to be had from the not unpopular riches-to-rags reverse tale).
Regardless, I would categorize my upbringing squarely in the middle class range. My immediate family was not what I would consider to be rich. But we were definitely not poor, either. I don't know the details of my parents' lives before I was born (we've never really been a "gather 'round and tell our life stories" kind of family), but I suspect that I may have had something of a more comfortable upbringing than one or both of my parents had. Which is nice for me. Unfortunately, circumstances directly related to mental illness (i.e., my crippling anxiety), have prevented me from fully unlocking my potential in life. I do my best to maintain the standards I grew up with - and I have a certain pride in that, although others of lesser means may interpret it as snobbery (which is fair). But, since having moved out of state, I've definitely entrenched myself within the confines of a decidedly lower class environment.
There's no way I can speak authentically about this subject without the risk of tarnishing the reputation of, and potentially causing offense to, people that I honestly like and care about. Nobody's perfect - nor are most people responsible for the conditions they're born into, and the opportunities they're not given - and you can still love and respect someone in spite of their flaws. Heaven knows I have more than my fair share of my own. So I hope my words aren't taken out of context. To be fair, the reason I moved out here is the person I've chosen to spend my life with; and she is by all accounts a diamond in the rough. What's more impressive than who she is, is that she's managed to become that despite the circumstances she's had to overcome.
So, like, don't get me wrong. But, aside from that exception, I do find myself surrounded, in this town, by people who are, on average, poorer and less educated than what I'm used to. And let me tell you, it's eye-opening. For the first few years, it was an adjustment. Something I had to get used to. After getting to know some of these people, and participating in their lives, it's definitely given me an appreciation for the hurdles they're faced with. But the more you witness what seems to you like bad decisions, and relative lack of cognitive capacity and critical thinking skills - no matter how it's not these people's fault that they're playing with an incomplete deck, against professional scam artists - the more it whittles away at your faith in humanity, as if to convince you that sapience is a myth, and we're all just animals running on instinct.
You know, there's a certain misanthropic frustration that settles in, when you hear about the kind of unethical behaviors rich, upper class tycoons engage in (most of the time without any kind of repercussions). But there's a risk of swinging the pendulum too far in the opposite direction, and concluding that the lower class "salt of the earth" type of people possess some kind of fundamental virtue. It's like the phallacy of the "noble savage", but applied to poverty. And it should be all the more apparent in an age where the ignorance of the uneducated is being exploited by those same tycoons to proliferate their immoral debauchery.
And when you're constantly hammered over the head with it, again and again, day after day, it can get to a point where you start to lose that empathy. And a different kind of misanthropic frustration begins to settle in. One that is, perhaps, even more depressing. Because it's one thing to recognize the corrupting influence of power. But it's another thing entirely to recognize the rotten core that exists at the very heart of humanity itself, which doesn't even require power to find expression. I guess if I were to amend Mary Schmich's original essay, I would add the following line:
"Get an internship at a Fortune 500 company, but quit before it makes you cynical. Live out in the country, but leave before you lose all faith in humanity."
And don't forget to wear that sunscreen.
01 January, 2025
Behind The Code
I didn't always feel this way, and it's taken a lot of years of living to get to the point where I can honestly say, I would have liked to have had children. Which is not to say that I regret how things turned out. I struggle to manage my own life; I don't think it would be a good idea to put me in charge of somebody else's. Although, you never know, having children might have been the catalyst to motivate me to make the changes I could never make within myself. I know that's not a good gamble to place the wellbeing of another life upon. But let's be fair, people doom their offspring to much worse over much less every. single. day.
It's kind of how evolution and the propagation of the species works. It clashes with the sophisticated illusion of civilization we've constructed for ourselves, but spray and pray is the name of the game. You could be forgiven for doubting it if you've never left the middle class bubble that I grew up in. But look around down here at the bottom of the pyramid, and you simply can't avoid stepping in it. It makes you realize that in spite of all that so-called "sapience", we're still just apes in human clothing.
