Monday, December 12, 2016

Everything Wrong With This Vapid Social Justice "Christmas Card"

An alert reader sent me some potent blog fuel this morning: the above screenshot of a female blogger's valiant attempt to make me puke coffee into my mouth.

Whitney Roberts Logan's "About" section on Facebook simply reads, "I have no idea what I'm doing." I have a strong suspicion this is the only thing about which Whitney and I will agree.

In case your eyeballs exploded when you saw the screenshot, let me recreate it for you.

Here is a beautiful photograph of a gorgeous white family enjoying the holiday: an attractive young woman with her husband and adorable child. From the perspective, it looks like Dad is taking this photo selfie-style, but whoever took it, they left plenty of negative space for their "positive" messaging.

Across this negative space -- and partially covering their daughter's head (VISUAL IRONY!) -- is the message:


Maybe in her zeal to virtue-signal and take a big political shit all over everybody's holiday, Whitney forgot to think through this comparison thoroughly and said something apocalyptically stupid on accident. But she seems committed to it. She even tripled down by sharing the post three times -- on her personal Facebook, her writer page, and on Pantsuit Nation, a Hillary-inspired page for touchy-feely feministing.

But maybe I'm being too tough on her. Maybe Whitney is just what she is claiming to be -- a way better Christian than I am. Maybe she knows the Bible better than I do. I mean, she has a blog called Healing My Religion! Surely if she can heal that shit, she knows a lot about it.

See, I'm not a Bible scholar, so I must have missed the part where Jesus and 100,000 other Jesuses went to the United States and got on welfare.

In what chapter of which book did Jesus participate in the mass sexual assault of German women in Cologne? Was Jesus one of the gang of migrants who assaulted young women at a music festival? Is that why the authorities conspired in a coverup of this horror? To protect Jesus?

How many people did Jesus kill in Paris? Shoot in Orlando? Stab in Ohio?

Even if we assume for the sake of argument that Jesus was in some way "a Middle Eastern refugee," we are willfully ignoring the fact that current Middle Eastern refugees are not Jesus.

For a Christian, Whitney Roberts Logan thinks little of Christians. She is assuming that Christians are upset because refugees flooded Europe and the U.S. preaching the Gospel, turning the other cheek, and building shit out of wood.

Middle Eastern "refugees" are a hodgepodge of relatively benign economic migrants, less benign ideological invaders, criminals, and terrorists. They are collapsing a welfare system they are not paying into and which was designed for citizens. They are creating enclaves of chaos into which native police will not go. They are bringing socially regressive attitudes about women with them. They want to criminalize homosexuality - yes, even European Muslims.

Point to the parts of the Bible where Jesus does any of that, please. I think I missed that bit of the New Testament where Jesus honor-kills Mary Magdalene and throws fags in jail.

This is the first and probably last time I'll ever use this term, but Whitney needs to check her privilege. This Western woman gets to move about safely in her pristine suburb in the U.S. and judge other people for having a problem with refugees, all in the name of Christianity.

Last week I published a post about illegal immigrants taking over my neighborhood, and some commented that Mexican culture is American culture because that's what a "melting pot" means, and if I don't like it I should move. Many  -- perhaps all -- of the people who said that to me live in majority-white neighborhoods. How about we switch places, since you like it so much here? Tell me how American it feels to get woken up by accordion music and roosters.

Meanwhile, Whitney can go hang out in a Muslim ghetto in Germany or Belgium or France or Sweden. She can walk around in Western clothes and see how long it takes for "Jesus" to rape her. Better yet, invite some "refugees" to move into your house, Whitney! I'm sure they would find a way to work around your beta male husband.

Whitney, it is mean, un-Christian assholes like me who actually care what happens to you and your daughter and even Sweater Boy. I may be crude, I may not say sweet, lovey-dovey things, but I actually give a shit whether nice families like yours get raped to death. I actually care about the women who are being terrorized across Europe because their political leaders decided to import voters. Oh, sorry, I meant "decided to be good Christians."

On your Facebook page you bravely claim to be "unpopular" while posting vapid, feelings-based horseshit like this un-Christian, anti-Western, ethnomasochistic "Christmas" card.

The casualties of "being nice" are piling up around people like you, and you're too busy sipping a pumpkin spice latte with your bestie to smell the bodies. David Mamet said, "Kindness to the wicked is cruelty to the righteous." Do you not get that when you are nice to bad people, good people get hurt? Your childish insistence on boiling the entire complicated, dangerous issue of Islamic mass migration down to "be nice like Jesus" is proof that you are in over your head and need to go sit down and color while the adults figure shit out.

Thousands upon thousands upon thousands of Western men throughout history have died fighting people like the ones we are now inviting into our countries by the hordes. They fought to preserve the Christianity you are now polluting with your vapid platitudes. They fought to create and preserve the West, the culture that created you, the society that gave birth to your freedom and privilege and comfort, all so that you can sit safely inside it and judge the people who want to preserve it, say we are not real Christians, intimate that we don't know Jesus like you do.

Any other time of year, I might say something like, "Fuck you, Whitney." But it's Christmastime, so I'm not going to be a judgy bitch like you. Instead I'm going to say, "Merry Christmas."

 You should try it next time.

Wednesday, December 7, 2016

Fat Shaming Worked for Me

In 2008, I got dumped.


It was sudden and devastating, and I didn't know what to do. So I moved back in with my mom and ate pizza on the sofa for six months.

A few months in, I started to notice some next-level fatness on myself. I had never been thin, but I was transforming from borderline-plus-size to “My 600 Pound Life.”

Around the same time, I was introduced to the music of The Gossip, whose lead singer was a spherical young woman with an incredible voice by the name of Beth Ditto. I googled her because I liked the music, and discovered she was into something called fat acceptance.

Beth Ditto was all over SPIN and Rolling Stone, wearing tiny bodysuits that emphasized her rolls of white, doughy fat. She was even naked on the cover of some magazine. Celebrities like Keira Knightley who wanted to assuage their “thin privilege” guilt lauded her as stunning and brave. Fans referred to her as beautiful, sexy, and gorgeous. Although my instinct was to be mildly repulsed and alarmed for her health, I suppressed this, and decided to be like, “You go, girlfriend!”

You go to the hospital, girlfriend!

I was still a progressive at this time, so I was really good at repressing reason and relying on feelings. I wanted to feel good about fatness because it was beginning to cover my body. So I doubled down, proclaimed myself proudly fat, read “body positivity” blogs, and ate more pizza.

Before long I noticed that I felt uncomfortable all the time. Pictures of myself made me avert my eyes. The only clothing I could wear without restricting my breathing was leggings. Dudes stopped hitting on me completely. I got winded from walking up half a flight of stairs.

I had joined a roller derby league and my out-of-control body was never more evident than when I tried to move it around on wheels. I was slow. Everything hurt. I huffed and puffed through each lap, feeling like a prisoner in my own flesh.

I had to include this photo because oh my God.

I've often heard the argument that "if fat shaming worked, there would be no fat people." I don't think that's accurate. Most adults are too polite to fat shame people to their faces. The shame might have to come from inside you. The only time I recall someone shaming me to my face – sort of – was one day when I was driving to work while eating chicken strips from Jack in the Box. I was operating my motor vehicle with one hand while eating a ranch-dressing-dipped chunk of fried chicken with the other. I was wearing a faux fur black coat, black cat eye glasses, and red lipstick, with a long blonde ponytail. (I said I was fat, I never said I wasn't fabulous.)

I was simultaneously pulling away from a red light and shoving chicken in my face when a truck full of blue-collar dudes pulled up beside me. The driver saw me and went “YYYYEAH!” with a loud roar of laughter while punching his buddies to look over at me. I looked away and executed a greasy one-handed turn before I could see the other guys' reactions.

This was bad, but it wasn't bad enough to make me change my behavior.

Then one day I broke a chair.

Marilyn was not fat. She was 5'5” and according to biographers fluctuated between 115 and 145 lbs. A size 12 then was not the same as a size 12 now. I bust chairs AND myths!

Granted, it was kind of a rickety chair that was already known to have one gimp leg, so it sort of leaned to one side. But no one else had ever flat-out broken it before.

Only my family saw it happen, so I didn't get laughed at. But it was embarrassing for me and everyone else. I felt incomparably sad. That night I got on the scale.

I'm not going to tell you the number, but it was bad. It was very bad. 

"Fuck you, number."

The next week I stopped eating carbs and lost 70 pounds in ten months. Then I met my husband and got married.

Over the past four years since my marriage my weight has fluctuated predictably (when I eat carbs, it goes up) but for the past year or so, I am once again lowkey plus-sized (and shrinking), I feel healthy and good, I think I look alright, and my husband is into this shizzz. 

There was a brief period in the first year of marriage when I got into body positivity again. Looking back, it's obvious why: I was gaining weight. This often happens to women right after they get married, when they are relieved of the stress of wedding planning and suddenly realize that not only do (a) cupcakes exist, but (b) it would be highly inconvenient and expensive for their husband to leave them.

I started writing long, weepy posts about all the people - from my mom to SOCIETY - I could blame for my fatness, my low self-esteem, and whatever else was making my life suck.

That's what these "fat acceptance" activists are doing. They're looking for a way to feel good about themselves when their every instinct says they shouldn't. It's much easier to sit down and blog about body image than it is to lose weight.

The inconvenient truth is that I would not be, at this moment, of statistically average size and married to a human man if weren't for one thing:


It was shame that made me get on the scale, shame that made me cry at the number, shame that motivated me every day of that first life-changing ten months, shame that motivates me today. Shame drives my indomitable will when I want to eat a carb.

I have more will power than anyone I know. I have it because, once upon a time, I broke a chair, stepped on a scale, and reached the pinnacle of shame.

It wasn't self-love that got my ass off the couch. It wasn't a desire to be healthy that made me put down the pizza. It was shame.

Calling someone fat to her face is, in most circumstances, cruel and terrible, but if that does happen to you, instead of whining about it you should make lemonade out of that bitch and thank God for your wake-up call. It may be what you need to make a U-turn before you get to a chair-shattering level of fatness.

Obesity is a disease. And you know what – it may not be entirely your fault. Obesity is the result of a combo platter of genetics and choices. I was dealt a shit hand genetically, raised to eat poor-people food, and had to figure out for myself what to do about it. Because no matter why it is you're fat, the fact of your fatness is your responsibility. The abortos like to say "My body, my choice." The difference is, in this case, that statement is accurate.

For some of us, it requires Herculean feats of will power and constant, ongoing sacrifice to keep weight off. But you have to decide whether you're going to accept that or keep carb-loading your way to an early death.

Shame hurts. So does being fat. So does dying young.

If you're ready to Stop Being Fat, I highly recommend Zero Carb Health. I have tried every known human diet, and it's the one that works for me.

Tuesday, December 6, 2016

The Real War on Women is Feminism

It's time for women to repeal and replace feminism.

Feminists today are professional victims, the mutated offspring of a movement that, ironically, began with women denouncing victimhood. What we now call feminism bears little resemblance to the first wave: the women who fought for suffrage, property rights, access to education, and legal protection from domestic abuse.

Almost everything modern feminists claim is a lie. There is no wage gap. If there is a patriarchy, it is nowhere near as powerful as the PC elite of which feminists are a crucial component. The statistics feminists quote about rape culture are insane and false. The real rape culture is the third world, which the West is rapidly importing so leftist politicians can have votes and the clueless public can have good feels – right up until they get beheaded.

Faux-minism's number one contribution to our culture is “reproductive rights.” It's confusing, because everything male is supposed to be #theworst, but these chicks will go to great lengths to make feminism the antithesis of femininity, including accepting the male body as normative by denying the fact of their wombs. Feminism means we are expected to pump ourselves full of chemicals and pay butchers to suck our children out of us so we can pursue our rewarding careers as freelance graphic artists and avoid the gross grossness of motherhood.

"Damn, I miss my cubicle."

Meanwhile, feminists insist on the vilification of the mean straight dudes who actually want marriage and children. They are the evil patriarchy. The faux-minist, because she is a retard, would rather be in an eleven-year semi-committed relationship with a DJ whose stage name is a pun about kale, until he dumps her for a 24-year-old with Zooey Deschanel bangs and a tattoo of a cupcake. By this time the faux-minist is 39 and her ovaries are turning to dust and she's been on birth control for so long that if she stops taking it her uterus will drop out of her like a rusty transmission.

This is porn for hipsters.

Abortion is not for women. It makes women sad and sometimes hurts or kills them. Abortion is the douchebag's best friend. It lets him use women for sex and leave them with the consequences.

The one thing feminists are right about is porn culture. Unfortunately, feminists are at least partly the cause. About half of them are shrieking viragos who make 2D vaginas seem like an improvement. The other half are “sex positive” and can't wait to objectify their own stupid selves. (See celebminists like Katy Perry, Beyonce, and Miley Cyrus.)

The answer to porn culture isn't censorship. It is self-awareness and personal responsibility. Ladies, you feel like shit when you read Cosmo because the first 60 pages show what you'll never look like and the rest shows you how you can make up the difference with eyeshadow and blowjobs. Stop reading it.

Many feminists are now welcoming transgender people into the fold (gross) of womanhood and insisting all women do so. A man who wants to hack off his wang because of a mental disorder will never be a woman. He needs help accepting the biological fact of his gender, not exploitation by Commies and an unethical surgeon who will take his money, deform his genitals, and make him twenty times more likely to kill himself.

A while back, I called out Milo Yiannopoulos for writing an article on Breitbart in which he warned women that they were going to be replaced by sex robots who look like Jessica Alba. I thought he was just hating on ladies, but I was wrong. Since then, I've heard him praise the common-sense equity feminism of great women like Christina Hoff Sommers. He exposes faux-minists for what they are: the psychotic endgame of Communist cultural infiltration. Milo's point is if women don't stop telling men they're everything that's wrong with the world, those men are going to turn to Jessica Alba's blessed silence and rubbery vagina.

*nags silently*
Feminists are making things worse between men and women, for the same reason Black Lives Matter only worsens bigotry against blacks. (Note to humans: if you want people to accept your movement, don't call them names and set their shit on fire.)

Some men are terrible; most men are not. They fight wars so we don't have to wear burqas. Their work is more dangerous and their hours are longer – hence the mythical “wage gap.” This may shock you, but women don't apply for jobs that require them to wear orange vests and operate jackhammers on the freeway. I know several feminists who are supported by daddies, either their fathers while they go to college and learn to hate him, or their husbands who work while they stay home. If that is the patriarchy, women are enjoying it. Women might even need it.

In the movie Office Space, an IT guy with the unfortunate name of Michael Bolton is asked, “Why don't you just change your name?” He replies, “Why should I be the one to change it? He's the one who sucks.”

Why should we give the word feminist to women who have made it synonymous with baby-killing, man-hating, and victimhood? They're the ones who suck.

Instead of being an anti-feminist, be a dissident-feminist. Much of the world could really use some old-fashioned first-wave equity feminism. As dissident-feminists, we should fight the true common enemies of women: the real rape culture of the third world, the real misogyny of abortion, the real patriarchy of political correctness, and the real war on women perpetrated by feminists themselves.

Saturday, December 3, 2016

Today, on "Literally Hitler"

Yesterday the Internet coughed me up this gem:

This reminds me: a few days after the election, there were still some people on campus being quietly butt-hurt. The university I attend is nothing like Berkeley or Brandeis or even UT Austin. This is a suburban commuter school in Dallas, comprised of 60% Asian immigrants majoring in computer science or engineering and studying 17 hours a day. They don't have time for social justice because either they or their parents were smuggled into the country up an elephant's ass. So there were no protests. I doubt most of them even noticed there was an election.

But I'm one of the few, the proud, the destined to be poor: the Humanities majors. This is where all the butt-hurt white people congregate. So I'm in class, someone in casual banter mentions "The Wall" and I mumble something like:

"It worked in Israel."

And some chick says, very snarkily, "It worked in Germany, too."

Damn, girl. Gonna give me some aloe for that burn?

At that moment the professor began speaking, and I NEVER speak when the professor speaks because only dicks do that.

But here is what I wanted to say:

"Hmmm... that's an interesting analogy, because it's terrible. The Berlin Wall kept CITIZENS IN, not ILLEGAL IMMIGRANTS OUT. Basically the only thing these two things have in common is they are both walls. In every other way they are totally opposite from each other. How dreadful it must be to have to face the world every day with your insufficient brain."

But it's obvious where the poor girl was getting her bad information: tha Internetz. Look at this stupid picture.

First of all, the Nazis. Did the Nazis build a wall? Am I that dumb about history? Let me google that shit.

Oh my God, there WAS A NAZI WALL! It was called the Atlantic Wall and Hitler drafted French people (in your face, France!) to build it in 1942. It was a fortification for defense during wartime and the Allies destroyed it in like two hours. (USA! USA!) So this had nothing to do with immigration and, once again, the only thing the walls have in common is they are walls.

Communist East Germany built the Berlin Wall in 1961. They restricted the movement of East Germans and would shoot anyone who tried to escape. Maybe I missed this speech -- like I missed all his racist, misogynist, homophobic speeches -- but I have personally never heard Donald Trump suggest that U.S. citizens attempting to go to Mexico are to be shot. Please correct me if I'm wrong.

Why is the wall a good idea for America? For the same reason it's a good idea for Israel. We are importing terrorists.

Actually, we are importing pretty much the entire third world, handing them welfare, and pretending like the crimes they commit are not happening. For more on illegal immigrants, welfare, and crime, see Ann Coulter's incredible book, Adios America!

For now I would like to talk about culture.

The neighborhood I live in is basically Mexico. I'm not trying to argue that Mexico is inherently bad. I am trying to argue that I would like to live in America, please.

Here is the paradox of multiculturalism: all cultures are supposedly equal, right? None is better than the other. If this is true, why is their culture so beautiful and valid that they get to take it with them wherever they go, and mine is such pure shit that I'm not even allowed to have it right here where it was born and flourished?

If multiculturalism is the answer, how do we decide which culture wins? Aren't we supposed to hate Anglos for obliterating Native American culture with their own? And if so, why is it fine when Mexico does it to us?

I know the idea is a "melting pot," but some cultures are incompatible. For example, my culture does not celebrate the weekend by drinking beer in the front yard with no shirt on while listening to the car stereo turned up to full blast. In my culture, I have to go to bed at eleven p.m. on a Friday because I work at eight a.m. on Saturday, but I can't sleep because my walls are shaking from accordion music.

Sometimes I wake up at four a.m. because a rooster is crowing. I live half a mile from the downtown square of an affluent suburb, and I get woken up by roosters.

Most of my neighbors are illegal immigrants. I see them going in and out of the immigration lawyer's office, which is three doors down from me. Most of the businesses on my street have Spanish signage. You can't go faster than 25 miles per hour, because that is the fastest that Mexicans can drive. I don't know why this is. Does anyone know? It's a mystery.

My culture is in English. My culture drives at least five miles over the speed limit, listens to music inside the house, and does not rooster within city limits. My culture also does not litter like it's the Hot New Thing. Central and South Americans litter their asses off. Look it up. It's a huge problem there, and illegal immigrant litterbugs are destroying our National Parks with garbage, when they are not setting them on fire.

There is so much littering on my street that trash blows into my yard. Nothing says America like finding someone else's Pollo Regio wrapper on your front porch.

I fully understand that everything I just said is evil xenophobic hate speech. But I would like to know why. If all cultures are created equal, why is their culture so beautiful and important that it gets to overlap mine?

Is American culture only for the rich now? I thought elitism was wrong and bad. Does the fact that I am poor mean I am not allowed to live in America?

Friday, December 2, 2016

Why I Didn't Vote in 2016, and Why I Regret It

When I found out Donald Trump and Hillary Clinton would be the presidential nominees, I quit the Internet. I don't just mean social media. I mean everything.

In the year preceding this decision, I was immersed in the young, up-and-coming, secular prolife movement. We were getting unprecedented media attention, which is a good thing. But many of these millennial-led groups are starting to resemble SJW organizations to an alarming extent.

I thought I was inoculated against progressive thought. Being raised in public schools and missing a father for most of my childhood, I grew up a default liberal. Finally living on my own in my twenties – no family, no roommates – made me rethink my leftist leanings. Watching Pelosi, et al., ram through Obamacare made me question the loving benevolence of Obama's Democrat party. Reading, thinking, and conversing made me -- eventually -- reevaluate and change my beliefs. 

My road out of Commie pinko territory was long and hard. I lost friends, opportunities, and maybe even a few arguments. I thought I was on guard against the kind of lazy thinking that made me a useful idiot well into my twenties.

But I started, very subtly, to drift left again. It happened so gradually I didn't realize it was happening. I thought I was just becoming more “libertarian.”

Maybe immigration isn't so bad. Maybe the Pope isn't totally full of shit. Maybe there is a reason to feel compassion for the Syrian refugees. Maybe we do sort of live in a rape culture. Sure, I can buy the idea of a patriarchy. I see man-spreading all the time. 

I despised Trump. I also knew nothing about him. In a shameful reprisal of my mid-twenties idiocy, I formed an opinion about a candidate without doing a shred of research. I noticed he traded up for a younger, hotter wife every couple decades; said crude and loutish things; maybe grabbed a pussy. This was all the information I had when I decided he was dead to me.

Though I was dumb enough to drop out of political discourse for the most important election in American history (yes, I believe this), I was at least smart enough to know I was dumb. I had made myself a low-information voter, and those people should not vote. So I didn't vote.

The morning after the election, I woke from a nightmare that Clinton had been elected. I took a deep breath and, after many months, I un-quit the Internet. Drudge Report was my first visit, and the headline read: “LET THE PEOPLE RULE,” under a photo of the new president-elect, Donald Trump. I was so relieved I almost cried. 

The truth is in us somewhere, even when it's so inconvenient that we do our best to shut it out.

For the next few weeks I made up for lost time, devouring every story on the professional malcontents shouting in the streets, setting their own cities on fire in their dumb, impotent rage against the machine that betrayed them. I watched them deface the statue of Joan of Arc in New Orleans and scrawl DIE WHITES DIE across a marble facade in Jackson Square. I watched a #feministwarriorgoddess take a crap in the street so she could smear it on a Trump sign. I watched, in short, the death throes of the monster Hillary failed to muster.

I went to campus and heard my professors refer to the “shocking” results either coyly or openly – as in one literature prof, a recent transplant from Massachusetts, who said we were headed for “Trumpsylvania.” I heard students having breathless conversations about the racism, xenophobia, homophobia, transphobia, Islamophobia, and bigotry of Trump supporters. In a school where whites are the minority, and Asians – especially Indians – the majority, the only people I heard bitching were whites.

The president of the college sent an email to every student in which he lamented an increase in “acts of intolerance” and pledged his commitment to diversity on campus. I replied telling him the only intolerant acts I was aware of were biased statements about Trump supporters made by professors and students. Nevertheless, I told him, I support their right to speak freely, as we should support that right for everyone. I'm still waiting for a response.

I saw people on YouTube tearfully promising to defend minorities and gays from... something? I'm still not sure what. Apparently there was a Trump speech we all missed where he promised to put queers in death camps and burn all brown people alive. Or maybe it's Trump supporters that are the violent menace? Weird, because it seems like the anti-Trumpers are always the ones starting shit.

When a lone asshole stood up on a plane and made people listen to his dumb pro-Trump diatribe, it was everywhere, picked up by several major news outlets. Funny, I was not inundated with stories on the dozens upon dozens – maybe hundreds – of instances in which Trump supporters were harassed, attacked, beaten, threatened, and stolen from. And these were not lone assholes. Almost without exception, those doing the violence were mobs, because that is how these people operate. Progressivism is by nature a mob mentality, and we live in a time when mob violence is seen as an appropriate response to conservative ideas. 

My, what a cogent argument you have.

The past few weeks have opened my eyes. And while I enjoyed my time off social media, I almost regret disengaging – almost. It needed to happen. I needed a palate cleanser so that I could really taste the hate.

My one regret is that I didn't discover, when it really mattered, the power and the glory of Donald Trump. The first thing I did when I discovered he would be our new president was start watching his speeches. The Internet was screaming that at me that he was the worst person on earth. I went on a quest to find his racist, misogynist, bigoted statements, and I began with Ann Coulter's recommendation – I do everything Ann Coulter tells me to do, and so should you – to read the transcript of his speech after the mass murder of gay Americans by an Islamic terrorist in Orlando. I sat on campus in a patch of sunlight behind a tree with tears streaming down my face. Here, finally, was a presidential candidate with the balls to call Islamic terrorism by name. He said – just as he said when he accepted the party's nomination – that he would defend LGBTQ people from this existential threat.

That is America, for those of you who forgot. Having nothing to do with someone's particular choice, and being committed with all your heart and soul to defending it. I remember this from my childhood in the Reagan years. It was a very popular sentiment: "I may not agree with what you say, but I'll fight for your right to say it." That is quintessential Americanism -- or it was. Another popular motto we were taught as children was: "Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me." Today, we are told, "I may not agree with what you say, so stop saying it immediately or I will have you banned/run to a safe space/riot in the streets." We are also told, "Sticks and stones may break my bones but words I disagree with are hate speech that literally harms me."

Of course, the LGBTQ community rejected Trump in large numbers, because kids hate their dads. This is why most of young America rejected Trump. He is your lame old dad who plays golf and has dinner with men in suits and says embarrassing shit in front of your friends and is so GROSS. When Donald Trump became the first and only political candidate to boldly, unequivocally say he was going to protect them from the only true menace facing gays in America, gays said, “Eww.” And turned away.

It doesn't matter to Trump. He is your dad. He doesn't need you to like him. He is going to protect you anyway, because that's his job. And while you bitch and moan and wear safety pins and have cringe-fests about all the imaginary white frat boys lurking around every corner to beat you with baseball bats, he will be busy saving your dumb gay lives from the actual enemies you refuse to acknowledge because you have been indoctrinated by the PC movement to prefer being tolerant to being alive. You are probably too stupid to ever notice what Trump will do for you, let alone thank him. But he will do it, anyway, and you won't even get him an ugly tie on Father's Day.

It's the same for women. Women rejected Trump because he grabbed a pussy. Ladies, allow me to let you in on a little secret: if we get rid of the lust of Western men, we are going to be very sorry. A culture in which men violently suppress their lust is Saudi Arabia. Western men still know how to worship women. They think you're beautiful. Sometimes it comes out a little rough. Learn to overlook it, because the patriarchy is your friend.

Most of you feminists already know this, deep down in your black little hearts. Most of you spend all your time bitching on Facebook in a dwelling paid for by a dude. Most of you are going to college on some dude's dime – usually Daddy's – and being taught by your feminist professors to hate said Daddy. (If you don't have a Daddy, you are probably relying on the government, the Ultimate Daddy.) Meanwhile, the very fact that you can attend a university safely, walk around in short shorts drinking Frappucinos without a care in the world, is because while you're doing that, Evil Mean Straight White Dudes are fighting the actual bad guys. If you're glad you don't have to wear a burqa on pain of death, thank the patriarchy.

(Please don't say women aren't safe on campus. They are. Campus rape culture is a myth.)

Modern feminism, for all its “sex positivity,” is the new Puritanism. Have you ever heard of anything less sexy than “affirmative consent?” Now, on campus, all sex is rape unless it begins with a “sober verbal yes.” Only an ideology as cynical as feminism could suck all the mystery out of sex. Nothing kills libido like explicit permission. The best sex is a little bit dangerous, and if you don't agree, you're either lying or you've never had good sex.

Go back and read the transcript of Trump's “grab 'em by the pussy” statement. In the sentence before he says that, he says this:

“They let you do it.”

That, my friends, is called consent.

Since Trump was elected, every time some pretentious twat has said, “I want women/minorities/gays to know they are safe with me,” a demon has gotten its horns. This type of melodramatic virtue-signaling is what has made half of America an insufferable PC shithole.

