The other day an overly “confident” acquaintance began spewing unprompted about how proud they are about what Trump is doing. The Gemini bitch in me began to purr and lick her chops. Calm down kitty, no need to play with your food, you’re not even hungry.
People like this all look the same to me no matter who they worship, democrats, republicans, idols, celebrities. They are all fanatics. They are all desperate. Searching for value, worth, and love from strangers, from wolves in sheep’s clothing, from enemies, from systems that have never had earth and humanity’s best interest in mind. Their mouths flapping and chomping like nutcrackers, spitting, seething, hating, mirroring those they follow. It all smells of the same shitty stench and I’ve always been way too sensitive to smell. “Fuck ’em all, I’m an anarchist,” I responded. Immediate fear flashed through her face. Once she noticed that I noticed her fear she began back peddling as they usually do, with “wells” and “ums” that could soothe a colicky baby to sleep.
CONVERSATIONS WITH ASSHOLES 