Anyway, from a certain perspective, caring for another generation is the most selfless act you can commit. But in my experience, making the conscious decision (which, to be fair, was easy - given the lack of opportunities handed to me) to sacrifice my chance at passing on my genes, and trying my hand at that delicious form of human clay molding known as parenthood, in order to spare a single other human being even the possibility of experiencing the absolute torture of what it is to go through life with my outlook - feeling that every minute of every day, there is an invisible train bearing down on me, and that my world will crumble to pieces in an instant with no warning, and that decades of living without that happening isn't enough to convince myself that I can ever breathe easy - is the most conscientious and selfless act (not to mention thankless) I could ever conceive of.
Because no amount of being smart, being attractive, being witty or insightful - none of it is worth it. I shouldn't have ever come into existence in the first place. But it's not like anybody could have known that before it happened. And since I'm here now, I'm still gonna make the most of it. I'm just saying, it's easier not to start the game than it is to shut it off before you're finished. But, man, life is a cosmic joke. And if there's a God up there (spoiler: there isn't), he's as sick and twisted as his followers say he's kind and all-loving. Sometimes I wish I could just close my eyes and shut it all out. I've seen too much of what goes on behind the curtains. It's no gift being able to read the code. I don't even get to manipulate it!
It's kind of how evolution and the propagation of the species works. It clashes with the sophisticated illusion of civilization we've constructed for ourselves, but spray and pray is the name of the game. You could be forgiven for doubting it if you've never left the middle class bubble that I grew up in. But look around down here at the bottom of the pyramid, and you simply can't avoid stepping in it. It makes you realize that in spite of all that so-called "sapience", we're still just apes in human clothing.
Anyway, from a certain perspective, caring for another generation is the most selfless act you can commit. But in my experience, making the conscious decision (which, to be fair, was easy - given the lack of opportunities handed to me) to sacrifice my chance at passing on my genes, and trying my hand at that delicious form of human clay molding known as parenthood, in order to spare a single other human being even the possibility of experiencing the absolute torture of what it is to go through life with my outlook - feeling that every minute of every day, there is an invisible train bearing down on me, and that my world will crumble to pieces in an instant with no warning, and that decades of living without that happening isn't enough to convince myself that I can ever breathe easy - is the most conscientious and selfless act (not to mention thankless) I could ever conceive of.
Because no amount of being smart, being attractive, being witty or insightful - none of it is worth it. I shouldn't have ever come into existence in the first place. But it's not like anybody could have known that before it happened. And since I'm here now, I'm still gonna make the most of it. I'm just saying, it's easier not to start the game than it is to shut it off before you're finished. But, man, life is a cosmic joke. And if there's a God up there (spoiler: there isn't), he's as sick and twisted as his followers say he's kind and all-loving. Sometimes I wish I could just close my eyes and shut it all out. I've seen too much of what goes on behind the curtains. It's no gift being able to read the code. I don't even get to manipulate it!
13 December, 2024
The Great Nothing
It's a sobering realization, after putting years of work into a lifelong project, when you think about how many people will never get to see the final product, because they ran out their clocks while you were still working on it. But it's even more sobering when you think about how many of those people would never have seen it anyway, even if they'd still been alive when it was finished - because they simply aren't interested.
And that's not a dig against them. I just think it's a tragedy that taste is subjective. Your mileage may vary, and I may just be reflecting my own faults, but it is my experience that every man is an island. Ironic though it is, it is even more readily apparent in this hyper-connected techno-global community. We are all just isolated digital nodes pretending to be a network. (In honor of the show that first taught me this, we each have an impenetrable AT Field).
So many times I've shouted into the abyss, only to get in response nothing more than a few faint snarls, and the echo of my own voice. My innermost desire is to leave behind some proof that I existed. My lifelong struggle is coming to terms with the fact that I am nothing. The curse that was placed on my soul is the fate of being middling. The title of my autobiography is "Almost Gifted". I'm too good to fit in with the riff-raff. But not good enough to be counted among the greats. And it tortures me endlessly.
08 December, 2024
Tomb Raider Outfits
I'm nearing completion of Tomb Raider Remastered, an awesome game released early this year on Steam which compiles the first three original Tomb Raider games with lovingly remastered graphics (rest assured, the gameplay is untouched). And I wanted to highlight the various outfits Lara dons in these games. Playing these games in the late '90s was not only one of my early experiences directing a female protagonist in a video game (something that would later clue me in to my nontraditional gender identity), but it triggered an early awakening of my interest in fashion.