I didn't grow up in this America. Even up until about 2006, I was allowed to make fun of black people, trannies, fags, Mexicans, and white trash in my sketch comedy. Now only one of those is allowed. (Guess which one?!) Words like “racist” and “bigot” have been emptied of their meaning. Those words used to be reserved for actual hate. Now they get thrown at you for just about anything. It is now racist to touch a black person's hair. I thought that was just rude. It is racist to makes comedy that points out that races are different – unless of course you are not white, in which case it is fine.

That's me on your left, in a sketch called Black Ghost Hunters. It is hilarious.

The good news is, of course, the Law of Diminishing Returns. They've used these terms too many times, and now they mean nothing. They have cried wolf. You don't have to be scared or ashamed anymore when someone hurls “racist” at you. In fact, smile to yourself, and know they have lost the argument.

You may be worried less about losing an argument, and more about losing your job or friends or social status. This is a legitimate concern. Everyone has heard a story about someone getting turned over to the thought police for expressing a dangerous opinion, resulting in getting sacked, dumped, ostracized, or ridiculed. The only way to end this madness is for each one of us to ignore the threat and exercise our right to free speech. We have to be balls-out for the First Amendment at all times.

And this is the part where I call out to right-wingers of all stripes. I want you to start using comedy in the fight to take back our culture and thereby make America great again. One thing I haven't heard discussed yet about Trump's “inexplicable” victory is the fact that he's funny. This is YUGE, and we should recognize it. Sometimes his jokes came across as lame or rude, but sometimes his timing was spot-on. When was the last time a presidential candidate made you laugh? Made you feel good? Made you feel like you were in the presence of a real man, warts and all -- not just a party line in a suit?

In the past year-and-a-half – which I am just now catching up on, unfortunately – the right wing has been made over by Trump and his supporters. There are the regular folks from flyover country, God bless 'em, and then there are the trolls. I don't just mean 4chan and the dreaded alt-right. I also mean cultural infiltrators like Milo Yiannapoulos, Gavin McInnes, and of course the Emperor-Goddess of Light, Ann Coulter. These people are not just wicked smart, they are funny. They are subversive. They don't toe the party line. They say the shit no one else has the balls to say. And they do it with style. 


That is why I am declaring 2017 the Year of the Troll. 

But, you might be saying, wasn't that 2016? Isn't it over? My friends, it is just beginning.

There will be a backlash, and it won't be pretty. In academia, the media, major cities, and everywhere the elite congregate, these denizens of the Bubble will double down. Not only do they not get you, they don't want to. There has been no sincere effort to understand who you are and why you elected The D, and there will be none. Their New York Times-driven hive-brain is telling them you are a stupid backwoods rube with no conscience who must be defeated for your own good.

Look at the pathetic antics of Jill Stein. Look at the haters harumphing over Trump's two pre-inaugural victories: keeping both Ford and Carrier from leaving the country. Look how they scoff at the idea of building a wall. (Trump's best idea thus far, and the #1 reason he was elected.) There will be pushback against every move, political and cultural, toward repairing and renewing America. We have to be prepared to combat it, not with earnest Cruzian evangelizing and Facebook posts featuring bald eagles and waving flags and Bible verses, but with humor. Dissidence. Mischief. Trolling.

Don't bother trying to shout them down. Mock them. Use satire. Ridicule them. Parody them. Hold up a mirror to their ridiculousness, their melodrama, ignorance, and hypocrisy. Have we learned nothing from the enemy? Stewart and Colbert played a huge role in getting Obama elected. They made him cool by flippantly mocking his opponents.

Come to think of it: have we learned nothing from our own side? Internet trolls helped fuel the countercultural swell that elected Trump.

The leftists are the new Puritans. They are the sniveling, humorless losers. They are the ones with long lists of thou-shalts and shalt-nots. They are the crybabies with hurt feelings. We are in a new place, conservatives. We are the cool ones. We are the rebels, the mischief-makers, the counterculture. Let's act like it.

Get out there. Be a dissident. Be an asshole. Say what no one else has the balls to say. Tell the truth even if it's offensive. This is how we will destroy political correctness. This is how we will get America back.