Hate Speech

A world full of beta males, cucks, feminist, cunts, and whiny little bitches have taken over and consumed most social media platforms. Normal folks are being forced out of a free and open conversation because it violates "community standards." Case in point, I present exhibit A.

Community standards is a strange way to say leftist bullshit. A bunch of chamomile tea-sipping cock suckers in Palo Alto set these "community standards" as if us regular folks aren't part of the "community." So I knew it was just a matter of time before I friended one too many weak-minded liberal fuckwads and they would report something I posted because they were ooooooofffffended.

When people continually post shit that drives me nuts, I simply delete them, but in the Orwellian world of social media, the Thought Police will not allow blasphemy of their precious minority of transgendered persons or tolerate any negative term of homosexuals. To label any speech as "hate speech" and delete the content is pissing on the spirit of free and open thought, something liberals used to champion. (How times change.) Sure, the Big Blue is a private enterprise as are the liberal fucktards that host this very blog. It's their turf, they can set the rules. It certainly isn't violating my first amendment right but what it is doing is silencing opposition to the lunatics that believe men can be born women and vice versa. If history is any guide, attempts to silence an opinion you don't like only emboldens the person you're trying to silence.

What's worse, is the secret reporting ability. If it is so offensive, why not comment and tell me I'm an intolerant asshole?  This "in the shadows" reporting of social media accounts or posts is absurd and highlights the inherent weakness of their argument. The "review team" is even more absurd. It's chock full of liberal twats who have an entire panel of feelings levers they can pull right before they pick up a puppy and go snuggle in the safe space.

I'll never know what faceless coward that decided to report this post to begin with and I'll never know the room full of betas in California that removed it, but I do know this. Banning something you don't like that has no effect on your being just makes you a traitor to the spirit of liberty. Therefore, I never fucking liked you in the first place. So go on pretending that men wearing makeup and getting plastic titties is normal and enjoy the rest of your day, cunt. 

Fixd review

This video was shared on my timeline and I simply couldn't get everything I needed to say in a comment thread. Buckle up, kids. 

 The classic, "Don't get tricked by a mechanic." It's common knowledge that I wake up every morning and think of every possible way to fuck you sideways on your repair bill. At least that's what 35 year old divorced soccer moms with sagging implants seem to think about me. The truth is, vehicles break so much on their own, that I wouldn't have time to fix things that I just made up. You'll never believe me so I'm wasting breath, but let it be known that you're the fucking moron that purchased a Chrysler product. Your decision making is a lot like that time you blew the entire varsity football team under the bleachers. I don't hear you blaming them for the taste in your mouth.

Well smack me in the tits and call me Susan! You found the Holy Grail! Technicians have been begging Snap-On for years for "The Machine." One tool to tell you exactly what needs to be repaired. All those nights I spent in an industrial tech school classroom honing my diagnostic prowess and here you are with the proverbial Genie in a Bottle. None of this is remotely true, but you seem convinced that your $59 OBD II Bluetooth Device can do the same thing as my $3,000 diagnostic scanner and 20 years of hard-earned experience. I'll let you keep believing that. With customers like you, who needs enemies? 

It literally says that? That means your "free app" is loosely translating a trouble code and picking a possible cause. Even if your free app is right half of the time, your odds still suck. Hopefully by saying "suck" I didn't trigger you. It's amazing that your free app was able to hook an oil pressure gauge up to test the pressure and confirm. You know how many boxes of Microflex this would save me? It's even more amazing that without even testing the circuit, it knew there was no short to power or bad ground and that the converter inside the engine control module was properly translating the voltages. 

Yay! The fun part! "To the Cunt Mobile! We'll show those Master Technicians that my glorified OBD II code reader can replace them!" It's one thing to be ignorant. It's another thing to be so menacingly prideful in your ignorance that it causes you to have resting cunt smirk. I didn't even have to try hard to get this screen shot. I think you're more interested in playing "Gotcha" than you are in getting your vehicle repaired. I'm no psychologist, but I'm assuming you're one of those women who constantly posts shit on Facebook like "Why are there no good men left?" And a few passive aggressive entries like "I'll make it through this." One-upping arrogance doth make a woman lonely. 

