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 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.

Dialed Back 

They were right, the sun came up the next day. 

Mother Nature has the experience to run the world. Wonder if she makes only 80 cents on the male dollar too. 

Our president elect might as well be Hugh Hefner. 

As it is, it’s like Archie Bunker and Rodney Dangerfield had a son.

This character would be perfect for “Me”TV after all. 

We really turned the dial back on this one, didn’t we America?  

Too Soon

Biggest WTH week in the history of what the hells.

Families who don’t talk politics learned each other’s secrets via live news broadcasts. And it broke their hearts right before it broke the Internet.

Comedians gave eulogies of the country instead of making the nation laugh.

Social media made everyone their own authors, editors and publishers. People’s tones changed.

We scold each other and give unsolicited advice.

Some hide behind keyboards and that’s not right.

Some take to the streets and that’s not right either.

And some, I assume, are good people.

The divide grows.

The knots in our stomachs tighten.

It is not getting better with time.

There is too much content and not enough substance.

There is just too much crap.

The word pussy went main stream. Hate trumped love.

There is just too much hate.

Some people haven’t said anything and we can assume they are at peace.

Others we haven’t heard from.

We should probably check on their wellbeing.

I find myself hoping there’s an underground railroad.

I hope I don’t have to use it.

Pictures of kittens and dogs help.

However briefly.

Us: We’re afraid of the clown.

Them: Ah, c’mon, clowns aren’t scary.

Us: Yes, yes they are. We have seen Poltergeist.

It’s too soon to be ok if you aren’t.