#InTRUMPigenceQuotient: Explaining a Petition

Hashtags are now more important to titles than majuscule.

Is https://www.change.org/p/donald-trump-intrumpigence-quotient-challenge too “on the nose”?

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Sometimes, the worthiest causes are the least likely and the most ridiculous.

If Donald Trump manages to beat Rex Tillerson in respective I.Q. scores, I understand the signees will mostly rely on the honor system when pledging their public fealty to the Republicans for the next decade; and this means little on account of honor being the least valued public commodity in the Nation, with “privacy” a close second. Even if every celebrity currently on social media promoted this petition in the next week, the public takes their pledges to honor anything nearly as unseriously as they do with pledges from elected officials. I have less reason still to think President Trump’d be persuaded to take part in this ridiculous contest: the man is a lifelong coward who, on the significantly more valuable celebrity-word than POTUS’ of Clay Aiken, couldn’t even pick who to fire on a rule-free reality show without the producers telling him who to pick beforehand, let alone get past the “bone-spur” that 4-A’d his pussy-white ass outta Vietnam.

Not only do I hope I’m wrong on all that, I’ll be happier should Donald J. Trump, Sr., score against Rex Tillerson the higher the gap. I even made my own hashtag for the matter that I put in the title, just to see if I can start a storm worthy of it’s own cable-news headline containing a word ending in “-gate”, regardless of #InTRUMPigenceQuotient’s outcome.

Make no mistake: nothing on Earth could make This Author love or like a man who named his youngest son after his imaginary friend*. I dislike the man on a personal level more than I have ever disliked another human being, including those whom legitimately have committed worse crimes than the Alt-Reichmarschall will ever conduct. (Compliments solely to centuries of precedent and the labors of the Founding Fathers. Even Hitler himself couldn’t be Hitler himself under the constraints of the Rule of Law.) This assertion alone will get me plenty of abuse, but Christopher Hitchens was right to note the only meaningful criterion to judge a politician by is the one most routinely dismissed as a red-herring by desperate partisan hacks and the sociopathically corrupt: Personality, or “the trait immune to flip-flops”.

Intelligence is also immune to flip-flops, and it’d be refreshing to see irrefutable proof that Donald Trump possesses a quality that can be put to a useful service, even though not one accomplishment yet sighted by his fanatics as proof of their God-Emperor’s “best words” has any claim to legitimacy when cast under the slightest scrutiny:

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  • He wasn’t the creator of The Apprentice (Survivor‘s Mark Burnett), nor did he pick who to fire on the show (see, Aiken), nor does selling unbranded lemonade provide any business experience to anybody with an active pituitary gland (a.n., 20 million people watched that!? No wonder Nickelback got famous.), nor could a real job of any sort be possible with Omarosa Manigault as a top-tier applicant.
  • His tough-guy machismo bears no connection to the substance of his life: He never served in the military, nor worked a job involving manual labor, nor have any of the jobs he’s had in his life – bar one Stone Cold Stunner in 2007 – required any degree of danger nor physical exertion on his part.
  • Millions of people in the most powerful country on Earth think disliking him means supporting Hillary Clinton, an assertion nearly as insulting as calling Winston Churchill a Stalinist.
  • He eats well-done steak, yet still had the nerve to set up a Trump Steaks® line. You might as well hire War Machine to guard a battered-women’s shelter.
  • Millions of people in the most powerful country on Earth like him personally. They cheer for him, pray for him, and admire him more than they’ve ever admired anyone they’ve voted for in their lives because they never checked the cover of The Art of the Deal and ran “Tony Schwartz” – a name equal in font size to Trump’s own on the cover! – through a search engine. Surely they could’ve devoted themselves to a more deserving politician? say, Strom Thurmond? or Sarah Palin? or Silvio Berlusconi?
    • Trump has never refuted anything Tony Schwartz said about writing The Art of the Deal by himself. He sued Timothy O’Brien for less damaging assertions. Why hasn’t he done the same for Schwartz when this information directly affects the sales of the book that made him a star?
  • Wrestlemanias IV and V had the deadest, shittiest crowds in the history of ’80s pro-wrestling. Because they were both hosted at Trump Plaza.
    • No offense to the wrestlers. They did the best they could with what they had.
  • He has access to the most powerful intercontinental-weapons system on Earth. A witch-doctress’ son in Office can’t cause much damage outside of Equatorial Guinea: the spoiled-cunt son of a Yankee real-estate mogul in Office will solve Global Warming with Nuclear Winter.
  • Speaking of “Yankee”: what the hell is the Stars-and-Bars crowd doing giving their undying support to a Goddamn New Yorker? Tens of millions of you down in Dixie were happy to vote for the cuntiest Yankee since Rudy Giuliani? You people are a disgrace to your ancestors.
  • His supporters – and a disturbing number of his opponents – think that supporting him needs be a permanent stance and a binary choice. It’s not. Nor was it ever in Our Country. Trump’s election in and of itself is proof that there’s no such thing as “electability”, nor “predictability”. The amount of violence and corruption it takes to truly render a country powerless unto their government is beyond anything that a country where judicial decisions are binding, and fiat is tinder built on sand, could ever experience without at least twenty years of sustained assault.
    • Every cunt who shouted “Flight 93 Election!” was wrong, no matter who they voted for.
  • The one skill I admit he has is his talent for: celebrity. In my opinion, Donald Trump has more talent for celebrity than anyone else in the World today; but being a celebrity has no bearing on any other talents, least of all the complexity of governing the World’s largest and most powerful liberal democracy. Celebrities include the illiterate, the addled, the insane, the felonious, child-beauty-pageant contestants, unwed teenage mothers, and children of real-estate moguls.
  • After his victory, The Federalist went from printing articles like “How Close Was Donald Trump to the Mob?”, to “Why Anthony Scaramucci Is The Man Trump and America Need”. Articles which, as the attentive reader’ll notice, come from the same author.
    • “Cuckery”, thy name is “Ben Domenech”. Crucified Christ, The Learning Channel took better care of their reputation.
  • Every time his yearslong friendship with Jeffrey Epstein is brought up, his supporters immediately assail you for approving of Bill Clinton’s Epstein connection; as if this is not only a binary choice, but one they themselves refute automatically by taking this position, since the doing of such does nothing refutes Trump/Epstein, nor does it show any concern for the alleged pimping of middle-school-age girls to America’s one-percenters ‘less a ‘D’ hangs next to their name on CNN.
  • The theater must always be a safe and special place. – Donald J. Trump, Sr.
  • Between his ties to Eduard Nektalov, David Bogatin, Dana Rohrabacher, and Felixs Komarov and Sater, he has the least-plausibly innocent relationships of any American celebrity since Michael Jackson decided to exclusively befriend male child-stars between the ages of eight and fourteen. These are not allegations of a tape with Russian prostitutes: these are provable associations going back nearly two generations, and the Democrats’ soft-balling on Russian corruption before it was politically convenient to oppose the Kremlin again doesn’t change the connections’ fundamental nastiness.

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None of the above will go away should Trump pump out a score worthy of nothing less than 111-D chess grandmastership. Plenty of unlikeable and evil people have high I.Q.s, and plenty of the decent and good have low I.Q.s. Nor am I among the fantasists who think I.Q. doesn’t actually measure intelligence; nor do I fail to recognize that I.Q. is most valuable as a group measure, but far less so individually.** The contest – if, by some dark miracle, it comes to fruition – is an embarrassment to God and Man already for having seriously been considered publicly by the sheriff of a nuclear standoff unequaled in seriousness since the most-recent Indo-Pakistani war.

I’d still take comfort in Trump winning with a Mensa-worthy score and backing all Republicans enthusiastically for the next ten years of my life, including Future-Senator Kid Rock. I’d be happy, because whatever the condition of his soul, it’d show Trump to be qualified and capable beyond my own summation of his talents, the talents of the hundreds of millions of Americans I and others are currently convinced could be picked from randomly and do a better job, and the summations from the tens of millions of Americans who openly and secretly think his intelligence subpar for a child schooled exclusively by Studytech, much less an adult from a first-world country destined from his father’s bank account to attend Our Nation’s best academe.

I don’t care about any insults I’d get from Gavin McInness, Daniel Harris, Stefan Molyneux, That-Canuck-Cuck who thinks he’s a pigeon, Julian Assange, or anyone else who’d wish to amuse themselves by tossing eggs at the face of Someguy, who wants a fanciful job like “independently-wealthy writer” in a country with 300,000,000+ writers and publishers.

