LJ cut for length and adult language
Yes, I am quite bitter that things came out Not The Way I Would Prefer.
If I don't write this now, I won't be able to write anything else today, and I have work to do. But I'm warning you, I doubt I have ever written anything as vitriolic and hateful as this. If you didn't vote yesterday, prepare yourself or scroll away, for I am about to shred you to ribbons, and this time, unlike most times, I am not smiling up my sleeve. Not Even A Little Bit.
To my friends in other countries:
I truly am sorry about this. Can you forgive my country? Can you believe that I, and most of the people I know, are amazing, intelligent people who tried to keep this from happening, even though it happened anyway? From our good example, because we are worthwhile people, can you salvage some lingering respect for the fading dream that is America?
Failing that, can I come live with you?
To those who voted yesterday, or even earlier:
Thank you. I mean it. You now have bitching rights for the next four years. I promise to listen patiently.
To everyone who didn't vote yesterday, and could have:
No, seriously. Yesterday, I had a shred of hope, I could be cool about it. Not today, not with Bush still in the White House, with potential new justices poised to move in on my reproductive rights, and anti-gay marriage laws passed in eleven states, including my own.
So, to all of you who didn't realize or care enough that there was a lot more at stake than just who's going to be making those boring speeches that interrupt your stupid sports or sitcom reruns or whatever the fuck it is you watch on your rat-tweaking Skinner box of a television:
Fuck you. Fuck you in your stupid ass.
If my handsome, talented, funny, brilliant and utterly and distressingly honorable friend with the beautiful, full-of-grace, more-deserving-than-me wife gets sent back to Afghanistan for another year because Bush is STILL in the White House . . . if those baby-lovin', woman hatin' Republicans claim my uterus to breed more soldiers for their asinine wars, it would only serve you right if I personally come to your house and beat your non-voting ass until you are choking on your own blood and vomit. Then I should piss on you and set your fucking house on fire.
But I won't have to do that. It's likely you'll feel like a complete heel after four more years of this shit, without me having to do a thing. It's possible you'll get drafted, and if not you, someone you know. I hope you care about them. I hope you care about them a LOT. I hope you cry into your pillow every goddamn night.
It's possible that while you aren't looking, they'll pass a wonderful, fun law that outlaws one kind of abortion, and then pass another that is even worse. It's possible that courts will begin to support those misguided and reprehensible doctors and pharmacists that deny birth control to people based on their own faulty moral compass. It's possible that you or your girlfriend might end up knocked up and desperate, and unable to do anything about it except cross your fingers and hope. And when the baby you didn't want is in school, guess what? It will not get taught how not to get itself or anyone else pregnant. No. It'll be taught that God created the world in seven days. I hope you really love the smell of dirty diapers, because with one slip, you could be in baby shit up to your nose for the rest of your life.
It's possible that, thanks to medieval legislation, the few good years the gay rights movement has had could be renduced to a single bright candleflame against the black backdrop of ignorance, bigotry, and fear. Anti-sodomy laws for all, including you! I hope you don't get much head now, and I hope you don't like assfucking, because if it isn't illegal where you live where you are now (and you really should know), it might be, soon!
And that kid you couldn't prevent and couldn't abort? Could be gay. Or you could have a gay relative, a gay friend, right now. How would you justify your inaction then? Or, most poetically, you could fall in love with someone of your own sex. Are you going to be the one to explain to your heartbroken son why he can't marry his lover? Are you going to tell your coworker that the reason his partner of 20 years can't legally inheirit without it being contested to Hell and back is that you, and all your kind, couldn't be bothered to switch off Spongebob, crawl out from whatever benighted rock you live under, and push a fucking button, fill in a circle, or draw a little line? Are you going to tell your lover that if you had known, if you had only known that it would make a difference? No. You'll keep quiet. Just like you did yesterday.
I hope you fall in love with someone of your same sex, want to get married, can't, and then they get drafted and shot, and you don't hear about it for a month, and you hear about it on your fucking birthday or Christmas or something. And you are – somehow – pregnant and unable to get an abortion. Or health care.
You might think I'm exaggerating, and I hope to their one white God I am, but if you had ever had a friend getting potentially shot at overseas, and you didn't hear one single word from him for weeks at a time, you might feel differently. If you'd ever had a reproductive scare and realized that, because of asinine laws, you might not be able to get an abortion in time for it to be legal, you might feel differently. If you had ever been in love – real love – with anyone, or if you had ever been discriminated against, you might understand how hideous it is to discriminate against people and encourage hate based on who someone else loves. Or even just who someone likes to fuck. You might actually care about the bigger issues at stake. Issues that affect people who (gasp!) aren't you.
But you grew up able to vote, even if you're black or female. You grew up safe, with your friends safe, in a world where it's okay to have an abortion if everything goes to shit and the unthinkable happens. So you take all this for granted, because it's always been there.
I hope, for your undeserving sake, that does not change.
You may think your vote would not have made a difference. Now we'll never know, will we?
So . . . fuck you.
I would hit you apathetic little bastards up for money for my sterilization, but I doubt you'd bother to get off the couch long enough to root for change under your spreading American ass.
Fuck you. And fuck you again.
No. Really. I don't want to hear your bitching. You could have voted early, if Election Day was going to be so much trouble. It's not like they only announce it the day of.
You all deserve what you get. I just hate that I, and people I love, might have to get it, too.
So . . . now you know how I feel. No, I don't need to know how you feel. Whether you voted or not yesterday tells me everything I need to know about how you feel. And if you're willing to sit in your fucking chair and justify yourself to me, a complete stranger, then you should have cared enough to go and vote. So I don't want to hear it.
And, yes, this is posted with comments disabled. Not because I fear people disagreeing with me – I know you reprehensible little fucks are out there, with your oh-so-reasonable moral objections to the System, or your uncertainty, or your fear of choosing badly (which you did, by not choosing at all). No, I am not afraid of what you would say to me. I fear what I would do if I knew who you were.
If anyone posted some self-justifying bullshit about how they couldn't vote, or didn't agree with either candidate, and blah-blah-blah . . . oooh. I don't even want to know who you are. I'm so pissed, I would probably ban you. And I don't want to do that, because in a few days, after some heavy self-medicating, I will feel better. I think.
So, until then, I will now leave you alone with your shriveled raisin of a conscience and let you get back to your friends list.