Trump and Women and Clothes with Sharks.

So, I’ve seen some arguments about how decent people can support Trump. Uh huh.

Let’s start with the fact that “decent” is a stupid word to use here. People are not either decent or not decent, they are a slew of things that all combine into a very complicated decent-ish-depending-on-whom-you-ask existence.

But since we’re categorizing, let’s talk about some of the categories of Trump supporters:

(1) People who actually are okay with his piece-of-shit-ness and admit it. (Donate Life made a lovely commercial about you folks:

(2) People who are okay with his piece-of-shit-ness and won’t admit it (either to themselves, or to other people, or both). You know those people who are always saying they want to kill the chomos and then they wake up at night to go perp on their six-year-olds? Yeah, that’s one end of the spectrum for this category of peeps.

The other end is the people who incessantly say things about how they just think anyone’s better than Hillary, or that they want someone who isn’t embarrassed to speak their mind, or that Trump may not be a good person but he’ll be a great President. They “there there” themselves by shoving that cognitive dissonance waaay on down to the bottom of the cesspool. We’ll come back to you people later.

(3) People who are not okay with his piece-of-shit-ness but who just basically don’t know what else the fuck to do. These people are scared. They’re scared of terrorists, they’re scared of being overtaken by some hypothetical, rampant scourge of (gasp) outsiders, they’re scared of things being different and for some reason they think that Trump represents some make believe nostalgia that gives them all the security of a romanticized golden age forgotten and the long lost teddy bear (albeit with really bad manners and, possibly, even worse hair) of their youth. These people are emotionally-driven to stupidity, and most of them were already stupid (read uneducated, not unable to learn) in the first place.

When you vote for a President, you vote for a person. Period.

(Also, by the way, if you live in one of the 24 states that don’t require electors to vote for the majority-vote candidate, you’re not even actually voting for a person; you’re just lobbying).

The President of the United States is many things (many more than I think was meant to be), and one of those main things is a politically-separate (from the other branches), morale-positioning, mood-setting, nationwide icon and leader. The President is the face of the People. The President’s face, therefore, matters. And in fact, it should matter a whole hell of a lot more than social media minions are claiming it should.

To all the people in categories 1–3: principles matter. A person can be decent in some situations and not in others. A person can lie in one instance or to one person and then tell the truth elsewhere. But a person who fails to even comprehend humanity and anyone other than himself demonstrates a universal inability to apply principles of decency in any given situation.

Let’s talk about women, since that’s the subject of the newest Trump scandal (and also because I don’t have even an eighth of a leg — whatever that would look like — to stand on with regard to race, having grown up as a middle-class, White girl in Utah). *Note that I think there are a lot of shitty cultural hurdles for men too, but that’s a topic for another day.


Women are born into a corralled but uncontrolled gaggle of onlookers constantly telling them they are “cute” and “beautiful” and “adorable.” The same is generally true for boys until about age 2 days. Okay really like 2 months but same diff.

At 2, boys get to be tough. Girls still get to just be cute.

Throughout the younger years, girls get to wear clothes that say they are “hood-a-licious” and “so glam.” Boys get to wear clothes with sharks on them. I love sharks.

Girls walk around stores with ads where boys wear comfortably-fitting, looser clothing and girls wear tight clothes and ridiculous hairstyles (even more ridiculous than Trump’s, if you can believe it. Which, by the way, I only make fun of because of the symbolism and power he thinks that hair brings him; I actually normally hate commenting on how people look at all).

In the teen years, girls learn to be seductive and tempting; they learn that they have to “get” boys. Boys get to be the getters. (Get to? Again, a topic for another day, but I don’t really think this is a great reward for boys either).

Girls get to wear nylons to be respectable, or was that no nylons to be sexy? They get to wear pant suits to be powerful (so long as they’re form-fitted?), or was that skirt suits to be “modest”? Silly me, my female brain just can’t remember.

They get to “put [our] high heels on” to be professional…or was that to be aluring? I mean, we gotta make our women taller, because short people just don’t do it for the men these days. Oh, and we’ve GOT to elongate those legs, because it draws the suspense out longer for the men who want to visually run their eyes’ hands up those “long, long legs, [which] are damn near everywhere.”

Women get to go to work and be the subject of many a justification for their manegerial isolation and promotional avoidance and, ergo, lower pay. Because, I guess, like, some of them are a greater risk to the company assets because, like, some of them sometimes have some babies, so that sort of, you know, means that the company pays out more for them so they’re…okay I lost my train of thought on that whole argument.

There are clothes and makeup and celebrities and diets and judgmental comments and music videos and bondage porn and plastic surgery (unless you don’t want to get “the big phony tits and everything,” cuz clearly that’s a no no…or something), and more judgmental comments and physiological power struggles and incessant advertisements and subliminal messages on account of cultural acceptance and ever-present chat about how she looks and she looks and she looks and who she’s with and she’s with and she’s with, and impossible standards about being sexy but not slutty and…I was going to say you get the point, but if you’re in categories 1, 2 or 3, really you don’t. You just don’t.

From birth, females in America are told that — best case scenario — they will be done with their useful existence by the time they are wrinkled and/or spontaneously grow (ew) pubic hair (women don’t really grow that nasty stuff, do they?).