I don’t care about the smug, obnoxious Yankee cocksucker the Southerners had the temerity to forgive – for once, amongst all others – gaining yet more bragging rights.

I don’t care if the Republicans exclusively pick candidates from ADX should Trump attain #InTRUMPigenceQuotient victory, just to see what they can get away with, and the Democrats respond by running only candidates from Guantanamo Bay.

I care about living in a country that’s better than I think it is, and having proof of such. It’s high time Our Nation remembered such a thought to be both possible, and sincere.

* Poor Melania’ll never forgive herself for taking the same deal Ivana got on child-naming rights. There’s no way she knew about John Barron before last year.

** Hi, Scott Alexander!

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O.R. Welles is a current writer and aspiring independently-wealthy writer. He learned long ago the whole thing is quite hopeless, so it’s no good worrying about tomorrow. It probably won’t come.

He also learned to be fine with that: the World is full of pleasure and enjoyment beyond count, all amount of it enjoyed previously shall ne’er lose value, and even those fighting for a right side are guaranteed to lose shall live better and happier than any whom take victory in the name of evil or stupidity shall e’er see.

#StopBetsy and #GamerGate

There’s a good chance someone made this connection before I did, but I’m confident I’m a better writer than they are.

There’s a headline that could go either way.

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There are many reasons for a human with a moral compass to despise the atrocious “Dear Colleague” letter of the overrated Obama years: the ghoulish civil-rights violations in the name of security for a crime epidemic; the two-faced neo-liberal strudel-hiders who completely disavow their credibility as advocates for criminal-justice reform because they couldn’t resist the chance to punish male sexuality — make no mistake, plenty of gay men get railroaded on this fiasco; the fact that the crime epidemic being used to justify the despicable overreach of Title IX just happens to be occurring during the largest decline of America’s crime rate in living memory, in what statistically has been the safest location for teens and twenty-somethings in all other respects to live for the last one-hundred years, and that the moment you opine the epidemic being a fantasy drawn from the same hysteria as the Satanic-abuse panic of the 80s, your accused of being a rape apologist. But worst of all, “Dear Colleague” has now forced me to stand up in favor of Betsy DeVos – and among other reasons, her support of federal dollars going to the teaching of creationism is still more than enough reason for me to hate the bitch for life no matter how much she needs support rolling back this unpardonable policy.

The recent #StopBetsy movement on Twitter could very well be the next #GamerGate in terms of whatever value a Twitter Hashtag possesses: a sexually-charged culture war between the left and right where the thrill of battle takes precedence over figuring out the truth. Like #GamerGate, I imagine left-wing cultural hegemony – damaged, though it may be – will pull far more people into standing up for what is otherwise obvious nonsense out of a sense of moral obligation to feminism, nevermind how the evisceration of civil rights to advance a proceeding that – best case scenario – doesn’t even end with actual rapists ever getting sent to prison has anything to do with advancing women’s rights to anything. Like #GamerGate, I imagine many alt-righters who gain attention from #StopBetsy will eventually poison the well by doing something similar to what Ethan Ralph, Davis M.J. Aurini, and Milo Yiannopoulos did to kill their careers (respectively: assaulting a police officer, blaming the Holocaust on the Soviet Union, and supporting their own childhood pederasty with a gay priest).

And, like #GamerGate, I also see how easy it would be for those on the left to flip the script if they chose to focus on different details in the same case. With #GamerGate, you have a first-generation son of immigrants from the chronically put-upon nation of Albania, repeatedly dismissed by the public as an abusive ex-boyfriend when he published screencaps on his WordPress site of his ex-girlfriend repeatedly admitting to cheating on him, and said screencaps have been confirmed real by the wife of the man said ex-girlfriend cheated on said Albanian with. It’s both a disbelief of a woman whose trust was abused by her husband, and the unfair dismissal of a man belonging to a historically-abused ethnicity. A reasonable person would never do this. Hatred of Albanians is more a Balkan or Arabian or Turkish prejudice than an American one, and the merits of Eron Gjoni’s claims against Zoë Quinn can be seen clearly enough by those looking at Chelsea Van Valkenberg’s record of failure in court and litigation towards her unfortunate former beau and her habitual hostility to reality (Quinn spent seven years pretending her brithdate was August 13th, just so she could say her birthday occasionally fell on Friday the 13th).

