A Lot Of Bad Things Happen

From The Washington Post.

Okay, we all know he doesn’t pay his taxes, he doesn’t think America is “great,” and now he admits he doesn’t have any faith in the democratic process. What the hell?

So, why is it that you want to President, exactly, Donald? You don’t have any political experience, never expressed a desire to hold office. You have no policies (no, I’m not counting “the wall,” any foreign policy that’s a shitty rehash of a Nickelodeon sitcom episode where two siblings have to share a room and they build a wall to keep the other out of their “side” is not foreign policy, YOU IDIOT).

As a poll worker in a mostly-Democratic neighborhood, I can tell you that there are police officers on site. The poll workers just want people to vote and vote according to the law. There are rules in place to help everyone’s voices be heard. We bend over backwards to help every voter, even if that means using Google translate to write down instructions for you in Polish or escorting you physically to the BMD.

If you are actually afraid that “a lot of bad things happen” at the polls, maybe you should attend the five-hour training course to be a poll worker and learn how incredibly boring the process is. How we have to take a measuring tape and literally rearrange a basement to pass legal standards for polling places. At five-oh-fucking-clock in the morning. We’re pushing furniture around and measuring it on our hands and knees to make sure that no “bad things happen.” And then we sit for sixteen hours, or however long it takes everybody to vote, to make sure that EVERYONE GETS TO VOTE —

Which, I guess, is what you’re worried about, huh? That’s your definition of “bad things happening there.” This was all a damn dog whistle. You and your gross old cronies are doing everything you can to keep people from the polls — I mean, did you ever stop to wonder why we vote on Tuesdays? HINT HINT HINT: it’s racist and classist AF.

Now, I don’t believe in prayer — which, I suppose, would be reason enough to violently kick me out of one of your terrifying Nazi rallies —

I don’t believe in prayer, but I am hoping against hope that when you go away … and you will go away, Donald. Your laughable run for Dictator of Amerikuh will blow over as fast as your pathetic excuse for a combover in a gentle Autumn breeze. When your campaign ends with the long, squelching fart noise which is the sound of your overinflated ego slowly deflating, I hope that your deplorable followers wake up from your spell and return to being American citizens. Because now I don’t just hate you for the misogynistic, lying, flim-flammy, ill-tempered, hypocritical asshole that you’ve shown yourself to be. I hate you for pouring violent rhetoric into the soft ears of people who aren’t strong enough to defy you. I hate you for poisoning the well of the American Dream. I hate you for ruining everything I believed in as a proud American. But I will love to watch you go down in flames.

I guess it worked, Donald. I guess you sparked violence in everyone your message reached. That’s a bit of reverse psychology I didn’t think your feeble brain could even muster. But that’s what you really wanted. A lot of bad things happen. All thanks to you.