the loudest visionary. and coalitions.

In just the first ten min­utes I’ve been at this pub, I’ve heard this guy talk about:

•  All the class­es he’s tak­en
•  All the jobs he’s had
•  All the jobs he’s qual­i­fied to do
•  And has stud­ied to do
•  But won’t do (???)
•  And has turned down (!!!)
•  Be­cause rea­sons
•  He needs mon­ey
•  But, he has prin­ci­ples
•  Also, here’s three dozen ter­ri­ble start-up ideas he thinks are ab­solute­ly bril­liant
•  No­body wants to em­brace his vi­sion

I’ve been try­ing to men­tal­ly will his head to ex­plode, but I’m sor­ry to say, it’s not work­ing.

Every­thing that needs to change about so­ci­ety ac­cord­ing to this guy is di­rect­ly re­lat­ed to what he is and isn’t will­ing to do for a job.

He also doesn’t seem to have a smart phone. He’s now loud­ly jok­ing about them be­ing “dumb phones.”

Like, *whips out call­ing card with 8 mins left on it*
 

“You can still cre­ate a so­cial­ist world un­der a cap­i­tal­ist sys­tem!”

He just start­ed talk­ing about Bernie Sanders. Oh my lord.

“That’s how you com­bat this two par­ty sys­tem. Make coali­tions. Make coali­tions of like­mind­ed peo­ple.”

No won­der this mo­ron can’t find a job.
 

God,
now he’s talk­ing about Hillary’s VP choic­es.

Guys, I wish I was mak­ing this up, but I’m not.

I’m not COM­PLETE­LY sure but I *think* this moth­er­fuck­er might have just called Tam­my Duck­worth a “peg leg.”

God,
I hope this guy gets his hand stuck in a toast­er and his foot stuck in a Win­nie the Pooh style ‘hun­ny’ pot and falls ass back­wards out an open win­dow in his un­der­wear.
 

This guy just said peo­ple are dis­en­fran­chised from vot­ing sim­ply be­cause “they don’t feel like it’s im­por­tant to vote.”

Uh, “at­ti­tude” is not an ac­tu­al cause of dis­en­fran­chise­ment.

“I mean, I feel po­lit­i­cal­ly dis­em­pow­ered, but I also don’t get in­volved!” His friend just said this. Oh my god.

Both of these guys are the em­bod­i­ment of every stereo­type and it’s painful.
 

They (FUCK­ING FI­NAL­LY) left a few min­utes ago, but I’m pret­ty sure the mere thought of ANY woman be­com­ing pres­i­dent was enough to make them bris­tle.

I re­al­ly want­ed to start shout­ing in­sane shit:

“WE SHOULD BUILD TINY GUIL­LOTINES FOR THE DICKS OF OUR EN­E­MIES!”
 

I’d like to ded­i­cate this song to that dude:

 

I have aged nu­mer­ous years in the past hour.
 
 

—emi­ly duchaine

Flom­mist Emi­ly Duchaine lives in the Pa­cif­ic North­west. She likes to drink mead, learn about sharks, and lis­ten to the Talk­ing Heads. She pre­tends to be a pro­fes­sion­al busi­ness­woman most days. Copy­right © 2018 Emi­ly Duchaine.

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