My righteous anger is non-negotiable

I can bank the coals of my anger and maintain it for years, if necessary.

Editor’s Note: While we’re still getting organized here at The Shinbone Star, you’ll occasionally see content that first appeared on my other blog, Roamin’ Gnomials. Today’s offering was written shortly after Donald Trump won the presidency, but before he took office. In the days since he swore to preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States, his actions have done nothing to change my feelings or allay my fears.

I’m losing you, I can feel it. Significant numbers of my readers are wondering, “When is he going to stop with this political crap? His blog was so much more fun when it was all about graveyards and gnomes.”

Well, sorry folks, you can stay the course with me or not, I don’t care, because this blog is my outlet, my refuge from the racist-fueled insanity that has taken my country. I’m angry, still angry, and a big part of my anger is directed at people who won’t seethe along with me, not even for one day or two, three, four or six. …

Could be it’s the persistence of my anger that sets me apart? While some might claim it’s unhealthy, my anger is something I believe is proper: Where racism and misogyny are concerned, you should be angry, and I can bank the coals and maintain mine for years to come.

And just when I thought my rage couldn’t get any hotter, this right here on Facebook heated my coals like the bellows of a blacksmith’s forge:


“If you are someone who woke up this morning and is going to start seeing people as who they voted for, and not as the person you have always known them to be, then you are what is wrong with America.”

No! Hell no!

You don’t get to vote for a racist, misogynist pig and then proclaim to the world that you’re “incredible, beautiful and inspirational.”

You don’t get to sit in your lily-white churches and absolve yourselves of guilt.

You don’t get to play the holier-than-thou card after casting your lot with people who would move my bi-racial granddaughter behind a wall, and for a guy who started the racist birther movement against our first black president.

You don’t get to strum Kumbaya on your ukulele after voting for a man who continues to fuel the demonization of one of the world’s major religions, and ostracize the millions of good people of that faith.

Hell no! That stain won’t rub off!

You Trump supporters make me want to vomit. I can’t go through a single day without looking around at strangers and wondering:

  • “Would that old man in the grocery store with his grandchild be someone who would turn my grandchild over to a goon squad because of her long black hair and brown eyes?”
  • “Is that woman at the gas station someone who would spit in the faces of my LGBT friends because of their open display of affection?”
  • “Is that a child who is feeling so empowered after hearing Trump’s rhetoric that he might tell his Muslim teacher to go hang herself by her own hijab?”

If they could hear my thoughts about them, Trump supporters would say, “Oh, but we would NEVER do any of those things!” But don’t you see, you miserable morons, you already DID do all those things when you voted for a guy who ran a campaign based on exactly that!

Want to know who you people remind me of? Seriously? You remind me of the smug and smiling citizens of Weimar, Germany, who were paraded through Buchenwald after it was liberated by U.S. Troops in 1945. Oh, we didn’t know what we were supporting!

By now you’re saying:

  • “Oh, that video is so inflammatory!”
  • “But, we’re not like that at all!”
  • “Donald Trump is nothing like Hitler!”
  • “This is America, it can’t happen here!”

Well guess what, assholes . . .

Philadelphia, U.S.A.

. . . it already is.

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