OMFG as if the big beautiful bill of bullshit wasn't freaky enough, motherfuckers around here started blowing shit up on 4th of July EVE / last night / on the day of its passing from the great orange anusface into the world he has commandeered as his personal gold-plated toilet spattered with right wing loose stool head-up-the-ass disease. Yeah, you dumb fucks have got so much to be proud of and look forward to and celebrate: more fires, more destruction, more sound and fury devoid of any meaningful contribution or SENSE. More death and unmanageable levels of disaster. GOOD JOB, DIPSHITS.
Like ... IT'S NOT EVEN THE ACTUALY HOLIDAY YET! Do you REALLY have to start blowing shit up at dinnertime on Thursday the day before?!? Can you fucking WAIT a minute and let us have a couple more hours of of imaginary fucking PEACE before you ejaculate smoke and fire and NOISE all over everyone in hearing range?
Of course, right as I'm on the verge of wishing for these morons to blow their own fingers off, I realize that if I had my own bunch of explosives and a semi-appropriate place to set them off, YOU KNOW I WOULD. I ABSOLUTELY FUCKING WOULD. I would be making so much black powder noise and choking singed-finger sparkler smoke and having a whole disguised-by-my-LLC yacht party super-show of giant sizzling light-up-the-sky pyrotechnic magic, your fucking eyeballs would melt looking my way.
Love/hate relationship: with fireworks. With noise. With this motherfucking country.
