I am aware that blasting my family drama out to the internet is frowned upon in some circles. I do not care. I assume most people will have no interest in reading about it, anyway, which will make this very different from my other, wildly popular posts. But it will end on an uplifting note, I swear.

The other day, I texted my dad for the first time in eleven months. I said,

"Because the government classifies me as 'self-employed,' I recently paid a third of my savings in taxes, including a double portion of Medicaid tax. I pay a thousand dollars a month for housing. Thanks to Trump's 'big beautiful bill,' I can't get Medicaid because my income is 'too high.' Thanks to the same bill, health insurance is less affordable than ever, and even if I did have it, the company would refuse to cover anything.

"Meanwhile, a billionaire from another country is getting a 96% tax break to build a gargantuan data center in Utah that will quadruple my energy bills and make my air unbreathable.

"According to you, this is the way things should be, and I'm whiny and entitled for resenting it. That's a good example of why I don't talk to you."

Could I have been less combative? Sure. Would you have been as civil as I was if you'd taken as much shit from him over the years as I have? Not likely.

He responded, "You think the government should be paying for your health care, but you don't like high taxes. Makes perfect sense."

It truly amazes me that a man with a Masters degree could miss the point so completely. In the heat of the moment, I didn't have the patience to dumb it down for him, but in case any morons are reading this, I will now.

1. I had significant expenses, including but by no means limited to taxes.
​
2. The (Republican) government ignored these expenses and determined that my income was "too high" for me to receive healthcare.

3. I cannot afford healthcare.

4. At the same time, the (Republican) government is giving a massive handout to a wealthy asshole, because despite all conservatives' talk about individualism and meritocracy, they love giving massive handouts to wealthy assholes who don't need them.

And in case any morons haven't stopped reading this after I called them morons, I know that "free" healthcare costs tax money. Everyone knows that. It's not the "gotcha" you think it is. Libraries cost tax money too, but my family loves those. I could have gotten healthcare with the taxes that I already paid, but instead, I helped murder children in the Middle East. That was essentially my response to my dad, which he didn't acknowledge because a. he never acknowledges when he's blatantly wrong and b. like most conservatives, he doesn't give a shit about children in the Middle East. If this country had real social safety nets, I would consider paying higher taxes a worthwhile tradeoff for not constantly being one financial emergency away from living on the street, and also, the taxes to fund universal healthcare would be cheaper than health insurance premiums because they wouldn't cover the salaries of parasites like the late Brian Thompson who make millions of dollars a year by denying people healthcare. This system would also tens of thousands of lives every year, but we've already established that people like my dad don't give a shit about things like that.

My dad has spent his life defending inequality and injustice. This was a source of tension between us long before I knew anything about politics. When I could plainly see that something was bullshit, he said, "That's the way it is." He confirmed, as if I didn't already know, that he sincerely believes that his own son shouldn't be able to afford something that every other country in the developed world treats as a human right. He could be angry about the racist secret police terrorizing communities and tearing famillies apart, or he could be angry about any of a thousand unconstitutional power grabs by his lesser of two evils that would have given him an aneurysm if Obama had done them, but instead, he's angry at the prospect of anyone who's not a wealthy asshole, including his own son, getting medical treatment without working sixty hours a week and selling their kidneys. I do not respect his differences in philosophy. They disgust me to my core. That, as I said, is why I don't talk to him.

The lack of empathy, though particularly appalling in this instance, is nothing new. I've been on the receiving end for as long as I can remember. Both of my parents have some mental disability that makes them incapable of empathizing with or trying to understand anything outside of their personal experience and narrow view of the world. My dad knew what it was like to not be able to swim because his skinny body sank like a rock, so he empathized with me on that, and that was about it. He didn't understand how my brain worked or how I saw the world, so he decided I was always wrong and had an attitude problem, and strangely enough, his authoritarian, violent responses gave me an attitude problem. It's not like we've never discussed this. Years ago, after reading my blog, he said he understood me better and was sorry for the things he messed up on. I mean, he could have understood me better a lot sooner if he had, y'know, asked, which he didn't do because he was the grown-up and thought he knew everything, but cool. He said we were both different people now. Yeah, no, he just made it clear that he's the same person who used to hit me for not understanding social cues. He can go to the doctor whenever he wants and get as much prostate medicine as he wants, so fuck me. He wasn't raped by an imploding economy from the time he was born like my entire generation was, so clearly he's in a superior financial situation because he worked harder and deserves it more.