With #StopBetsy, you have a system which lowers protections against the accused in a country with the highest incarceration rate on the planet outside North Korea. A multi-ethnic country with drastically-deteriorating race relations and deeply disproportionate conviction rates for Black men (and Black women, for that matter), who also represent the highest portion of exonerations for sexual-assault in the entire country. Knowing these statistics, it’s easy to extrapolate; if Black men are more likely to be accused of crimes and later found innocent in actual trials, Black men will not see improvements when they lose the ability to cross-examine, 5th Amendment protection, protections from double-jeopardy, and the right to know what they’re being charged for – even without considering the statistics that show Blacks as disproportionately likely to be abused by the also hideous “Zero-Tolerance” policies in public schools wrought from post-Columbine hysteria, which itself happened during an era of declining school-shootings.

By both lean and robust standards of the term, “Dear Colleague” required institutional racism from America’s public universities. By their own standards, supporters of #StopBetsy are required to support racism, all for a proceeding that can’t even put an actual rapist in prison and a “one-in-five” statistic that’s clearly not even believed by its own promoters, or they’d’ve abolished co-ed schools altogether.

I have little hope DeVos dictum will mean what it should. She’s a widely disliked boss of a department in an incompetent and reviled administration. The hideous “Yes Means Yes” standard of consent shall remain the rule of the land in California, and the policy feeds just enough to the “Law and Order” psychopaths of red states to make friends among those who otherwise complain about feminism and political correctness. DeVos efforts could also very easily end up tanking due to the roving storm of incompetence, corruption, and disaster that swipes up all attached to the Drumpfstag – even if Mike Pence manages to survive 2020 with 270 intact.

But if there’s hope, it lies in the lawsuits. Every unjust expulsion, every abuse inflicted on the accused even when they’re lucky enough to be declared innocent at the end of the mess, not to mention the inevitable day when an actual rapist gets expelled but not imprisoned and goes on a Bundy-esque rampage that could’ve been nipped in the bud had the case gone to criminal court like all serious sexual-assault accusations should go at all times: all these create chances for lawsuits and lawsuits create payouts. Even places that charge four or five figures a month’ll grow sick of paying out the ass for a program that can only punish the innocent and let the guilty off with a slap on the wrist. No amount of SocJus screeching can save “Yes Means Yes” by then. The only question left is whether the length of time Americans allow this ridiculous panic’s continued infliction matches that of the Satanic Panic, or the ongoing War on Drugs – which still hasn’t managed to teach a moral lesson to the public consciousness in half a century.

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O.R. Welles is a current writer and aspiring independently-wealthy writer. He writes “never mind” as a compound word for the same reason he writes “be cause” as a compound word; and for this, spell-check can kiss his ass.

He would like to thank Twitter’s @notwokileaks for inspiring this article.

More White-Nationalists Should Hire Hookers

A meditation on angry male sexual frustration.

A practical solution to a longtime problem.

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There were many poetic elements to the recent national embarassment that was the Charlottesville Unite the Right rally. None moreso than the event’s geographical significance. But unlike many who see the event as a callback to the hideous racist past of Dixieland, what caught my eye — and what should catch the eye of far more — is the fact that the event took place in the stomping grounds of the most infamous angry, unemployable, virginal, basement-dweller-who-lives-with-his-parents fanfiction writer of the 21st Century: Christian Weston Chandler. Better known as Chris-Chan.

Possibly the most mocked man in Internet history (no small accomplishment in a world with Mao Xinyu, Shia LaBeouf, and Recep Tayyip Erdoğan), Chris-Chan has spent the entirety of his life running through a series of humiliations not even the combined cast of It’s Always Sunny in Philadelphia could top. Multiple sex tapes, none of which feature other human beings; a Sonic the Headgehog and Pokémon fanfiction comic bearing sub-elementary-schooler compositional quality — though the work’s violence and pornography would give away the age of the author even if he hadn’t made himself the main character; a bottomless naïvité not even the œuvre of Steve Carell has surpassed (the man drove eight-hundred miles from his home to rescue a Molvanîan woman from a kidnapping, after he was told Molvanîa was a fictional country): Chris Chandler is proof that no amount of imagination from Kenny Hotz or Andy Kaufman shall ever be enough to top the depths to which Reality can plummet on her own.

