I’m not ok

And I will not get over it. 

I was raised on Love Thy Neighbor morals. 

Even if we didn’t always, at least we mostly did. And there was church on Sundays if we failed. 

There have always been the haves and the have nots. It’s just that when they look and act and farm like us, we understand them better.

We blame them less.

Not judging isn’t politically correct, it’s polite. It’s humane. 

But now it’s all out in the open. 

It’s like a Dr. Pimplepopper video. It’s oxygenated now. It oozes. 

The hatred, the judging, the mean words. Minds remain narrow while mouths have gotten bigger. 

Billionaires are going to be running the country. And the country is scratching and clawing to be the first in line for the prez elect’s scraps. Which he will throw to the dogs, not the people. 

Everyone is saying Buckle Up it’s going to be a long 4 years. As if we are going anywhere. 

We are, collectively, going nowhere. 

Nowhere good. 

 I just hope we all survive. 

NPD

Editor’s Note: This is from a Facebook post I wrote the Saturday before the 2016 Election. 

I hate to be the person who talks about why the other guy shouldn’t get our valuable one-vote each. But I’m going to with a little story about narcissistic personality disorder.
People with NPD have seriously damaged those I love. They’ve left them broken hearted, cheated on and confused. They’ve told lies about them and placed blame on them. It’s been difficult to see a good, trusting person pick up the pieces of having been gaslighted, taken advantage of, and left when they no longer served a purpose.
My own narcissist got me with her “I’ll giveth and I’ll taketh away” approach to employing those of us with just enough talent – and just enough insecurity – to believe our best interests were at heart when they weren’t. Especially if we no longer served a purpose for their agenda. I saw this over and over again but never believed it until it happened to me.
If you see yourself as the little guy and are attracted to the GOP candidate’s promises to make things better for you, I pray that I’m wrong about him if he wins. And I pray that you change your lens and see your own value so you don’t fall for the empty promises. Of anyone. Ever again.
Because of the NPD’s award winning personality and boisterousness, we can all get sucked in. We can admire their willingness to say things with shock value and “to hell with being PC.” But in the end, a person with NPD doesn’t care about you or me or the country. They care about themselves. Period.
This whole election has been like one big trigger for me. My run-in with a narcissist didn’t end long enough ago for the GOP Candidate to not appear like a ghost of recent past.
I do realize that I’m not going to change anyone’s vote and honestly, if you say you’re undecided I don’t believe you. I think you know who you’re going to vote for even if you haven’t reconciled it with the rest of your values.
And, that’s OK. It’s your vote to cast the same way this was my story to tell.

Orange you glad I didn’t say “banana”? 

Knock knock. Who’s there? 

Another white supremacist. 

Knock knock. Who’s there? 

A major case of xenophobia. 

Knock knock. Who’s there? 

Religious and reproductive judge and jury. 

Knock knock. Who’s there? 

Men who make Paul Ryan look moderate. 

Knock knock. Who’s there? 

It’s a total white out. A blizzard of sameness. 

Knock knock. Who’s there? 

An army of hate. 

Knock knock. Who’s there? 

Narcissistic personality disorder. 

Knock knock. 

Knock knock. Do I really have to ask? 

140 characters of nonsense. 

Knock knock. Who’s there? 

The actual alt-right. (Translation: alt-reich) 

Knock knock. Ah, fuck it. 

Hashtag 

Hashtag black lives matter.

Hashtag all lives matter.

Hashtag women’s reproductive health doesn’t matter.

When he phones a friend, he’s calling the depths of actual hell to build his cabinet.

Even Ben Carson told him, bye Felicia.

Did Bannon really call feminists dykes? That. Is. So. Cliche.

Time to write some new content, weirdo.

Hashtag build a wall, hashtag ban them all.

Hashtag suddenly he won’t mess with the gays.

Hashtag do I trust him? Hashtag no way Jose, he’s a bad hombre

No reason to love they neighbor.

Every man for himself. Time to build a bunker. Hashtag doomsday preppers was a brilliant show.

Hashtag actually no lives matter.

Hashtag that’s not the Twitter botton, that says “nukes”on it Donald

Hashtag none of it matters.

Eat up, America

A man-child pulls his throne up to the table. The big boys and girls table.

He pours himself a glass of fantasy land and puts his elbows on the table.

He wipes his mouth with the tie of the young man seated next to him.

And he grabs some hot buns.

Nobody has more respect for buns than I do, he exclaims.

He carves the turkey and places the dark meat out of the way.

All that’s left is to say grace. As if that’s going to help.

The man-child starts dishing out portions. Large if you’re within elbow-rubbing distance, smaller if you are not. None if you are black, Jewish, Muslim, or a woman of child-bearing age.

Mexicans did not get the invitation at all.

His conversation is a swirl of the nonsensical. Nobody dares contradict him, except him.

You know that’s not what he said just yesterday. He has the memory of your drunken uncle.

He slobbers all over everyone, including the gracious hosts and hostesses who gave this Alfred E. Neuman-esque character a place at the table.

Hell, they gave him the table.

He says, I wasn’t present at the first Thanksgiving. I just share the white man’s values of those days.

Pass the rape and pillaging.