Especially Tomb Raider 2, which - liberating itself from the hardware limitations of the first game (and Lara's infamous "pyramid boobs") - had the heroine switching up her wardrobe during the course of her adventure. The box came with a cardboard cut-out silhouette of Lara Croft, which I would trace the outline of so I could draw in different types of clothing. This would later manifest in my yearning for a mannequin to dress up, and ultimately my interest (after I convinced myself that I could pull it off sufficiently well) in dressing myself up in various feminine fashions.
In any case, today I want to review the different canonical outfits Lara dons in the first three Tomb Raider games, and pick out my favorites. I've separated them into categories.
Classic Outfits
From the very first Tomb Raider game, Lara Croft made a splash in her iconic outfit - with brown shorts, a turquoise shirt, and hiking boots. Minor adjustments were made for the sequel (not counting the improved graphics - not shown here). But in Tomb Raider 3, a version with cropped top and green shorts was featured during her tropical tour of the South Pacific Islands. And then there's a bonus version with Lara torn and bloodied. Although I usually say "less is more", there's just something about that classic outfit - and I prefer the scooped neck of the Tomb Raider 2 upgrade.
Workout Gear
Before each adventure, the player has the option to visit Croft Manor and train with Lara in order to learn her moves. For this segment she dons her workout gear - introducing, in the first game, her very first alternate outfit. Although Lara is restricted to the inside of the mansion in the first game (once again due to hardware limitations and/or production deadlines), subsequent games allow her to explore the outdoor obstacle course and garden environs. I've also included Lara's desert camo in this category, from her stint in Nevada during Tomb Raider 3, since it's just a color swap of her training outfit from that game. My favorite version is actually the first one. I like the sporty top, and the lack of shoes makes it feel more intimate.
Baby, It's Cold Outside
From the Himalayas to the South Pole, Lara has never been afraid of a little snow. In Tomb Raider 2 she donned her iconic bomber jacket to raid a Tibetan monastery, and in Tomb Raider 3 her adventures culminated in a trip to Antarctica. I've gotta say, I'm not feeling the orange parka and white camo. But that bomber jacket is stylin' - and I love that Lara gets to keep her trademark shorts.
You Might Get Wet
In Tomb Raider 2, Lara squeezed into a wetsuit (who could forget her mid-conversation wardrobe change just off-camera during the cinematic?) to explore a sunken shipwreck, and fended off a home invasion wearing nothing but a bathrobe. I do like the wetsuit - it's one of only a few outfits that don't include shoes (not a very helpful accessory when you're doing a lot of swimming) - but that velvety blue bathrobe is goddess-tier. Nothing can compete with it. I just wish Lara had sported a bikini at some point in-game.
Wildcats
When Lara made a tour of London in Tomb Raider 3, she slipped into a sleek black catsuit to play the spy. But her Vegas vacation in the secret bonus level to the expansion for Tomb Raider 2 (titled The Golden mask) was a nightmare - right down to her garish leopard print evening wear, which I'd prefer to forget. A dress would have been nice - but understandably impractical for all the running, jumping, and climbing Lara does. But that catsuit? That's the stuff of fantasies.
Especially Tomb Raider 2, which - liberating itself from the hardware limitations of the first game (and Lara's infamous "pyramid boobs") - had the heroine switching up her wardrobe during the course of her adventure. The box came with a cardboard cut-out silhouette of Lara Croft, which I would trace the outline of so I could draw in different types of clothing. This would later manifest in my yearning for a mannequin to dress up, and ultimately my interest (after I convinced myself that I could pull it off sufficiently well) in dressing myself up in various feminine fashions.
In any case, today I want to review the different canonical outfits Lara dons in the first three Tomb Raider games, and pick out my favorites. I've separated them into categories.
Classic Outfits
From the very first Tomb Raider game, Lara Croft made a splash in her iconic outfit - with brown shorts, a turquoise shirt, and hiking boots. Minor adjustments were made for the sequel (not counting the improved graphics - not shown here). But in Tomb Raider 3, a version with cropped top and green shorts was featured during her tropical tour of the South Pacific Islands. And then there's a bonus version with Lara torn and bloodied. Although I usually say "less is more", there's just something about that classic outfit - and I prefer the scooped neck of the Tomb Raider 2 upgrade.