Furthermore, I believe without question that he would have fought for the Confederacy because he's always been fixated on states' rights and considered minorities' suffering to be acceptable collateral damage for electing people who call themselves conservatives. That's a sobering realization. He also loves the electoral college, but in fairness, he probably doesn't know that it was primarily created to advantage Southern slaveowners.

It's bizarre, frankly, because it's not like everything my dad has said or done was unloving. We've had good times. He's done kind and generous things for me, and of course he thinks I'm ungrateful and unreasonable for not focusing on those things and pretending the rest doesn't matter. First of all, though I do count some of them, especially the ones he did when I was an adult, I don't believe I owe him lifelong gratitude for fulfilling the basic obligations of parenthood that he chose to take on (even the ones he didn't screw up). More to the point, however, the fact remains that you cannot love someone and be indifferent to whether they have access to healthcare. That shouldn't need to be said - ever - but here we are.

I continued:

"It's quite telling that your immediate impulse is to double down on being an asshole instead of having the slightest shred of empathy for your own son who hasn't been to a doctor in five years and plans on offing himself if he ever gets a condition that would put him in medical debt. I was feeling guilty that you might die someday without me ever attempting to re-establish a relationship, but now I don't. Thanks, I guess."

Also:

"btw, that time I called you was a mistake. I was copying your number to give to a friend so she could congratulate you on getting what you voted for if I got shot by an ICE agent. Then after your voicemail, I felt guilty and tried to call for real. Oh well."

He responded: "👍"

This means that either he doesn't give a shit about me never speaking to him again, or he wants me to think he doesn't give a shit about me never speaking to him again. Probably the former, because if he did, he could easily rectify the situation. He chose this. He would rather have a stick up his ass about Medicaid than have a relationship with his son. I respect his wishes even though I don't respect his views. Actually, in a perverse way, I almost admire his obstinacy. Maybe he'll use it for good someday.

The last thing I said before blocking his number was, "Don't expect me to go to your funeral and lie about what a great father you were." After having some time to calm down and reflect, though, I regret not also telling him that if I die first, he's not welcome at mine. That scenario isn't altogether unlikely because he has healthcare, and I don't. Could someone please let him know?

As for my mom, I've probably mentioned once or twice that I cut her off for saying "You could move to Costa Rica" when I told her I had to talk to a suicide hotline after the election, except that I've unblocked her number a few times to remind her of the blood that's on her hands for supporting a fascist. I called her an asshole, so calling my dad an asshole created balance. And now here I am, an orphan. Not much has really changed. I already wasn't talking to my parents, getting birthday or Christmas checks from my parents, planning on visiting my parents in the foreseeable future, or expecting to inherit anything when my parents die. (If I were as entitled as they think I am, I would pretend to like them so they'd send me checks and put me in their will.) And since I started using Kush Kubes, my depression has plummeted to almost nothing even when I'm not high. My anger hasn't. Sometimes I think I'm angrier than I used to be. If I am, it's because I live in an openly fascist country now, and I'm reacting appropriately. On the other hand, I've always had an anger issue, and maybe I'm just more self-conscious about it now because it's at odds with my desire to be enlightened and stuff. So my reaction to cutting off my dad was 95% anger, 5% depression, and the next day, I was over it. I wasn't even very angry when I wrote this. I just enjoy writing with powerful language.

