Sassy Gun Owners: Choosing Cancer Children Over Murdered Minors

There is way too much drama this week. And since it is drama based around tragedy, there has not been enough time for comedy.

I say that, but with the evilness of @MissSassyIA  (the IA is for Ignorant and Apathetic, a formula on how to make money in marketing in the Great Plains void) to try to distract you with other ways kids die instead of just surrendering her guns like a reasonable person, it makes me think that trying to purchase a domain to list racist, xenophobic, apathetic and ignorant/hateful people is a good idea. Unfortnately, my cynism leaves me to believe that I would abuse it.

Probably by including the license plates, makes and models of douchebag drivers. Like the GOP-loving plate of the legally blind old woman who stops her car a length and a half from the stop line at the Airport Road lights. Or the guy with a personalized "Dead Head" plate on a Dodge Charger. Listen to Don Henley for fucksake.

And the hateful who will read this will say, "thanks for reminding us of a fake news anthem."

That's where the fun ends. You can thank Twitter for this. All of those extra characters, a rant can become an ideal-sized blog. Twitter should cut of the President and direct him to Google Plus. This will allow Donald Trump to leave all of his bullshit in one post, and no one will immediately give a damn hence he will have to communicate like a real leader.

As I said, 280 characters times three means a blog, not a tweet. And hear is my attempt to defend the young adults who got their guts 10 years before I did.

David Hogg @davidhogg111: The first step to changing the world is believing that you can. #walkoutandwalkup

This is a motivational statement that can apply to anything, but since he displays reason, those who want the opportunity to kill someone will respond like this.

Miss Sassy @MissSassyIA: What about the parents who’ve lost a child to #cancer? Or #suicide by bullies?That life didn’t matter? Many more die daily! All about an agenda. Shame.
#BeingABullyKills #StandupForThoseWhoAreDifferent
#WednesdayWisdom #SuicidePrevention #walkoutandwalkup #WalkoutWednesday

I think people have an easier time being insulted than knowing, let alone accepting, they are wrong, so I tried my damnest not to use the correct obsenities to refer to gun owners who say there are so many other things too worry about than people being allowed the option to kill scores of kids.

Suicide is the decision of the individual. Childhood cancer is either worldly chaos or the result of an uncaring/cruel god. If it is a god, only a god gets to choose who lives and dies. #walkoutandwalkup #WednesdayWisdom

Meaning people who want the godlike power offered by any gun not designed to kill a deer are the problem. Mass incarceration does not work with minorities, why would we expect it to with white people? #walkoutandwalkup #WednesdayWisdom

We cannot lock up the people who want godlike power till it is too late, but we can stop an outdated 240 year-old document from standing in the way of removing their murder aides. #walkoutandwalkup #WednesdayWisdom #GunReformNow #GunsSaveLives

Talking down to a teenager because he is wiser than you, that is bullying @MissSassyIA - Personal experience. #BeingABullyKills

Should I have mentioned my experience defending myself against a knife without any weapons to further my point?

I should just focus on trying to finish off my Ian Rotten blog series to move on to move on to say why it is okay for a "Fabulous Moolah Battle Royal" as long as we keep Trump Humper Kid Rock out of the WWE Hall of Fame.

See "Rape Culture Killed My Blog: Track 2" in regards to whom they call Kid.

Now to tweet this blog out and mention more white trash in the ad.

Rape Culture Killed My Blog: Track 2 of Wish You Were Here

I think the world may have been going to shit before Trump became president. His election is hopefully just the bottom.

The thing that has been bugging me since after the planet's finest moment (any particular suggestions on this year's Spring Training tattoo...I'm stuck between touching up the most famous Cubs ink in pro-wrestling with the addition of some true football stars for 1907 and 1908 and the number 3 for 2016 or accompanying Ziggy Star Cub with a Queen Cub [if the latter, with or without the 80s' Mercury Stache]) is a topic that men may not have a place to make a statement about. My job at the I Hotel has left me dealing with seemingly the worst elements of white privilege, but to find those elements present in my social and family life makes it tough to be silent, regardless if it is misguided as I continue letting the keyboard express it.