Workout Gear
Before each adventure, the player has the option to visit Croft Manor and train with Lara in order to learn her moves. For this segment she dons her workout gear - introducing, in the first game, her very first alternate outfit. Although Lara is restricted to the inside of the mansion in the first game (once again due to hardware limitations and/or production deadlines), subsequent games allow her to explore the outdoor obstacle course and garden environs. I've also included Lara's desert camo in this category, from her stint in Nevada during Tomb Raider 3, since it's just a color swap of her training outfit from that game. My favorite version is actually the first one. I like the sporty top, and the lack of shoes makes it feel more intimate.
Baby, It's Cold Outside
From the Himalayas to the South Pole, Lara has never been afraid of a little snow. In Tomb Raider 2 she donned her iconic bomber jacket to raid a Tibetan monastery, and in Tomb Raider 3 her adventures culminated in a trip to Antarctica. I've gotta say, I'm not feeling the orange parka and white camo. But that bomber jacket is stylin' - and I love that Lara gets to keep her trademark shorts.
You Might Get Wet
In Tomb Raider 2, Lara squeezed into a wetsuit (who could forget her mid-conversation wardrobe change just off-camera during the cinematic?) to explore a sunken shipwreck, and fended off a home invasion wearing nothing but a bathrobe. I do like the wetsuit - it's one of only a few outfits that don't include shoes (not a very helpful accessory when you're doing a lot of swimming) - but that velvety blue bathrobe is goddess-tier. Nothing can compete with it. I just wish Lara had sported a bikini at some point in-game.
Wildcats
When Lara made a tour of London in Tomb Raider 3, she slipped into a sleek black catsuit to play the spy. But her Vegas vacation in the secret bonus level to the expansion for Tomb Raider 2 (titled The Golden mask) was a nightmare - right down to her garish leopard print evening wear, which I'd prefer to forget. A dress would have been nice - but understandably impractical for all the running, jumping, and climbing Lara does. But that catsuit? That's the stuff of fantasies.
07 November, 2024
An Open Letter
All politicians are corrupt. (Except maybe Bernie Sanders). As someone who used to be a conscientious non-voter, and who doesn't feel that ANY part of the mainstream reflects my personal values, I'm the last person to come out of the woodwork and tell you, THIS politician is different. But he is.
I mean, just on a superficial level, it's a bad look for the country. If you can't see that, then you're clearly biased. But it doesn't stop there. He poses a threat to national security, and the very system our country is based on. But that's not even the part that motivates me to speak out. I have my issues with the Democratic platform, but I detest Republican values even more. THAT'S not even the reason I'm in distress.
No matter what your beliefs are, or what you THINK Trump stands for, what scares me is the little people that feel empowered by having this doofus in the White House. You might not see them, living in your upscale suburban neighborhood or gated community. But I'm out here in the country, and I'm surrounded by them.
People with hatred in their hearts. People who aren't smart enough, or empathetic enough to curb their impulses. People who carry guns and are just looking for an excuse to use them. People who can't understand anyone that doesn't look like them, and who hate and fear anything they don't understand.
You're not one of those people. I know that. But in casting your lot with Trump, you're empowering those people. You're helping to give THEM a platform. And that's fucking scary.
Maybe you're not the target they're gunning for. You're not a minority. You're white. You're straight. You're male. You've got it made. But I know for a FACT that you have people you love who do fall into those categories that these people are out to destroy.
And it breaks my heart that you're helping them to do that. I hate to think that you're dumb enough or ignorant enough or brainwashed enough not to realize it, but the alternative - that you actually agree that people like me shouldn't exist - is even harder to stomach.
This country is SUPPOSED to be founded on liberty - the freedom to make our own choices in life, and pursue happiness in our own individual ways, while sharing the same rights and protections as everyone else. That's what America stands for. And that is NOT what Trump symbolizes.
Congratulations. You got lucky. Or you worked hard. You've made it. Does that give you the right to step on the necks of everybody else less fortunate than you? What a role model you are.