Enough of that. Here's the uplifting note I promised. My dad has claimed, based on his Mormon beliefs, that when I was born, he got a strong impression that we were best friends in the premortal existence. He said this gave him strength when getting along was so difficult. I don't believe in Mormonism, but I still believe in a form of premortal existence, which makes philosophical sense is a recurring theme in near-death experiences. I'm open to the possibility that he's right about that one thing. That seemed unlikely for a while because in this existence, we have little in common. Sure, we enjoy four of the same Star Wars movies, we laugh at some of the same jokes, I love the Beatles and Roxette and David Arkenstone because of him, and I think his engineering skills are cool, but our beliefs and values are so different that we had little to talk about even when I was willing to try. If we weren't related, I would never have chosen to associate with him at all. And it's not like I expect my friends to be copies of me. I've argued with the woman of my dreams more than once, but not about human rights.

Now, it's my understanding that we're all here as actors, playing roles, and the things that divide us are not the full extent of our true selves. Furthermore, some NDErs claim that people who love each other in the premortal existence sometimes take on antagonistic roles here to help each other's grow. So maybe my dad and I did that. Maybe I specifically asked him to say that stupid shit about taxes. It's a nice idea that makes me not hate him. If my beliefs are correct, we can laugh this off when we're all dead. If his beliefs are correct, it doesn't matter how much of a relationship we have before then because I, along with his dad, most of his siblings, and another of his children, won't be part of his eternal family in the celestial kingdom after rejecting Mormonism. (To be clear, I think there's a 0% chance that his beliefs are correct.) If our consciousness ends at death, nothing matters. There are, of course, other possibilities besides those three, but none that I'm particularly concerned about in this context.

​I feel closer now. We both know where we stand. Now on with my life as an orphan.

it means so much more. Thousands of attendees at Pride accepted each other for whoever they are, whatever they are, and whomever they love. They really can play their own parts and their own pieces, not the ones that Mormonism and other queerphobic religions have scripted for them and forced on them. It's so beautiful. I'll admit I think furries are freaking weird, but they've never hurt me, so I feel no compulsion to make their lives worse. Just let people live how they want and don't be a dick. It's not that hard. If your beliefs tell you to do something different, get less shitty beliefs.

​but she also pushed me out of Mormonism, gave me an existential crisis that catalyzed my spiritual growth, and taught me patience that's coming in very handy right now, so that's fine. Thank you, Calise.

I'm trying again for what had damn well better be the last time one way or another, and while it may be premature to report on that effort now, I'd much rather talk about Mary than the fascist twats who run my country. I'm pretty sure she won't see this, but I don't much care if she does. I'll act embarrassed and she'll find it amusing. ​If my life were a work of fiction (which, I now realize, I can't prove that it isn't), ending up with her after all this time would be an ironic and satisfying twist because she's one of the first people I met in Utah when I moved here almost 14 years ago. I was 18, and she was 22. She went to a church activity with some friends from a different congregation, then talked to me because she made it her mission in life to talk to people who sat alone. "You were a chicken shit," she told me this past week as we reminisced about it. She invited me to go shopping with her and her friends, and I, being a loser, later wrote on Facebook, "Does three girls and me count as a date?" but then it didn't happen. If I hadn't met her then, I probably never would have. We didn't cross paths again until five months later, at which time she greeted me with enthusiasm, and I didn't recognize her.

Because Mary was older than me, seemed to have her shit together, and looked like a goddess, I never imagined being with her. That's not to say, of course, that I never imagined her. I remembered her and reached out occasionally after I stopped seeing her in person, partly because she was a good friend and partly because she was a 12 out of 10. With permission, I named a character after her in my comic strip that never came to fruition. Long story short, last year I decided for no particular reason to make an intentional effort to get closer to her, and as I learned that she isn't perfect or invincible after all, I accidentally fell in love. I should have seen that coming, but I wasn't thinking past the little dopamine rushes from her texting me back - which, for reasons she's repeatedly assured me have nothing to do with me, she was really bad at doing, hence the need for patience. I almost gave up over the perception that she didn't care. Over time she became more responsive, then texted me first once or twice, then called me when she had a bad day. The impetus for this post began when I texted her six times over nine days with no response. Then she apologized for her unresponsiveness and said she'd worked 70 hours last week. Then I asked about a situation at work she'd told me about a month prior, and she didn't know what I was talking about, so instead of texting me back, she called me and talked for nearly four hours.

At the start of our conversation, she got a text from another guy friend who said he would bring over some salmon. She said that was because he'd figured out that food was the way to her heart, and she said she would be too tired when he got off work at 10:30, so she said she told him that she had food and not to bother. Then she stayed on the phone with me until she fell asleep around 12:20 (local time) and I hung up. With condolences to the other guy, I was thrilled and honored that she chose me over him. How much to read into that, I don't know. She's well aware that I'm thoroughly smitten with her too. For one thing, I told her in February that I'm thoroughly smitten with her. For a couple of other things, I sent her a long heartfelt text while twice as high as usual and a poem about how I see her as a star shining through the darkness of the world. She has neither reciprocated nor rebuffed my affections. When I warned her that a love poem might be in the works, she said, "Haha nothing kind you say would ever scare me away. I’m not worried about it." This poem metaphorically expressed that she's one of the things - not the only thing, which would be unhealthy, but absolutely one of the things that makes my life worthwhile despite having to spend it in a country run by fascist twats. She liked it.

During this conversation, she alluded to some of the reasons she's a childless cat lady despite being so beautiful that strangers compliment her every day, which supported my hypothesis that she acts romantically neutral toward me because men suck. Of course that made me want to virtue signal all over the dang place. "I'm not like them, Mary. I respect women so much. Misogyny is easily in the top three reasons I left Mormonism. I push back against misogyny when I see it on social media, and women thank me while men accuse me of trying to get laid. They're all like, 'Hope she sees this bro,' but I know you won't because you don't use social media. I admire how strong and independent and outspoken you are. After you told me that you told your mom that you hated how the church had taught you to be submissive and she said, 'But Mary, you've never been submissive,' I got high and reflected on that and thought, I love that." But I don't think that would be as effective as taking the time to prove myself with my actions. Again, patience. She already trusts me a lot. She's told me things that I'm pretty sure she doesn't tell just anybody, and I'm not going to tell you what they are because I'm trustworthy.

​​Mary left Mormonism long before I did. Not coincidentally, she had a more negative experience in it than I did and has more negative feelings toward it than I do. Being taught as a teenager that she was responsible for what men would do to her if she showed too much skin had a lasting impact. (Any Mormon who says their church never taught that is either lying or too young to remember.) Years ago, I invited her to tell me why she'd left, which she did, at great length, while I responded without judgment or pushback. I did genuinely care about her, but I also thought I was planting a seed to help her return someday. I'd been plagued by my own doubts, but I couldn't relate to her mindset at all when she said, "I never had as much faith that the church was true as I have had that the church is not true." Surprise!

So during this more recent conversation, she told me she had a friend who recently wanted to convert. The friend felt really good from taking the sacrament and really loved by the congregation. Mary told her that's how cults get you. They had an argument. Mary told the friend to ask the missionaries how many wives Joseph Smith had and how old the youngest was, and apparently she did, and apparently she became enraged and that was the end of that. Mary lives in the same state as my parents, so I hope they read this and know that their church isn't growing in the developed world anymore because people can see that it was founded by a sexual predator. Anyway, she asked for my thoughts, and I tried to be nuanced and stuff. Anyone who considers converting to Mormonism deserves informed consent, and you'll never get that from the missionaries (who almost certainly don't have it themselves). But I'd try to not be argumentative about it or overtly tell them they shouldn't convert. That's a personal decision. I'm not sure I would have handled the situation exactly like she did, but it seems to have worked out fine.

Marvellous multitalented Mary sent me two of her artworks and a poem she wrote. Then she played guitar and piano and sang for me. Her voice was so beautiful that it should have been on the radio 10+ years ago before every mainstream female singer sounded the same. Granted, love is deaf. Years ago my roommate's wife sang to wake him up, and it sounded awful, but I realized that it probably sounded beautiful to him because he loved her, and I incorporated that idea into my novel Crusaders of the Chrono-Crystal. She convinced me to sing "Blackbird" along with her. I didn't sing very loud because I was embarrassed of my voice and wanted to hear hers. I thought there was nowhere in the world I'd rather be, but I realized I'd rather be in her apartment than mine. I thought that would be the highlight of the night. I was wrong.