When you tell an employer you prefer evenings, but are scarcely allowed to work them, you learn to that you better appreciate any moment you have before the third act of "The Daily Show (I'm cutting the cable off as soon as I move from my heat-deprived, roach-infested "not section 8" apartment, so I'll be more woke when I don't need to skip ACLU and women's rights activists to shower in my wet and dark, gnat-consumed bathroom). My girlfriend and I wanted to get the most out of November 4, a Friday, and when we heard about Emily Blue's benefit show for victims on WCIA that night, we decided to check it out. I am happy to say that our cover fees should have covered the cost for the local rape crisis hotline to operate for at least one more day, but when my girlfriend found out that the abuse to women was beyond just strikes and throws, she insisted that we had to leave. I tried to talk her into returning for the show, but she told me to that her near misses with rape (isn't that technically a hit, a joke from my dad that seems appropriate as I type it) made her scared to even address topic.

I had talked to her months ago about my need to write that in a blog, and I appreciate her understanding when she gave me permission to follow through. And I am grateful that she let me push back that night against her request for me to come to church for a sense of community that my hours do not allow me and for my personal salvation. It is also great that she did not think I was too much of a dick when I left her once we got back home to claim the other half of the make-up wings that Wing Stop deprived me of.

My girl and I enjoyed what time we had when we settled in at home, but if I knew I had to leave her to go and:

• Play nice with an out-of-touch state comptroller (to her credit, Lisa Munger was very polite and accommodating guest).
• Deal with the bullshit of the alleged towel-stealing, bar tab-skipping owner of the Secure First insurance brokerage who allegedly screwed me out of $660 seven years ago (when I find my certified mail receipt from when I sent an invoice and a disc of the webwork I did for his company, you can scratch the last alleged).
• Monitor hallways to give out noise complaints to drunk NIBCO valve employees (probably sales persons) who were there for Kid Rock's corporate gig that took place at The Accord.

I would have probably called in that night, and they should not have taken issue with this since I did not tell them to fuck off (more likely risk wasting their time with a polite plead...my bite comes from typing or three vodka drinks) when I had to pick up a St. Louis Cardinals fan at the airport instead of watch the last three out of game seven two days prior. When I found out that NIBCO's gig moved Emily Blue's benefit to the smaller Clark Street Bar (good for the sparse crowds of industrial/goth Wednesday nights, not much for a record release from Champaign's hottest act [I'm still new to the C-U, so pardon incidental hyperbole]), "Welcome to the Machine" seemed to be the appropriate soundtrack for that overnight.

It is bad enough to work for a wannabe Biker for Trump, but finding out you employer assisted in facilitating a greed driven performance from one of the most outspoken supporters on the New Face of Rape Lite (Bill Cosby would be the full-calorie face of the crime), you have pretty much determined then that you better get out-of-there once you get...a new apartment and at least the week paid vacation for serving there a year. My girlfriend should be proud of me at least working for some kind of salvation for my past three months of working in sin. Or maybe this blog will let her know to lay off thinking about the negotiating possibilities when they know I am looking for the unsecured exit door to the FDC rim-jobbing the rich tax write off.

If there is a silver lining to this, it is knowing that Donald Trump's finances being so poor is the reason that he is not releasing his tax returns. Surely Kid Rock can perform a cleaned up set on the Washington Mall for a rather low price if a piping company can get him to play a bar that hold 500 in Illiana. Hell, Trump supporters would not curse him for his vulgar objectification of women, so no need to put the effort in cleaning up his act.

My opinion of my work environment only got worse when I had to deal with the attendees of the Illinois Farm Service Conference (emphasis on Farm so you can picture the appearance, accent and attitudes of these drunks) while they were waiting for the official announcement of a Trump victory. A mess of beer bottles, Pop Tarts and an information monitor for the Illinois Conference Center that the guests screwed around with to find Fox News coverage awaited me when my coworker sent me on a floor walk to avoid me for finally snapping on their demands to take the "Clinton News Network" off the lobby television. I guess I should appreciate the fact my fellow coworkers want to keep me around.

The rednecks who celebrated the abandonment of the majority of the nation did not say anything that was particularly offensive beyond the character assassination of the woman who should be leading this country and mocking the whines of the caring and rational. It was just difficult to handle four hours of it (for fucksake, last call was 1 am at the bar). I state this because trashing and victim blaming women for the tragedies men force upon them was not prevalent. This bullshit was something I did not need before I had to return to the ignorant (I mean conservative) towns that I had been longing to get away from.