Kathy Griffin’s Bloody Massacre is Utterly Deplorable, And I Dig It
I guess that’s what makes me American
It’s taken me awhile to adjust to how Great America has become or is becoming — I’m not sure what applies, but what I’m certain of is that this endorsed method of madness is being stuffed down my throat without much coating for comfort.
I’m sure you can relate.
The sheer horror of helplessly watching a madman who fits the description of the manic man-child who never had to grow up, because why bother when your future contains the blueprint to a gold-plated fortress — assume the highest office of the land — is a describable feeling that will forever remain bitterly torturous.
Trump won because most Americans were over it! I mean come on! Four years with Obama seemed like a doable punishment, but then he had to take it even further by being knighted for another fucking term!
The pain and agony of watching a Black family in the White House, soiling the halls of history with evidence that a new America is on the horizon must’ve been unbearable. And, yes there is cause to ponder how being White will survive the mix of watercolors, so how the hell do we rectify this national crisis?