But of all C.W.C.’s achievements in failure, both before and after he became famous a decade ago, none shall surpass that of the Love Quest: a near generation-spanning effort by the C-villian against dying alone. Nearly every bad decision Chris-Chan has made since 2003 can be tied back to this disastrously-conceived undertaking against his sexual failures. He’s been banned from at least a half-dozen locations in the Charlottesville area for soliciting women with a poster-board sign, including his community college; he’s ruined every personal relationship with women he ever had by pestering them for sex; he took up crossdressing in 2011 solely to add lesbians to the list of women he can pester: all of it has been for nothing. The only progress he ever made was when he lost his virginity to a prostitute in April 2012 at the age of thirty.

For Chris, I only have one question: What took you so long?

For white-nationalists, I have an answer: Learn from Christian Weston Chandler’s example.

* * *

There have been countless jokes and observations made about the root problem with political psychopaths being sexual frustration. It’s the root of everything from the 12th’s popular Michael Rapaport video, to the plot of 1984, to the mono-testicular Hitler limerick, all the way to the countless jokes about the Houri in the Islamic Paradise. Tragically for Planet Earth, problems are more complicated than any amount of sex could solve; but there’s also a trend, mostly from third-wave feminists, to dismiss the very idea of sexual frustration as a motivation for human behavior as a product of the white-supremicist patriarchy. As seen in yesterday’s nonsensical article from Elle by Roqayah Chamseddine, written in response to the Rapaport video I just linked, in which the authress sincerely postulates even the very concept of virginity as a myth.

How in Hell anybody who’s ever had a conversation with a man could say something this ridiculous beggars belief. The fact that someone belonging to an ethnicity of the most sexually-dysfunctional region of Planet Earth today would think this shows that Feminism has detached itself from Reality to a degree surpassing that of Young-Earth Creationists.

It could very well be a cooincidence that Richard Spencer has a mail-order bride, that David Duke has been divorced since 1984, that Steve Bannon and Rush Limbaugh have three divorces each, and that the twice-divorced Donald Trump does not sleep in the same bedroom as his current wife Melania and both often reside in separate states. It could be chance that Elliot Rodger has been adopted as a posthumous alt-right butt-monkey, and that that alt-right ideology is the most popular political position among involuntary celebates — or “incels” for short (Good Christ, what a ridiculous term). There might be no pattern whatsoever to James Alex Fields Jr., Dylan Storm Roof, and Timothy McVeigh all being “confirmed bachelors” up to the date of their ghastly crimes. Brother Dean Saxton’s repeated boasting of his virginity — and no other accomplishments whatsoever — may have no relation to him spending years yelling at sexy co-eds being deserving of rape.
The same “maybe” as Casey Anthony’s searching for “fool-proof” suffocation methods on Google the last day her daughter was seen alive.

* * *

I will agree with Ms. Chamseddine on one point: no one should ever feel the need to pity-fuck anybody. There’s good reasons why all of the men I mentioned previously have their problems, and no woman should ever feel obligated to nanny some neurologically-dysfuctional pickle-polisher incapable of even quarter-ass effort at productivity.

Their answer is hookers.

Sure, in America, hookers are illegal. Sure, there are many who think hiring hookers would be immoral even where it’s legal. But even among those who believe the latter, of which I’m not at all aligned, the suggestion that taking an alternate route of soliciting randoes who will never show any interest beyond the pretend in groups among which Donald Trump counts in the number is downright dumb. How is it an improvement for someone to not break the law or a taboo when they turn themselves to a public nusiance at best in the process of legal and moral obedience? Why should the insipid lie of “there being someone for everyone” continue to be propogated in the face of such overwhelming evidence to the contrary? The personal, and often professional, growth it takes to make these losers presentable (much less desireable) is almost assuredly beyond their capability even if they had the willpower and the self-reflection to so much as get started.

There is no one for Steve Bannon! Nor Dylan Roof! There was, and will remain, no one for Christian Weston Chandler! But thanks to the magic of escort services, he found her anyway, and could find her again the moment he saves up $200.

Losing one’s virginity’s no panacæa. Nor are hookers. Anders Behring Breivik had sex with a few hookers before carrying out the worst massacre in Norway since World War II; and the social, economic, and political turmoil of the 21st Century transcends all easy solutions. They have yet to even fix Chris-Chan’s life, as the dozens of threads chronicling his failures made since 2012 on sites such as Kiwi Farms attest to. But if a time machine could be used to buy everyone who attended the Unite the Right rally an hour with an escort the month before it took place, I guarantee the rally would’ve been smaller.