You want honesty? First, you should fire your hair stylist. It literally looks like you went to Sports Clips and asked for the "Tom Brady." A little eyeliner goes a long way. Your five head is screaming for all the attention and your 1997 nose ring says "I only listen to Indie." It's been so long since being intimate with someone that it looks like someone shaved an alpaca over an Arby's roast beef sandwich downstairs. Pro tip: Wearing men's underwear doesn't make you a tough lumberjack chick that rides the fine line between Sarah Jessica Parker and Rosie O'Donnell, it just makes you asexual. Wait, you wanted honesty about your vehicle? My bad. Carry on..

Stop right there. You can't have it both ways. If you want true equality, you can't pull that "I'm just a little scared woman" card every time you encounter difficulty in life. How in fuck's name did you go from "I have Fixd! I know everything!" to "I think that being a woman." Sounds like you want your cake and to eat it too. I mean, we all knew you actually ate the cake. Several of them actually. In fact, I think you're chewing a piece now. If I had a dollar for every time I've heard "I'm just a woman, you're gonna rip me off," I could buy an F-350 in cash. Chivalry is dead, lady. So have a big heaping bowl of equality and educate yourself instead of being a victim, you indolent succubus. 

Considering the low quality of the video, I knew it was a matter of time before you got your neighbor to pretend to be a technician. There's no way he didn't see the camera that the guy who is friend-zoning you is holding. The neighbor probably agreed because he needs to borrow your chainsaw that you bought to look tough. That, or you're holding his children hostage. You do kind of give off that vibe. Just sayin. But seeing that we're playing make-believe.... 

So he says you ran it low on oil and it'll be $1,900 to fix. That's it? No explanation of what is damaged, what needs to be replaced? No one in their right mind would get their car serviced there. Which is the point you were trying to exacerbate. If you run your car low on oil and it locks down, it's gonna cost more than that to fix, lady. No professional shop is going to say "it's gonna end up being.." I will tell you, point blank, what is broke, what needs to be repaired, and a price. Period, full stop. At that point, you can give the green light or decline. It's not gonna hurt my feelings. If you'd like to take it down the road and have a less qualified technician give you a second opinion, be my guest. Fact is, in my area, I'm the best. That's not narcissism, that's just a fact. 

I don't know how you talked Roy Moore into acting for your video, but I hope you haven't told him that you're holding your neighbor's kids hostage in your basement. He might offer to service your car for free in trade. He seems like a yes man and you know what? So am I. If you come in to the shop and say "I want my oil pressure sensor replaced, I don't need a diagnostic." I will absolutely put it in for you. I will literally do anything you ask me to do to your vehicle without question. Just don't come back in tomorrow bitching because your MIL is still on. Just the other week, I had someone like you come in and demand their alternator need to be replaced. They were certain of it and there was no way in hell they were gonna come off with $22 to have their starting and charging system checked. We pleaded with them to have their system tested so that unnecessary parts weren't replaced but they were adamant. So one $800 Volkswagen alternator later, and the car still won't start. They finally ask us to run the $22 test. It was just a battery. They could have spent $150 and been fine but because of the pervasive distrust of technicians because of videos like yours, they got nearly a grand worth of new, shiny alternator that was completely unnecessary. Cunt on with your bad self, Karen. 

FIXD isn't the reason. You had no intention of spending a completely fabricated number. You came up with that to drive home the false narrative that a $59 OBD II device can replicate what I do. Much like your top down cell phone camera cleavage shots posted on Tinder can't replicate balanced caloric intake and self control. I challenge any vehicle owner with a FIXD device to report back to me what your Genie told you to replace on your Ford truck with a P0171 and P0174.  After several trips to AutoZone (Home of the flunkies) and several hundred dollars later, I'll bet your Genie won't be looking all that smart. Better yet, have FIXD measure the pulse width modulation of an infinite fan on an oscilloscope to find duration and proper command. I'll be waiting...

Assassin's Creed Origins (of Desynchronization)

Ubisoft Montreal has knocked it out of the park so many times that I was beginning to wonder if they would ever strike out. I guess it all depends on the controller of the beholder. They have relentlessly marketed the new AC as an all immersive genus of the Brotherhood literally set in Bumblefuck Egypt. The official story is Medjay this and that blah blah, Cleopatra. But I figured I would correct the official story.

