I run in a circle, and often in circles, with a very eclectic crowd of friends, family and accomplices — and I mean politically. Thanks mostly to Facebook, I’ve rediscovered old friends, come across new ones (who amazingly seem to darn near always agree with me), and continue to pretty much just go along with (and against) the diehards in my life.
I have about 250 Facebook friends, 175 of which I never hear from anymore. This is a shame because I really didn’t mind the endless pictures of their kids, dogs, gardens, and Sam Elliott memes, as in: “You must be some kind of stupid, Elmo, if you don’t think you need some respite from all the political bullshit on your News Feed.”
Truth is, most likely I don’t hear from them because long ago they got sick of hearing from me. This is completely fair and why I am now blogging in an attempt to turn off a whole new segment of the Internet populous. Don’t say you weren’t warned, Elmo.
Of the 75 I do hear from, I’d say 50 are political. Thirty-nine of the 50 are doing their damnedest to scrub the orange out of their eyes from the election, which is otherwise known to them as The Night Sleep Ended. The other 11 friends are celebrating and coming up with all sorts of creative ways to post pictures of a wrinkled Hillary burning several flags at once while doing tequila shots with crooked Arabs. “See?? We told ya,” they say. As if the reality of Donald Trump sitting in the White House hasn’t completely mind-fucked us enough.
And by the way, I’m fairly certain The Other 175 were a big part of the 44 percent who didn’t vote on the day before The Night Sleep Ended, and I think Mark Zuckerberg can confirm this, but the fucker won’t friend me. Stay tuned, though.
Ah, well. To the victors go the spoils. Congratulations. Thanks to you I’ve also started a Twitter account so I can keep up with the marching orders coming down from the Fondler in Chief in the Golden Tower. Good times.
Then there’s my family…
… I’m really pretty rotten about keeping in touch with a lot of ’em, but those closest to me see Trump for what he is — you know, an overall threat to mankind and animals. We are still trying to rationalize the whole thing to each other, but after 15 minutes of that we all of sudden find ourselves screaming. We’re close to wanting to kill each other, but finally we agree to agree, and that we’re lucky we don’t own guns. Then we go back to our cell phones and hit Facebook hoping one or two of The Other 175 are posting hilarious pictures of cats sleeping on dogs which are precariously close to falling off rumpled couches.
There are a few in my family, I hear, who sleep with several guns, because you can never be too sure, ya know. They somehow eked through eight years of Obama. And while he never took away their guns, he was dangerously close to taking Christ out of Christmas, and badly damaging our military which otherwise should constantly be fixing for a fight — and over there not here. We have too many perfectly good malls that would be ruined if the enemy ever engaged on our soil. These malls sell guns, and, well, you know …
Anyway, this part of my family lives in South Carolina … or Alabama … or Idaho. I’d say they pray for me, but even they are smart enough to know I am a lost soul, who brusquely tries to make sense out of things and people that just don’t make sense, like Mitch McConnell.
So these are my friends and family. We are America … Well, except for the ones who live in Canada and Europe and the Far East. They are wondering just what in the fuck is going on over here. Lucky for them, there’s Facebook.