Judging by the photos released of Christian Chandler’s fellow living-with-his-mom-er Fields, there would likely even be no loss of life.

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O.R. Welles is a current writer, and aspiring independently-wealthy writer. He can be found thanking a hooker named Maggie McNeill. Without her inspiration, this article would never have been written.

Joking About Donald Trump Having Sex With Men Isn’t Anti-Gay

I would like to thank Andrew Kahn for curing my writer’s block.

Humor can, does, and must, exist independent of socjus concerns.

* * *

Writer’s block is a funny thing. Not due to the difficulty of inspiration: most writers have far more worthwhile ideas they’ll do nothing with in a year than their total number of ideas good or bad they’ll have actually used in a lifetime. The funny part comes when you’ve been desperate to come up with something to write about that hasn’t already been exhausted in the recent collective consciousness of whatever sphere you consider your own; and, after getting halfway through a piece that just barely touches your standard of acceptability, you open up some recent material from whatever news source is most technologically convenient to access in your era, and inspiration strikes you so perfectly you toss out whatever crap you’ve been working on and pump out something you actually feel happy about with no effort or struggle beyond that of your usual writing routine.

For me, that happened when I opened Slate this afternoon to see a lament that people were making jokes about Donald Trump and Vladimir Putin having sexual intercourse because of America’s “weaponized bigotry.” In the words of the Slate editor who greenlit Andrew Kahn’s piece and clickbait-ified the title for publication, “our worst villains must be gay.”

Something happened to the World after the Mayan Apocalypse. In all previous years of history, the humor behind fat old men with terrible haircuts having sex with anyone never had to be qualified to check against bigotry. There are hundreds of millions of humans alive today, and billions from Mankind’s history, who were always comical creatures in sexual matters. There are examples for this across all sexes, races, and attractions that have existed or will exist; and to suggest merely because some among those number have been the victims of bigotry and persecution, these groups should be spared all jokes that could be interpreted as an attack on them personally is the kind of compassion only the deliberately stupid or sociopathically cynical could advocate.

This applies just as much to those belonging to oppressed groups in their lifetime as it does to people in the case of Trump and Putin who are merely being mocked via the suggestion that they’re among such folk. D.C. Mayor Marion Barry was caught on tape with a crack pipe and a crack whore. J. Edgar Hoover left his estate to Clyde Tolson, his “best friend” of nearly half a century, and the same man that draped the flag over the coffin at Hoover’s funeral. Michael Jackson, gay and black, launched a lifelong propaganda campaign to convince the world of his heterosexuality, culminating in 1994 when MTV broadcasted the least romantic kiss in the history of television at the Music Video Awards between Jackson and Lisa Marie Presley, his wife at the time wife. I’m sure there were and are plenty of David Dukes who laughed uproariously at all three of those developments. That still doesn’t make these examples any less humorous, nor the quest to purge the mind of unacceptable comedic reactions any less tantamount to crimestop.

Lastly, the greater sin of Kahn’s article is not anything I’ve already mentioned, nor even the insult to his readers intelligence at the end of the piece when he offers them his quarter-assed I don’t think most people who make jokes about Trump being gay are personally homophobic apology — itself immediately followed by Kahn’s I do sense something peculiar qualifier, like he was trying for weasle-word bingo in writing this article. The real damage that can and will be done when crying before hurting becomes both socially acceptable and an effective method of problem solving is that the least scrupulous among us will find problems in all places of any, or no, validity and will use this public consciousness shift to abuse as many people they dislike as they possibly can. They will do so unceasingly, and do so regardless of whether the problem they complain about is even something they actually oppose. In fact, as those who remembered the recent kerfuffle Stephen Colbert had with the F.C.C. for homophobic remarks towards a public servant would know, that’s exactly what President Donald Trump and his acolytes have already done.

Nevermind. It’s already too late.

* * *

O.R. Welles is a freelance writer of aspiring notoriety and financial compensation. He can be found nowhere particularly important, just the way he likes it.

Donald Trump’s Violent Demise Just Isn’t Funny Anymore

If only Nancy Pelosi would finally have a stroke.