The story follows a protagonist by the name of Bayek. The name Bayek loosely translates to "Continuously Reanimated Corpse." The game starts with a cut scene of the imprisoned Bayek getting in a melee with one of the Pharaoh's home boys. In classic AC brutality, Bayek fits a mask with a knife sticking out of it to the man's face, instant death. Now I'm excited. Time to fuck some shit up! So I thought..

Bayek then must find a way to escape from the ruins where he survived a 500 ft free fall onto a mound of broken concrete without getting so much as a scratch. Like most games, this the level where you get a feel for the controls; Up, Down, Funky Town, etc,. After an hour of trying to figure out how to light the fucking torch so that you can see where you're going, you find daylight and some seemingly low level soldiers of the Pharaoh. Time to assassinate...

You crouch down and walk softly, making sure to not get spotted by sight or sound. You creep up to a small structure a few feet from the first soldier and begin trying to find the button that will put you in cover. Joke's on you, there is no cover button. I mean, sure you expected a cover button as this is the world's most popular assassination game series and in the other 37 games, there was a cover button. So there you are standing in the sand in your Persian pajamas with children's toys for weapons feeling like you're about to be yard fucked by a gang of little caesars. It's at this moment, one of them spots you and comes running at you like Usain Bolt running after a Gold Medal. This motherfucker is about to drive a nine foot spear through your genitals.

The first death is the sweetest. Matter of fact, the first few deaths in a new game are forgivable while you're getting your bearings around the controls. After the fifth death, you get a few insult prompts. "Switch to easy any time you want, champ." After the tenth death, you realize you're carrying a shield, but you have a to use a bumper button to pull it front of you. "Sweet!" you finally get your first kill by successfully blocking a few swipes from Sir Spearsalot. Feeling elated, you turn your attention to the other two who are looking at you like a plate of fried chicken after a seven day fast.

15 deaths later, you make it out of the first combat scene. Keep in mind that this is, for all intents and purposes, the scene in which the final controls of the game are supposed to be ironed out on your end and not the final boss. By the sweet mercy of Amun, you finally kill all three soldiers and meet up with your camping friend who I'm not even gonna try to pronounce his name, let's just call him Billy. Billy instructs you to call your whip, then the game does the same. "Press D-pad down" I must've pressed D-pad down a hundred and fifty times before realizing you must hold it down for car service, press it down to whistle at enemies. Here comes my camel, shittin' and gettin' it over the mountain side. "Y to mount" I admit, that made me giggle. So you follow Billy on your camel into the lower west side known as Siwa.

You and Billy roll up on his crib to find another handful of little caesar's walking around shouting for Billy's head on a pike. Time to spill some blood. You have no idea it's going to be yours at the time, but I digress. You duck in some tall weeds which turns you a bit sparkly, letting you know you're concealed. "Awesome, just find grass to hide in instead of a cover button. Kind of gay, but whatevs"
A soldier approaches, you whistle, he comes over, you hit "Y" to "take down". This is the moment your hidden blade is supposed to come out of your bracer and sever the carotid artery of your unsuspecting prey. Nope, you simply drag him in the bushes and beat his ass, Ike Turner style. This doesn't kill him, instead he lies there and moans like he's giving birth. You're trying to contemplate your next take down but this whiny bitch won't stop "oohhhh it hurts, ooooohhhh" so then you stand up and hit him with your $3.99 Fisher Price Sword which kills him. "Relief", you think. Nope. That's when home boy's ride or die crew shows up behind you and turns you into stir fry cause they watched you do that shit.

20 deaths later, you have an epiphany. "Eagle Vision!" What makes AC games so fucking awesome is a secondary vision that tags your enemies, even if they're behind walls. "I'll use Eagle Vision and find where the bad guys are!" Nope. You now have a "pulse scan" which only highlights loot, not psychopaths in man skirts who have a collective hard on to end your life for the 51st time. I think there is a mercy algorithm built in to the game because I can't tell you how I made it out of Billy's house. But after an hour or so, I had managed to.