I mean, just on a superficial level, it's a bad look for the country. If you can't see that, then you're clearly biased. But it doesn't stop there. He poses a threat to national security, and the very system our country is based on. But that's not even the part that motivates me to speak out. I have my issues with the Democratic platform, but I detest Republican values even more. THAT'S not even the reason I'm in distress.
No matter what your beliefs are, or what you THINK Trump stands for, what scares me is the little people that feel empowered by having this doofus in the White House. You might not see them, living in your upscale suburban neighborhood or gated community. But I'm out here in the country, and I'm surrounded by them.
People with hatred in their hearts. People who aren't smart enough, or empathetic enough to curb their impulses. People who carry guns and are just looking for an excuse to use them. People who can't understand anyone that doesn't look like them, and who hate and fear anything they don't understand.
You're not one of those people. I know that. But in casting your lot with Trump, you're empowering those people. You're helping to give THEM a platform. And that's fucking scary.
Maybe you're not the target they're gunning for. You're not a minority. You're white. You're straight. You're male. You've got it made. But I know for a FACT that you have people you love who do fall into those categories that these people are out to destroy.
And it breaks my heart that you're helping them to do that. I hate to think that you're dumb enough or ignorant enough or brainwashed enough not to realize it, but the alternative - that you actually agree that people like me shouldn't exist - is even harder to stomach.
This country is SUPPOSED to be founded on liberty - the freedom to make our own choices in life, and pursue happiness in our own individual ways, while sharing the same rights and protections as everyone else. That's what America stands for. And that is NOT what Trump symbolizes.
Congratulations. You got lucky. Or you worked hard. You've made it. Does that give you the right to step on the necks of everybody else less fortunate than you? What a role model you are.
Omega Level Threat
I wish that everyone who voted for Trump out of ignorance and, hard as it is for me to say this, "good faith" had a candidate that stood for the particular issues they care about, instead of this seditious buffoon. I'm sure I'd still disagree and vote against this candidate, but at least then we'd restore some dignity to our politics.
Even if I had allowed myself to be hoodwinked into thinking Trump cared about the things I care about (like free speech and dismantling the system - but if you think a Republican regime with Trump at its helm is going to serve your interests, then you're dangerously naive), I still wouldn't support him for office of the president. He's a global embarrassment to our country. The only thing more embarrassing is that a majority of "we, the people" are dumb enough to throw their MAGA hats into his ring.
You don't have to put on Jackboots to be a Nazi. Handing power to the party is enough. Hell, stepping aside and letting them march in the streets is tantamount to support. I spent 18 years of my adult life believing that engaging in partisan politics was pointless. So believe me, I get it. But for those 14 million of you (only half of which would have been enough to defeat Trump) who thought, "Harris isn't great, might as well be Trump" - you're not paying attention. And the cost of freedom is eternal vigilance.
We've always had a "lesser evil" system of governance. And it's made little difference which brand of evil rises to the top. But if you can't recognize an omega level threat when it comes along, then you deserve what you're all about to get. I just wish you hadn't thrown the rest of us under the bus.
Even if I had allowed myself to be hoodwinked into thinking Trump cared about the things I care about (like free speech and dismantling the system - but if you think a Republican regime with Trump at its helm is going to serve your interests, then you're dangerously naive), I still wouldn't support him for office of the president. He's a global embarrassment to our country. The only thing more embarrassing is that a majority of "we, the people" are dumb enough to throw their MAGA hats into his ring.
You don't have to put on Jackboots to be a Nazi. Handing power to the party is enough. Hell, stepping aside and letting them march in the streets is tantamount to support. I spent 18 years of my adult life believing that engaging in partisan politics was pointless. So believe me, I get it. But for those 14 million of you (only half of which would have been enough to defeat Trump) who thought, "Harris isn't great, might as well be Trump" - you're not paying attention. And the cost of freedom is eternal vigilance.
We've always had a "lesser evil" system of governance. And it's made little difference which brand of evil rises to the top. But if you can't recognize an omega level threat when it comes along, then you deserve what you're all about to get. I just wish you hadn't thrown the rest of us under the bus.
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