Why it was much funnier before the election.

* * *

On September 23rd, 2015, Matt Stone and Trey Parker’s South Park aired what might very well be the meanest punchline ever broadcast on American television at the climax of the season 19 episode “Where My Country Gone?”. South Park Elementary teacher and noted sexual deviant Herbert Garrison, upon finally losing his patience with the massive influx of Canadian immigrants in his homeland, vows to invade America’s Northern Neighbor and personally fuck every last Canadian to death. His quest impeded by the unexpected construction of a Canadian Great Wall, Mr. Garrison decides his best option is to be catapulted over Niagra Falls from the New York side to the Ontario side so his quest of sexual genocide can begin.

It nearly kills him, but being a cartoon character, Garrison is able to survive the stunt, make his way to Ottowa wearing only a singlet, and reaches their capitol building to find Canada a wasteland: the population fleeing after electing a disastrously stupid and cruel unnamed man with terrible hair to lead the nation. Garrison finds the creature grooving to “The Safety Dance” flanked by only two security officials, neither of whom intervene as the two men start a wrestling match, even after Garrison gets the upper hand and removes his singlet. . . .

. . . Garrison keeps his word, and it was the funniest ending to any TV episode in history.

So what makes the recent Kathy Griffin and Johnny Depp shenanigans different? Why does “Where My Country Gone?” still hold up while the severed mannequin head died on the vine?

It certainly wasn’t the fact that Stone and Parker didn’t actually mention Donald Trump by name. Charles Foster Kane was a less obvious stand-in for William Randolph Hearst. Nor was it the acts obscenity. Griffin and Depp combined weren’t remotely as offensive as a man getting raped to death. Nor is it the prestige of the Office of Presidency. Donald Trump was born a smug, stupid, Yankee choad who will die a smug, stupid, Yankee choad; and will remain as such every moment of his unwanted life in between those points. No position of any kind is prestigious enough to bring value to such a worthless occupant. If a man like Donald Trump were revealed to be the Messiah; all members of the World’s Abrahamic faiths would become Dharmists or Communists.

No. The difference between even as short a timespan as 2015 and 2017 is, even with the meanest mockery of any political candidate by both the U.S. mainstream media and the average American citizen, Donald J. Trump still got what he wanted and those who had a meaningful chance at preventing otherwise made all the wrong moves to stop him, when they bothered trying at all. There’s room for neither joy nor heroics when those who stand up to the evil and stupid are dishonest and cruel the whole way to the battle only to belly-flop their way to failure upon meeting their adversary.

The mainstream media of the United States, for all the remarkably brutal jokes they’ve made at Trump’s expense before and after 2016, always gave him a free platform worth untold millions with their coverage of him because Trump was a celebrity who drew good ratings in places viewers otherwise ignored. All unscripted. All cheap. Only once he’d completely destroyed all opposition to him running next to an ‘R’ rather than a ‘D’ was his persona actually looked at critically by the likes of CNN’s detestable president and longtime Trump suck-up Jeff Zucker. Only once he threatened her political ambitions did Hillary Clinton call out the detestable past racist actions of the man whose third wedding she attended with a smile.

The average American, even those who know Donald Trump deserves every insult ever thrown at him, also knows the 2016 Election and the media disaster surrounding it was never about standing up to the evil and powerful. Donald Trump could’ve been eviscerated and marginalized long before his famous escalator ride if the media did their jobs properly from the beginning rather than fatten themselves off advertising revenue and increased subscriptions from Trump’s three-ring circus. The mainstream media in America hates Donald Trump because they couldn’t stop him from gaining power the one time they actually tried to fight against him rather than for him.

The Secret Service puts an eye out on anybody who jokes about killing the President regardless of the President or the threatener’s individual morality. As they should. The preservation of institutional and democratic norms in countries that actually have institutions worth preserving is more important than the consequences of a terrible leader who still has to live with meaningful checks and balances. Americans have multiple mechanisms to dispose of bad officials both before and after they become a problem, but those who could’ve meaningfully helped to stop this fiasco before it happened have no right to act like members of the Rebel Army when they were to incompetent to perform their civic duties for at least a generation. This is a temper tantrum, and those throwing it are getting exactly what they deserve.

Pity instead the rest of Humanity, who suffers at their side.