This is the point in the game where Billy tells you about this salty ass motherfucker who's running Siwa by the name of Umbagajaja? What Billy doesn't tell you is that Umbagajaja is the Suge Knight of Siwa. He's leveled up so high that he will drop you just by looking at you. Billy is an asshole. It will then dawn on you to level up a bit before attempting to rob Death Row Records. A few cutscenes after Billy's house, Billy brings you your pet bird, Sinu. Now you can launch Sinu in the air and he will allegedly tag enemies for you, this is a half truth.

Where you go from here is up to you. I chose to raid a bandit cave to try and get an upgrade to my Halloween costume the game refers to as armor. I get to the cave entrance and can see two LARPers reenacting scenes from Lord of the Rings. I know those aren't the only two so now I'm gonna launch Sinu and tag the rest. It took at least ten minutes to be able to even slightly control this airborne hunk of poultry. No one tells you that Sinu got a nasty meth habit while you were in prison or the accidentally dropped him on his head a few times at frat parties and he is now mildly retarded. First, he flies at mach three. You can't slow him down, but you can stop him and use his bionic eyeball to zoom in. Let that sink in. Also, you actually have to zoom in on EACH FUCKING ENEMY INDIVIDUALLY to tag them. So for the moment, you have no idea there are five guards playing shower swords in the men's room because Retardobird can't see through walls. Just when you think everyone is accounted for, you begin your attack.

This game has prided itself on stealth in the past. Stealth be damned. If you fart and the wind blows it the wrong way an entire platoon of the Pharaoh's cross-dressers are gonna be on you like white on rice. Your Play-Doh shield can only take a few mean words before it leaves you exposed to a full on attack of ravenous, spear-wielding bloodcunts who nearly instantaneously murder our beloved Bayek and suck another three tenths of life from your own personal soul.

I'm gonna give it another go tonight and see if I can't figure out some tactics to make this game playable and will post another review if that's the case. In the meantime, it's looking more and more like I bought a $60 coaster for my Dr. Pepper cans...

First Degree Aggravated Whiteness

At what point does a person stand up and say enough? Every one of us possesses a unique limit that triggers reason. Unfortunately, that trigger is so far up the bar for the average white liberal that no amount of logic can reach it. Modern liberalism is heavy on ideology and light on reality. These people never seem to amaze me with their mindless babbling. Social conservatives sometimes get under my skin, but nothing like a modern, ill-informed, college-aged, self-professed liberal.

White privilege is a term that has a growing, cancerous chorus that has a chilling effect not only on speech but on the pursuit of happiness itself declared in one of the greatest documents ever written. Today, I read this article https://medium.com/@johnmetta/i-racist-538512462265 that a friend had posted on social media. The author makes some fair points. I always try to at least understand someone whom I fervently disagree with's point of view. I try to put myself in their shoes and make an honest effort to see through their eyes. While I will never truly know what it's like to be black in America, I can at least admit that on some levels that institutional bigotry exists. I, myself, am a bigot. Ironically, my bigotry came about from the institutional polices put in place by the generation before mine. Affirmative action, in its various forms, perpetrated my distrust of the system as a whole. You see, when I was in high school, I was constantly and relentlessly heckled, belittled, and humiliated by the black students. When they would start something with me and I defended myself, I would be punished and they would walk free. They could take a swing at me in front of an administrator and they were simply told to go to class; where if I were to block said swing and fire back, I was sent to the office where I would serve time in the ISS gulag. I was taught that because my race was responsible for the atrocities committed against another race, that I was guilty by association. One time, I was told to write my thoughts down concerning my problems with the black students, and when I did, I was fucking punished for that too. So the author of aforementioned article offers no reprieve, let alone any suggestions for correcting our current course. He states his opinion and would have all white people believe that even though you're not personally racist, you're still a racist.

