In Case You’re Wondering Why We’re in the Shit

Look around you.

Note: The title of this piece references the United States of Pandemica, specifically. I’ll let my brothers and sisters across the globe speak for the rest of the world.

I’d like to thank one Hal Larson, who has one follower…ONE…and hasn’t yet posted one article on Medium…not ONE…for giving me the idea for this story. Really, I’m thrilled because I was running on empty, today.

“So, thanks, Hal, you Orange Turd-loving patriot!”

I received an alert that ole’ Hal left a comment on this story, which I wrote months ago:

Personally, I thought the story was witty, pithy even, as did other readers. Ole’ Hal on the other hand, did not. This is the comment this loser left me:

Your journalism is trash. Your vocabulary is trash. Your President is Donald J Trump. Now go cry about it some more snowflake.

“Hal, maybe YOUR president is Donald J. Trump, you ignoramus, but he’s not mine.”

And he never will be.

I told Hal off, as is my wont, and eventually, when I think he’s had a chance to read this, I will block his inbred ass.

Now folks, this is some damned scary stuff. You know these individuals are everywhere, floating around the stratosphere in their own scum, but when you’re actually confronted by one, it’s jarring, to say the least.

Just by association, I would suspect that ole’ Hal is a racist, sexist, hate-spewing slob without an original thought in his head. I imagine that “Black Lives Matter” is an affront to his finely-honed sensibilities. And he probably wet himself when his president separated Hispanic families at the border, and put their children in cages.

“Lock those little beaners, up, right, Hal?”

And ole’ Hal’s right about one thing: Yes, I have “cried” about the fact that the Orange Turd holds the highest office in the land. I’ve cried about the fact that he is responsible for the deaths of thousands upon thousands of our fellow Americans.

I’ve cried about the fact that almost singlehandedly, he’s brought this one great country down and it will take years, possibly decades before we recover.

I’ve cried about the fact that Trump hasn’t gotten sick and shuffled off this mortal coil…not yet, anyway. And I’ll bet that the loved ones of those who needlessly lost their lives are crying, too.

But ‘ole Hal doesn’t care about that kind of tripe. Why should he? He probably gets up every morning, stuffs his face with bacon fried in lardo, checks his bottom line, and then spends the rest of the day reading his Fuhrer’s tweets and jerking off to Fox News.

I would laugh if I wasn’t so infuriated because this kind of attack is unacceptable.

Now I realize that the whole world is in the shit, but the U.S. is leading the pack. Thanks to ole’ Hal’s fantasy wank, we’re a global joke. And no one’s laughing more heartily than Vladimir Putin, or “Dracula,” as I’ve come to think of him. An orange-blood-sucking-beast who has put a bounty on the heads of our soldiers in Afghanistan.

“What do you think about Vlad, Hal? Does he do it for you, too?”

As if life wasn’t scary enough now, we also have to navigate our way through a minefield rife with explosive personalities who react without thinking. That’s so Trump-like, isn’t it? Just pull the pin and let her rip.

“Snowflake.” That’s a first for me. But, considering the caliber of some of the people flocking toward this platform lately, I shouldn’t be surprised.

For those of you who know me, I hope you take this to heart: I have no problem with someone disagreeing with me. Healthy discourse is what it’s all about. That’s why we’re here. But when you go on the attack, know that I will strike back. I’m not saying it’s right but it’s part and parcel of who I am.

So, in conclusion, I’ll just say this to ole’ Hal:

“Donald J. Trump, a failed reality TV star, and perpetrator of crimes against humanity is not my president and never will be. And, because your ignorance is beyond the reach of rational thought, I almost, but not quite, pity you. So either scuttle back under your rock or take your leader and spare the rest of us by shoving him where the ‘sun don’t shine’.”

Sherry McGuinn is a slightly-twisted, longtime Chicago-area writer and award-winning screenwriter. Her work has appeared in The Chicago Tribune, Chicago Sun-Times, and numerous other publications. Sherry’s manager is currently pitching her newest screenplay, a drama with dark, comedic overtones and inspired by a true story.

If you like this, please check out the other stories denigrating the monster in the White House, below. In no particular order. I hope Hal sees them all.

And one about the Trophy Wife: