Or shoot themselves, metaphorically—because they can’t find new code for We sacks o shit who stab the back and smile and smile and smile for their selfies.
Our words are gross. But not as bad as what called our souls.
We really suck. Check out something called Jesse J’s “Imagine,” you don’t trust me.
Sheer politics? How fuckin great was this year on that front? Universal healthcare’s beginnings not aborted by the Court, Gay = Equal (in name only, where else do you start, but not murdered by the Court), global warming’s first world deal (not killed by Congress because it can’t), nuclear cooling for a decade or two more (not killed by Congress, tho bombing Iran Choice #l, because the Congress can’t read, so the Constitution doesn’t exist, which means Congress crowns Netanyahoo king of Our House, and again traitorous to the man we elected, thereby to US: tells us they get to make international treaties, not the President). And last not least is the fact it’s become conventional wisdom that police beating-into-murder of blacks is a systemic problem. Not random. Not a figment of black victim-thinking. It’s racial, it’s real, it’s wrong.
Last time we had a President whose hand was all over all that?
But because we’re a nation of assholes now, we laff. And act as if parading Unity should be our highest goal and like Don’t know Don’t care is the right motto for 300 million ignorant fucks.
Well, I’m outta here. For the record, New Year’s was brought to me by Master Card (that convenient red-ball yellow-ball logo above the Times Square ball) and Toshiba (capitalizing, name above the clock). And that shitmouthed demonstrative-ing animal-wearing J woman demonizing IMAGINE, as song or act-of-will below the mantra for something Fitness. Mantra reads: JUDGEMENT FREE ZONE.
I’ve no doubt the misspelling is deliberate. Because being wrong’s more fun. American mantra, 2015. We don’t even deserve the year we got.
Excerpted (with permission) from a New Year’s Day email to family.