I disagree. Again, I'm a bigot. On some level, we all are whether you want to admit it or not. I could care less really, it's your cross to bear. I steadfastly reject the notion that I'm a racist. I read words on a literal level. The term racism gets thrown around so loosely that it has lost its meaning. I do not believe that any one race is genetically inferior to another. I do believe, however, that certain cultural traits give folks pause in certain situations; which makes me a bigot. I exercise an extreme amount of caution when I'm in certain parts of town; which makes me a bigot. I have completely stopped going to Braves games all together because the amount of violent crime in the area of Turner field makes it not worth the risk to my life, limb, or property; which makes me a bigot. At night when I see someone in hoody with his hands in his pockets walking towards me, I consciously put 15 to 20 feet of lateral space as we pass; which makes me a bigot. I enjoy crude, racial humor from every race. I laugh the hardest when black comedians rip on white stereotypes; which apparently makes everyone involved a bigot. I could go on, but you get where I'm going.

All that said, it is really getting on my fucking nerves that a large segment of society believes what little success I've achieved in life so far is because I'm white and I have white privilege. I grew up as poor as they come. I didn't have much, but I had enough. I had an intact family unit that gave me my work ethic and ambition. Work ethic and ambition are not white-only traits. Intact family units are not for whites only. I decided at a very young age that being poor sucked balls so when I became an adult, my number one goal in life was to fix that. I am far from being rich. Money still gets tight. But even after coming out of a school system that actively discriminated against me because of my race, I own a home and a new car along with other material belongings that are outrageously expensive. I sacrificed my social night life for two years to go to tech school on the Hope Grant that anyone, regardless of color, can get. It was me, not white privilege. When I get stopped by the police, they always have a hand on their taser or firearm, I am asked to get out of my vehicle and am almost always unlawfully detained while they threaten me and try to bully me into performing an illegal search on my vehicle. An Atlanta police officer told me point blank one time that he wouldn't of hesitated to kill me had he known immediately that I was (legally) carrying a firearm.  So I would appreciate it if someone could call the local metro police departments and tell them that I'm supposed to have white privilege

I guess in closing I can say that I don't have the answer to our boiling over race issues in this country. All I can do is tell my story. I don't want sympathy, I'm not blaming victims. I simply want to live my life with as much personal liberty as possible. I will never accept that I am responsible for someone else's problems. I will not accept blame because someone failed in life and decided that I am somehow the problem because of my race. MTV has a new show in which white people are belittled and shamed because of the sins of their fathers. Without a doubt, there will be hoards of guilty white liberals crying right along the side of these fucking idiots. So sit back and prepare to listen to this horseshit for the rest of your lives, folks. It's only gonna get worse. Captain Positive signing off....

Black Coffee, ISISsies, and a Circus.

Ted Cruz has officially thrown his hat into the Republican Presidential Primary. Yawn. I admire the Senator's patriotism and his dose of brash showmanship on the Senate floor, but he has a delivery problem like many other potential candidates. He comes of much like Ron Paul. Irritated, cynical, and slightly unhinged. While the substance of his arguments should define his aspirations, his oratory will not allow a majority of folks to look any deeper than the headlines of The New York Times. He's his own worst enemy. Game over, Senator. I rate his chances of winning less than 15% and that's being gracious. 

ISIS has published a "hit list" of American military personnel in an attempt to spur a lone wolf into trying to kill a few of them. These archaic bloodthirsty cockroaches seem to stop at nothing. However, while it isn't a laughing matter, I can't help but to think of little Mohammed trying to kick the door down of a Special Ops Operator in the middle of the night somewhere in Texas. That would be a Pay Per View I would totally be willing to buy. Apparently we, "The Great Satan" have not done enough to educate these vermin that raiding homes might work in the shithole part of the world they're in, but that dog won't hunt here stateside. You see, you cowards hide behind your masks and behead helpless victims in the name of your god all the while thinking that gives you some kind of strength that is untouchable. You try that shit here and we will evacuate your chest cavity. It's one thing to kill a unarmed lamb on a YouTube video. It's a whole 'nuther ballgame to target what is in all practical purposes a trained killer. Furthermore, the neighbors of these warriors you are idiotically targeting are armed to the teeth as well. So come on over and try it. I fucking dare you, pussies. 

