An Open Letter to the Deranged, Estranged, Un-American Left
A letter to our dear, dear “Komrades,” on the left,
Please. Don’t change a thing. Not one bit. In fact, kick it up a notch or two, if that’s possible.
The screaming. The chanting. The cowardly, impish, face-covered mobs heaving molotovs and rocks and swinging metal batons at unarmed men and women. So tough.
The midnight naked romps through moonlit meadows, stripped bare and smearing menstrual blood on the trees and fenceposts as a screaming banshee protest to Mother Earth over the injustice of the patriarchy. Ever screeching. So sexy. (And locals, don’t make me name names.)
Raise your fists and empty skulls to the sky and scream until your voices disappear. Fairly sure it worked for you in daycare.
Tackle sitting U.S. Senators from behind, breaking ribs and puncturing lungs and requiring hospitalization for your chickenshit sucker punch moment. Wouldn’t expect a fair fight.
Bring a gun to a baseball game and open fire on elected leaders, and celebrate that act by encouraging similar actions nationwide. #huntRepublicans
Threaten the President’s son with kidnapping and anal rape and suggest that Rand Paul’s children should be killed and dismembered and their entrails smeared on the walls of their home. Because you love the children at the border, so very, very much.
Conduct seance and ceremony, calling on your dark spirit lords to guide you further and further along the empowering pathway to victory, casting death spells and curses on Trump and his family, his circle, his supporters. Invoke the name of your highest demon lord, the owner of your souls and the father of your movement. How he loves to destroy those who serve him.
Burn couches and defecate in public and wipe your lazy, patchouli-infused hands through your own excreted stench to share and smear into the faces of innocent passerby. So classy and mature.
Heave bottles filled with urine and feces and lighter fluid and anti-freeze. Chant, “Hail Satan,” and “Death to Trump,” and “Fuck Trump,” and all the rest. Scream louder. Maybe it’ll drown out the demons in your head.
Pose with severed bloody effigy heads of Trump and his supporters. You know, because ‘performance art.’
Rip MAGA hats and Trump hats and backpacks and shirts off of those you disagree with and hurl soft drinks and foul language and threats at any Trump supporter you see.
Stand in traffic blocking mothers and fathers and workers and school children and the sick and the dying from reaching their destinations on time or in time. Because love wins. By killing heart attack patients in ambulances blockaded on busy freeways.
Wave rainbow flags while wearing nothing and performing loving acts of shared debauchery out in the open, unashamed. Safe sex and all.
Tell Christians and white people and older Americans that their ways are finished and that the world will be far better with all of us dead and gone. Because we’re the crazy racists.
Burn the flag. Burn four of them on the 4th of July.
Carry guns and knives and cudgels into battles where peaceful American patriots have gathered to pray.
Call every single person who isn’t a communist who failed high school a “racist.”
Call anyone who voted for Trump or supports his policies a ‘Nazi,’ and a ‘fascist,’ even though you never heard those words before last year, 1926-1945 be damned.
Do all of it. Every bit and more. And as you do, read and realize this one last thing to the core of your being:
After all of this. All you’ve done and all you’ve proven to be, we can never again trust you as our countrymen, nor allow into power anyone you trust and support. We can’t. You’ve proven yourselves not political opponents but evil, hateful, vile people lacking intelligence and empathy and the simple, sane, human decency that was once prerequisite to pass kindgergarten, much less to hold elected office. Your days of moralism and aggrandized imperialism of human compassion are finished. If needed, read the above list again and realize that each and every event happened, along with thousands more too extensive and reprehensible to list. This is your testimony to the world. And by any measure at all, it disqualifies you as a worthy recipient of the American blessing.
Because this isn’t even about politics anymore, friends. It’s a matter of mental and emotional fitness to remain a member of free society.
And you fail. All of you.
Sarah Sanders sends her best.
One of the most sane voices of our generation.
One I am most thankful for.
Thanks Shad Olson.
Keep up the great work.
We are listening and some of us are heeding.