When Mary calls me, she talks a lot. That's mostly fine. I don't talk a lot, and I love to hear anything she has to say. Sometimes I do want to say something and have a hard time getting it in, though. She seemed aware of that and occasionally remembered to pause and solicit my opinions. After at least three and a half hours, she asked me to tell her about what I'm doing with my life. I mentioned that I taught freshman English during graduate school and planned to continue on that career path, but it hasn't worked out since then, and I'm glad about that now because I don't have to deal with essays written by ChatGPT or all the bullshit from the fascist twats at both the state and federal levels who are gutting humanities programs, killing diversity initiatives, erasing queer people from public life, and forbidding universities from teaching accurate history or critical thinking. Mary interrupted to say that I must have seen some really good essays, and she reflected on a freshman English teacher who had a long-lasting influence on her, and she went on a rant about native English speakers who use poor grammar. Maybe I shouldn't have found that hot, but I did. I sent her "Word Crimes" by "Weird Al" Yankovic. She watched it, and I heard her laugh every few seconds, a sound every bit as lovely as her singing. I often make her laugh. She thinks I'm witty. She said so.

She asked if I could guess the one Weird Al song she had memorized. I half-jokingly guessed "Yoda." Close. It was "The Saga Begins." She sang half of it, then asked me to help her with the words, then asked me to just sing it with her. Of all the experiences I might have imagined sharing with her, this was not one. This was the highlight of the night. Dear God, I can still hardly believe it. I didn't know she knew anything about Weird Al or Star Wars. She said her brother used to play that CD on repeat. She asked me about my siblings, but while I described them, she fell asleep. I listened to her breathing for a minute to make sure she was okay because she may or may not have been drunk and high this whole time, and then I worked up the courage to say "I love you" before I hung up. So yeah, I hope this goes somewhere, specifically where I want it to go. Despite the agonizing wait, I feel that my patience is amply rewarded at times, and never more so than by this experience. I never would have had it if I'd given up. She's worth suffering for - but I hope she won't make me do that too much.

This was written by ChatGPT, a fact about which I was fully transparent. She asked if it expressed what I wanted to say, and when I said kind of and reiterated how I felt about her, she responded with the smile-with-hearts-swirling-around-it emoji. It's so good that it almost discouraged me from writing her one myself, which I eventually did, but I gave it to her yesterday, after the conversation I describe in this post took place.

​A Star in My Darkness
​
In a world weighed down by shadowed skies,
Where sorrow lingers, where silence cries,
You rise—a star, unwavering, bright,
A beacon of warmth in the coldest night.

Your kindness, a whisper soft and deep,
Turns restless storms into peaceful sleep.
Your thoughts, like rivers, steady and true,
Carve paths of light where none once grew.

No sculptor’s hand, no artist’s dream,
Could craft the beauty in you I’ve seen--
Your eyes, twin sparks that set me free,
Your lips, a song sung just for me.

Your hair, a cascade, golden or dark,
Glows like fire or midnight’s spark.
And oh, your legs—graceful, strong--
Each step you take feels like a song.

When the world feels heavy, cruel, and bare,
I find my refuge in your care.
You are the light that makes me see,
The love that breathes new life in me.