In other news, you can't order a mocha latte at Starbucks anymore without getting sucked into an awkward conversation about race with a complete stranger. The white liberal guilt of the CEO was so overwhelming that he is now forcing his subordinates to "engage" customers on race issues. I mean, I can see it now. Little Jimmy was on his way to a lynching but a fresh vanilla frappe and a deep conversation about race changed his mind. Bullshit. I don't want to have a conversation on race with a barista. I just want a fucking coffee and my change. If you try to engage me in an unwanted conversation on race, then I'm letting the pig out. Try me:

Here's your latte, Mr. C. Let's talk about your white privilege. 

"Go fuck yourself. Puerto Ricans are lazy. 

Here's your Latte, Mr. C. Black lives matter. 

"I never said they didn't. How many fathers do your kids have?"

Here's your latte Mr. C. We Asians are only 6% of the U.S. Population. 

"And to be so good at math, you can't tell the difference between 8 and 16 ounces. I said Large, Chang!"

See, really bad idea.  

Planet WTFitness

I already had a list of reasons a mile long as to why you would never catch me dead in a Planet Fitness establishment. Topping the list is that gains are not allowed. If you actually lift weight, you're thrown out. If you look "too fit", you're thrown out. God forbid you make a noise while attempting to lift weight. That's a double whammy. They'll sound this ridiculous "lunk alarm" and then throw you out. Planet Fitness has always been a place where out of shape people go to look at exercise machines and eat pizza. They pride themselves on being a "judgement free zone" yet they will judge the fuck out of you if you're actually accomplishing something. Just when I thought that things couldn't get worse, a story kept popping up on my news feed that men are now allowed to shower in the women's locker room simply by "identifying" as a female. Stop the presses! This literally was my first thought.

Spare me the "you bigot, homophobe, (insert reactionary liberal insult), etc,.. Anyone that knows me can tell you that I don't have the slightest problem with gay folks. To me, this isn't about gay or straight. To me, this crosses the fucking line. A line that propels my inner protective instinct. Frankly, I could give a shit less if my words offend you because if ever in the history of the world has there been a slippery slope, this would be it. I also don't care that I am in a small minority of people who find this not only repulsive, but dangerous. I'm not so worried about someone so woefully confused that they think they grew a cock by accident. My concern lies in that if all a man has to do to get full access to vulnerable naked women is to say "I was born with the wrong junk" then what is Planet Fitness advertising to rapists?

If you have a penis, you are male. You can "identify" as a female all you'd like but you're not.  Did you ever think during your "don't judge me" rant that got a woman banned that just maybe women in the locker room would have a problem with you swinging your willy around? But their thoughts, culture, and privacy doesn't matter, right? They are just a bunch of intolerant bigots because they have this wild notion that perhaps you should be changing in the proper locker room? They are the selfish ones, right? Give me a fucking break. The left in this country is just sooooooo tolerant of everything until it's something they don't agree with.

Do you really want to accept a strange man whipping his dick out in front of your wife, girlfriend, mom, or sister? Not this hombre. If you're a man in the women's locker room with your fucking pants off then I'm going to assume you're a rapist and respond appropriately. Tolerance be damned.

Every sexual predator from Peeping Toms to hardened rapists have a new place to conduct their criminality now all thanks to Planet Fitness and its extreme "no judgements" policy. The craziest part of it all is that vast majority of comments are cheering this dangerous bullshit on. The left is all about feminism until it's inconvenient to one of their cherished demographics. So ladies of Planet Fitness, if you plan on not canceling your membership (which I highly recommend you do so you can join a real gym) then buy yourself a nice Glock or Springfield polymer pistol and stick it in your gym bag. They are water resistant and will still fire in moisture-laden environments with good brass case ammo. I personally recommend Speer Golddots or Cor-bonds. They use top-shelf primers for guaranteed ignition. If you see a naked man in your locker room, two in the center chest mass will do the trick. 

All About That Vitriol

I used to enjoy election season, but this year has been so sonically painful that I simply can't even turn on a radio without hearing the piercing annoyance that is Michelle Nunn's voice. If Tom Shane and Siri had a love child, he would be it. If he loses the election, then liberals can take solace that the enormous amount of money they have poured into my home state to support his air campaign has given this American many a headache. I honestly would rather hear a Fran Drescher orgasm played in an EDM loop 24 hours a day for the rest of the year than to hear another Nunn for Senate commercial. Next week's election looks like it's going to go into a runoff. Fucking fantastic! Two more months of she-male radio ads. 