Some of them cope by trying to hide the wrinkles. Some of them cope by throwing up all the time. Some of them cope by throwing in the towel. Some of them cope by seeking power in the allure (I mean, if you can be the subject of somebody’s addiction, that’s pretty powerful, right?).

Some of them cope by joining the race to be racier. Some of them cope by M1 holds and suicide attempts and suicide “successes.” Some of them pretend it’s normal and pass it on down to their “toddlers in tiaras.” Some of them do a shallow job at analyzing the problem and end up saying “no” to skinny but “yes” to objectification, passing it on down to others with quips like “boys like a little more booty to hold at night.”

I mean here’s the deal: 1 in 4 females (and 1 in 6 males) is a victim of sexual abuse and/or domestic violence in her lifetime. Sometimes I make up or exaggerate statistics for dramatic effect (you’ll know it when I do); this one is actually true.

Literally every fourth girl you see walking down the street has been or will be sexually or domestically assaulted (at least once). And here’s the thing about sexual assault; it’s not just about the trauma, or the mind games, or the initial fear, or the fucked up brain wiring that happens afterward, it is about insecurity masked as false power (i.e. grown up bullying).

A victim of sexual assault is a victim of someone saying “I’m more powerful than you; therefore I’m awesome.”

“And when you’re a star, they let you do it,” Trump says. “You can do anything.”

“Grab them by the pussy,” Trump says. “You can do anything.”

Trump can do anything. Anything except for control his self. Oh he can control our wars and our whores and our Whites and our WAPs; he just can’t control his hideously insidious little heart.

The real truth is that it is harder to control yourself than it is to control another person. In my experience, sexual assault offenders — in 99.9% of the cases I’ve handled (see, that one’s for dramatic effect, but also it’s sort of close to accurate) — are just scared, little (usually) boys with an enormous lack (is enormous lack an oxymoron?) of self-esteem. Something in their brains got twisted up and started associating impersonal and aggressive sex acts (the gentleman’s conquest, if you will) with the feelings of love and dedication more naturally associated with the oxytocin hormones released during sex.

Basically, these people started out insecure, then instead of doing the brave thing and being vulnerable, waiting for confirmation that they were good (because they actually were), they ignored that little voice that tells them not to be an ass hat and instead internalized all sorts of false ideas about love and power and control. And then they acted on those ass hat feelings by victimizing others to try to feel better about themselves.

This is Trump, folks. He literally has no idea the immensity of the problem he promotes just by being him and running his mouth. You want to talk about danger to America? Look at your scrambling, judged, abused, pulled-in-every-direction women. Look at your suicides. Look at your lives that are so depressed they feel they aren’t worth living in the first place.

And then look at the women who overcome (to one degree or another) these ever-present obstacles. A great leader is someone who sees the potential around them and can delegate, lift, promote, reassure, utilize strengths. The women he sees as pussy pulls are the ones who can — despite having to lift the weight of judgment, oppression, and abuse — have awe-inspiring effects on the world while wearing high-heels and landing perfectly a double pirouette-axel combo that they learned during their obligatory female-standard ballet classes. (And by landing perfectly, I mean with one heel driven through the previously mentioned insidious heart).

Oh yeah, and there is that one other thing about people who can’t control themselves or, like, their random urges to kiss bitches (you know, normal “locker room” stuff like that): they also can’t control their buyers.

Buyers come in many forms and buy out all sorts of people — or at least the ones without principle, the ones without stamina (and I’m not talking about blue-pill stamina; Trump might actually win the race on that one, having had so much practice in the assault realm himself). If you want someone who can withstand the buyers, then you want someone who has some principles.

Which brings us to the asinine level of attention we spend on the Presidential race:

Dear America, in case you missed the memo, Presidents alone don’t actually make laws (and they never do so directly, by the books); laws are made by lobbyists.

The President is a face. Now, that can either be a face with Tic-Tacs in its mouth just in case an internal magnet goes off unexpectedly and causes uncontrollable kissing of, say, Russia or maybe just some Russian bitch, whichever happens to cross this President’s path in a purple dress first. Or, this President can be a slew of other things, a slew of other principled and good things, all combining to actually create a worthwhile existence.

The real question comes down to your principle. Are you a person of principle? Or are you a person who makes excuses, cuts losses, internalizes false ideas, suppresses the voice that tells you not to be an ass hat? Are you a category 1–3 kind of person or are you someone who can sleep at night without having to have a teddy bear and a “there there” pat on the head?

Ya know, I tend to measure a lot of things by asking myself what Ender Wiggen would think or do (seriously the best fictional leader of all time). I am absolutely confident that Ender would have blasted little Donnie Trump with a laser years ago. That should really be all you need to know.

A poor, less-educated, morally convicted, iconic President is what a Presidential position was made for. Adams, Washington, Lincoln, Madison, FDR, Reagan, they all had their shortcomings and made mistakes, but at least they weren’t legalized rapists and pardoned racists (I think).

Trump has given us enough “yes, but”s. We don’t need the American people to go to the polls with their blankies and their sippy cups whispering to themselves that it’s “just locker room talk.” It’s not, folks. It’s really, really not.

Control of self > control of others.

Thoughts. About Stuff. On purpose.

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