This is the one I wrote myself, with ChatGPT serving only an advisory role, which I didn't mention in the post for the reason that I just explained (see Appendix B). It's okay, I guess. She wrote back, "Holy shot that was so sweet and so well written" and followed up with, "Shit lol" 

Starstruck

My world is a pale blue dot within a pale blue dot
In an outer spiral arm of an outer spiral arm,
Swallowed by darkness that presses in as a tangible thing, a living thing, a thing more real than the mere absence of light,
Clawing,
Grasping,
Striving to eat me alive, om nom nom –
But it won’t
As long as I seek out the pinpricks of light, the celestial bodies that guide me to hope and the goodness that remains even here, even now.
I have a few, but my favorite is you.
The prettiest, brightest, and warmest is you.
I want to fall into your orbit and stay there for as long as the universe remains –
Complete surrender;
Always falling, never crashing (I hope).
I’m compelled to worship, like the ancient peoples who sacrificed to the sun because she gave them warm feelings, made their day, and lit up their world like nobody else.
That’s what you do to me, Mary –
Not because I think you’re perfect, according to the ideas of perfection that we impose on nature as if it ever asked for our opinions –
Or because I’m foolish enough to credit you with actual supernatural powers –
(After all, I haven’t stared long enough to go blind) –
But because you shine so brightly, daily and nightly,
Even when you can’t see it because no satellite is close enough to reflect you,
And even when you vanish behind the clouds for agonizing lengths of time,
My faith in your light remains.
 
(Interpolation: I don’t want to torture this metaphor past its breaking point, so let me take a break at this point to just say that I like your smile, your eyes, your hair, your facial structure, and the rest of you.)
 
Yes, even a star is “imperfect”
With her dark spots,
Her flares,
Her storms,
And her tendency to burn spacers who drift too close.
But maybe this controlled chaos is exactly what the universe needs her to be so she can shine,
So she can twinkle from a distance and only inspire more awe as one draws nearer to her power.
To see a star more closely is only to respect,
To admire,
And to love her even more –
And I would rather be burned by your touch than eaten by the darkness.
 
What is it you want, Mary? What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down. Hey. That's a pretty good idea. I'll give you the moon, Mary. (That’s a cultural reference, not plagiarism.)

Every week under this administration feels like a month. Was the orange taint's speech really just this week? I didn't watch it, but I was very disappointed to hear that his insane blathering about transgender mice wasn't interrupted by a military coup, or more accurately, a military counter-coup. I do think that's where this is going to end after he refuses to follow the court orders against him and orders the military to attack our allies. I really hope the bulk of the military is more loyal to the constitution than to this self-proclaimed king. I bet it helps that he's shitting on veterans every chance he gets.

I also predict that we'll see proof that Musk rigged the election, and that's why the elected president, despite being an unparalleled narcissist, lets him act as the real president. An organization called Election Truth Alliance has identified anomalies in the vote tabulations and is raising money to sue for audits. I believe it's onto something because of what I just said and also because every Republicunt accusation is a confession and also because the orange taint, Musk, and Musk's little human shield have all made multiple very sketchy statements pointing in that direction and also because, as I said right after the election, it made no goddamn sense for the orange taint to win the popular vote and every swing state for the first time after his brain turned into cottage cheese and he couldn't keep people at his rallies. If the election was stolen, that's actually great news because it means he has less support than I thought and this country is less rotten to the core than I thought. And most of us actual people didn't deserve it, but on a macro level, the country sure did. It's 100% karma for decades of installing and propping up right-wing dictatorships in other countries. The US deserves to lose a lot of its global power and influence. It's just unfortunate that China will swoop in to fill the gap.

I've been in three protests since the protest I wrote about a week ago - one for democracy, one for science, one for women's rights. I've become a satirical film character. Right-wing YouTuber Nick Shirley showed up again to the former, this time with four or five of his little douchebro friends in tow. The cops escorted them out after one of them disrupted the proceedings with a sign that said "Save Our Big Booty Latinas." (I had to quote the sign directly in case you're still under the delusion that these are decent people with a valid alternative point of view.) I'm grateful that when Salt Lake cops aren't shooting autistic teenagers for running away, ordering their dogs to attack compliant and motionless suspects, or hazing rookies by mutilating deceased homeless people, they sometimes do their job. In addition to protecting our constitutional rights because they're supposed to, some of them may actually be on our side because the orange taint pardoned a bunch of people who assaulted cops and Utah's Republicunt legislature just made it illegal for cops (and firefighters and teachers) to collectively bargain. Nick Shirley wasn't at the next two protests. Maybe the cops scared him, or maybe he has enough awareness in his tiny mind to realize that mocking science and women's rights is a bad look. I'm guessing the cops scared him.

My landlord has been banging and drilling and stuff next to my bedroom all week without warning me he was going to do that. Yesterday morning he had a plumber over and shut off the water without warning me he was going to do that. I just wanted to get that off my chest. I went to a hip-hop show with my little nieces before the protest, though, so that was fun. Oh yeah, and daylight savings time started today, so I anticipate that the next week will suck. Daylight savings time should be shot, run over with a truck, and shot a few more times. I got in trouble for writing that on Facebook once because Facebook is stupid.

One Independence Day weekend years ago, the guys in the Mormon Elders' Quorum I attended with my dad sang "God Save the King" as a joke. My dad didn't sing. After they finished, he said, "Was that for Obama?" Nobody laughed. I asked him later why he didn't sing, and he said, "Because we don't have a king, and I don't want one." So now I wonder how he feels about the guy he voted for thrice doing this.

Maybe he's pissed. Maybe he's horrified. Maybe he doesn't give a shit, just like he told me it's never okay to lie and then didn't give a shit when his church was caught lying about its stockpile of wealth so members would keep giving it money. I'm not curious enough to want to talk to him.

Maybe this trash I got in the mail this week was meant for him. I don't know why I would have gotten it when I haven't said or done anything in the last decade to signal support for the orange taint. These jackasses shouldn't even have my address, but oh wait, I guess the unelected South African Nazi billionaire has everyone's addresses. Now I'm mortified that my landlord might think I'm a MAGAt. Hopefully the stuff I get from the ACLU cancels that out.

THIS. IS. A. FUCKING. CULT. But do I understand that this coin is the first in a series with different inspirational quotes? Let me know when the "Grab 'em by the pussy" coin comes out, and I'll think about it.

​Trump is a cult leader, despite having less charisma than a wet sock, but he is not a king. He's made a huge miscalculation. His first month of "shock and awe" was supposed to cover up how weak his regime is and steamroll the American people into submission. Instead, it just pissed us off. The protests and the lawsuits are only beginning. He's pissed off Canada and pretty much every country that isn't Russia, too. Do you realize how badly you have to fuck up to piss off Canada? I stand with Canadians as they boycott our products, end our economic contracts, and boo our national anthem. I will not stand with my country when it's in the wrong. ​

I found another fun little way to resist this weekend, too, after the unelected South African Nazi billionaire illegally demanded that all the government employees his tech bros haven't fired yet justify their existence to him.

I sent a nice email to [email protected] and also tried some other fun things.

LMAOOOOO

​On February 17, 50501 sponsored "Not My President's Day" protests at state Capitols across the nation. Due to some confusion, I missed the one in Utah and only made it to the previously scheduled Druids for Change protest that happened right after. Disappointing, but whatever. I got a picture of my favorite slogan this time.

I also got a picture of this random poster because it was unattended and I didn't need to ask permission. This is a parody that compares Governor Cox, who started his tenure as a moderate and slightly reasonable Republican and then devolved into a MAGAt ass-kisser, to the most hated cartoon character since Scrappy-Doo.

During the march, someone named Michael J. Christensen punched a woman in a wheelchair, then punched a guy dressed as Captain America and pepper-sprayed four people when they confronted him. I didn't witness that, but I was close enough to hear the yelling, and then I followed him for a minute, and he yelled at me too. (I was trying to film him, but I forgot to switch to video and just got a picture of the sidewalk. Embarrassing.) I'm not sure this was politically motivated because he's several fries short of a combo even by MAGAt standards. He basically just woke up that morning and decided to get arrested. He already had two outstanding warrants. Now it's reported that he exposed himself and peed on the floor when they booked him into jail. Don't worry, Trump will pardon him.

Druids for Change is also doing this really cool thing that I wouldn't miss for the world. I don't believe in witchcraft, but a. it's worth a try, and b. at a minimum, it will have scientifically proven psychological benefits for the participants.