Now to the meat (or lack thereof) of his bid for the Senate. He is running on the old tired democrat 

adage of the evil Republican wants to eat your babies and starve your grandmother. To make matters worse, he is running around Atlanta telling black people that if David Perdue is elected then we are going to have another Ferguson right here at home. A lot of people say they are surprised that democrats would sink this low to win a seat. I'm not shocked at all. Matter of fact, anyone that is surprised that a democrat would use gutter tactics hasn't been paying attention. They have been doing this for years to keep black voters on the plantation. Michelle Nunn can pretend he doesn't approve of the ads, but give me a fucking break. We all know what's going on. He hasn't even lived here for decades. Doesn't walk like a Georgian doesn't talk like a Georgian, can't possibly be a Georgian. 

Before I go any farther, you're probably wondering why my pronoun for Michelle Nunn has been incorrect thus far. Here is proof that I'm on to something...

Now that I've cleared that up, back to Michelle Nunn and his bid for the Senate. 

So even if he is the one democrat that is magically independent from the national party (highly unlikely), what is he running on? Education. Seriously?  So Ebola is melting West Africa, ISIS is spreading the religion of peace by the sword in all corners of the globe, we are nearing 18 Trillion dollars in debt, we have an anemic 2.0% or less growth rate, and hard working people still can't find a job for a multitude of democrat policy reasons and he wants to beat the dead education horse. I watched a special on the news the other night about Harlan Kentucky and immediately wanted to punch the first enviro-whacko I saw in the face. With a chair. Full of rusty nails. Here are hardworking people reduced to wards of the state because the liberal elite in Washington worship at the alter of junk science. Here is a fact. There are no immediate alternatives to coal. The life we enjoy on a daily basis is powered by coal. Shutting down coal operations in the name of The Church of Global Warming isn't working. People are out of work and electricity is more expensive. Liberals will shout separation of church and state at the top of their lungs until it's their church. Hypocrites. You wanna see the result of people like Michelle Nunn's policies? Go to Harlan Kentucky. Look one of those coal miners in the eye and tell them that your fucking religion is more important than their kids eating. The democrat party has gone off the edge. The communists that pull the strings (Harry Reid-ites) have spawned delusional economic psychopaths and Mr. Nunn is no different than the rest. 

So onto my next gripe. In between the incessant Nunn for Senate radio ads, there is a song played every fifteen minutes talking about "All About That Bass." Considering the song comes on 21,576 times in my ten hour day I couldn't help but listen to the lyrics. Once I understood what the song was about I was irritated. Basically, the song is justifying being large and in charge. It's an anthem to all of the landbeasts to have that second entire pie in one sitting. After all, the "boys want a little more booty to hold at night." That line isn't entirely inaccurate. But there is a difference between a girl that squats and a girl that wrecks a bucket of fried chicken as a midnight snack. Sadly, this song is promoting the latter. I get it, no one is perfect. I'm certainly not and fried chicken is fucking delicious (in moderation). But this track is pretty much telling women that it's totally sexy to plump the rump and walk around like an African Rhino missing a thyroid gland. Case in point...

So while Meghan Trainor's objective was to have a feel good song about having a thunder rump, she is practically promoting obesity by implying that men want a tub of cottage cheese rubbing up against them whilst sleeping. Perhaps some do. But then again some men like to be hit with spiked objects for gratification and some men like to bump in animal costumes and while ripped on ecstasy. I probably could go on, but folks likely wouldn't want to see those memes. 

My other gripe about the song, and the reason why I feel justified firing back, is her lines ripping stick figure barbie dolls while showing perfectly healthy in shape women. Those women worked very hard to be in that shape. They are disciplined and have an enormous amount of self control. They are incredibly sexy and just because they had the gall to build an athletic frame you're going to bash them as being Barbie dolls? Jealous much? While you're having your third slice of cheesecake, she is putting up weight. Considering the mental fortitude she has to dedicate herself to fitness, she gives exactly no fucks what your fat ass thinks about her. But me? Sometimes I just like being an asshole and your ridiculous song inspired these words. I would tell you to have a nice day, but you'd probably eat that too. 

Happy Halloween.