Most Can See, Many Are Blind

I’m well traveled. I’ve been all over the world. I’ve met many varied peoples and cultures. In my heart, I’ve always been that country girl from a tiny Texas town. I grew up in a conservative Christian home, and those are still my values. I also grew up  with a  mother who in my  young childhood was over protective. Always warning about not trusting anyone blindly.  This was at a time before internet predators. This was a time when every kid was “free-range.” My mom was an overbearing paranoid security hawk  before it was “cool.”

I grew up just thinking this was “normal.” Everybody was like this, right? No. I found out exactly why my mother was the person she is when I was 13. That was the age she was when it began. When I reached 13, she was an emotional rollercoaster. Then one night, she broke down in a flood of tears and told me and my father, whom she had been married to for 15 years at that time, the entire ugly truth.

My mother was a victim of sexual abuse from her stepfather for 6 years. It began within a few months of her mother, my grandmother, marrying him. My mother had been raised by a single mother for 11 years, so naturally at first, the idea of a father was exciting to her. That dream was quickly shattered. Even when her older brother tried to intervene, nothing helped. My grandmother wouldn’t give up her new financial security. When my mother was going to go live with an aunt, her mother’s husband threatened to divorce her. So as is typical in  abuse, my mother was forced to stay in the abuse to appease the money maker, the abuser.  She was able to finally escape at age 19 by marrying my father and burying her secret for years. That is until her only daughter turned 13.

My mother is fine today. She’s still overly emotional  and suspicious, but overall she is one of the strongest women I know.

Now to the point. When I see pictures of a certain presidential nominee touching and canoodling with his own daughter in a way many find inappropriate. I am repulsed. I see it. It is not innocent. It is not normal father daughter affection. It is a symptom of an underlying disease. A man like that is unfit for the  presidency. He is unfit for anything other than scorn and perhaps an orange jumpsuit with his own state issued serial number.


Jesus vs. Cheeto Jesus

Jesus is the Son of God. The most powerful and yet humble while simultaneously perfect and selfless  person to have ever lived. He gave his very life to die for all humanity to save them. He suffered and died. He was wounded for our transgression and bruised for our iniquities. (I’ll give trumpbots a moment to look up that word.)  This brings us to the moment of true comparison.

I’m not a preacher, not a Sunday school teacher. I don’t even profess to be a “good” Christian. Whatever that is. But I do know the  bible. I do know what it says.

Donald Trump is a mockery of Christianity. He is an anathema to anyone who is a Christian with an attention span longer than that of a gnat.  His soul is God’s to judge.  His character is plain to see. “Cheeto jesus” is nothing but fake orange imitation cheesy substitute for those who portend to be Christian but who have never actually been introduced to the real Jesus. If you protest that you “are a real Christian who supports Trump,” I say to you… Satan himself believes Jesus is the Son of God. Look deep inside, unless you are a trumpbot, in which case, I know you won’t because it scares you.



When Do I Feel Guilty?

There aren’t many occasions when I feel guilty. Occasionally when I don’t call my mother for two weeks. Occasionally when I snicker at fat people at the mall. Don’t act like you’ve never done it… LIAR

I express myself. No guilt. I say exactly what I think. No guilt. I use explicit language when addressing trumpbots. No guilt.

I only feel a very slight pang of guilt when I stay away from Twitter for a while because when I return, my tweeps appear to have missed my raucous, abrasive, balls to the wall style. So in view of this…

I’m truly sorry. I prostrate myself before you and beg your forgiveness. Now get the hell over it and give those trumpbots hell!


What do you see?

When you walk into a room and glance around, what do you see? Do you count how many Hispanics are there? How many African Americans? Do you look for the burqas? Or do you look for someone to chat with? Look for the open bar? Look for the snacks?

If you said anything other than the bar or restroom, you need to look inside yourself. Who the hell are you? If you immediately judge who you can mingle with based on race or religion, you are a biased, small minded person. Accept it. Own it. Hell, embrace it. You’ll do the rest of us a service, because we will be able to spot you upon walking in the room. You’ll be huddled in the corner with your all white buddies. You know, the small group of 3 people in the corner, giving each other high fives. You’re the outcasts. You’re the anathemas. Thank you for helping us so easily find you. Goodbye.


And now a word from our sponsor…

Brought to you today for the low low price of your soul… The GOP promises you the moon wrapped up in the “great America” bow! All it costs is the price of your principles and soul (plus extra shipping and handling)…

As for me, I’ll just flip the channel over to QVC. The selection and prices are much better. Hell I saw a toaster on there today that is only $9.95 and it’ll make your bed and do the laundry. Hell of a deal.

#NeverTrump because your soul isn’t worth the alternative.

Word Vomit

What is “word vomit”? Is it intellectual thought out responses? Is it guttural verbiage from a guttural candidate? Or is it the remnants of the words eaten and souring in a stomach stew before it can be turned into bowel interment?

I’ll go with the latter. What happens when you have a stomach flu? You start vomiting before the final stages turn into a boiling amalgam of raw food that is spewed from the lower bowel. Liquid with remnants of solid undigested food bits.

Any way you “spin” it, all of the above describes in explicit detail the “substance” that is Trump. He is the author of “word vomit” or “explosive contagious diarrhea” either way, you lose. You lose it all. Even your last enjoyable meal.