WTAF is wrong with people?

Are you really gonna threaten my life because you don’t like what I tweet? Really?

Holy shit — the ammosexual meathead fuckers won, and somehow they’re even angrier now than they were before.

And remember, these are the same donkey-brained shlubs who spent all their insulin money and child support checks on shitty beer just so they could shoot it, or blowtorch it, or run it over, or make out with it, dry hump it, roofie it, slap it’s backside and call it “cousin”, or whatever the fuck other random “own the Libs” redneck ridiculousness they used to make sense of their own irrational “rage” over a single promotional can they claimed was trying to “groom them all into being gay.”

These are people who erected a DIY popup gallows on the Capitol lawn in order to hang mother’s special little Mikey-boy because he wouldn’t break democracy for their orange-Jello-Jesus.

So, when it comes to anger — on a scale of one to taking a baseball bat to a coffee machine they just bought to break, they’re well past “smash-a-Keurig” mad already.

Hell, “DON’T TREAD ON ME” is akin to “Aloha” for these mouth breathing troglodytes.

We’re talking about the kind of left side of the bell curve fuckwits who wake up and binge watch ‘reveal the real baby daddy’ chair tossing/hair pulling stage fights on Maury Povich just to warmup for the Red Bulled-up road rage they’ll invariably unleash in the drop off line of their youngest spawn’s summer Bible school.

And while it might have been nice if post-apocalyptic, Nightmare on Elm Street election from hell, they’d have packed up the family F150-Small-in-the-pants and taken a few weeks off to go rafting in the remote banjo woods of wherever the fuck Georgia they like to “relax”, while giving those of us on team “what the fuck just happened” some time to breathe… that ain’t what they did.

Nope. They’ve only gotten angrier. And it’s not quite the same kind of window licker, IQ of a bedroom slipper, nebulous “cry harder” reply in an app angrier. This is darker. It’s emboldened. It’s menacing. And it’s hell bent on making sure a whole bunch of folks they don’t like (ehem, myself included) pay for what we have “done”, because we had the audacity to disagree with them, vehemently, and frequently, and in some cases, ok maybe in most cases, more than a touch condescendingly.

And if you know me, you know that like punching a MAGA muppet in the nose on Twitter as much as the next guy. Some people unwind with a book, some folks like a nice cup of tea, for others maybe it’s the beach… I get it, I like all of that too. But I also happen to find great comfort in telling those Trump-humping turnips to fuck off. All the way off. Often.

I hop on, remind one of the “yore a fat whore” shidiots that they’re dumber than a bag of mayonnaise, and I walk away. That’s the extent of it.

But they DON’T walk away. They don’t even just come back in the comments. Not any more.

That’s not even close to enough for them now. They’re as enraged as a rabid rat trapped in an empty trashcan at a donut shop, and they want all of us to know it.

They want to frighten their “enemies.” They want us to be afraid. They want us to “learn a lesson” about “running our mouths.” And they’re not gonna let a block on their explode-a-car jumping bean nepo baby’s Nazi hellscape get in the way of them making sure we get the message.

And when that comes to me, it means that they call my cellphone. They leave messages about coming to “fuck me up.” They text me to tell me that I’m the one who is “unhinged.” They send emails so lengthy, so misspelled and so rambling I’d need an illiterate monkey to give me a lobotomy just to decode it partially.

They’ve shared my name, my hometown, my high school yearbook photos from the literal Stone Age, my jobs (the bowling ball brained love that I worked at Sizzler for some random reason), they’ve disclosed every town I’ve ever lived in and a whole bunch that I haven’t. They’ve mentioned my kids, threatened calls to the police, and encouraged the rest of Clan Rage-Jerking Incel to share my private information online.

They want me to feel unsafe. They want me to be afraid. They want me to run away. They want me to be quiet. And they’re pushing the boundaries every day on just how far that means they’re willing to go.

Some have deeply disturbing criminal records of physical violence against women. Some say they “saw me” in my town when they didn’t.

Are these things my favorite things in all the world? I mean, is a root canal without Novacaine anyone’s idea of fun?

This shit sucks, and it sucks hard. And it’s so fucking senseless and stupid. But that doesn’t mean that I don’t take it seriously at the same time. I have all the names, all the screenshots, all the since deleted posts, I’ve logged all of this with the FBI, I’ve filed reports with my local PD, I have called my county prosecutor, and I am readying my home for whatever the fuck kinds of shenanigans these cretins could even fucking consider.

I’m not fucking around, but what I’m also not doing — is backing the fuck down.

They’re emboldened because by the slimmest majority, their bigoted, sexist, racist, rapist, adult-diapered, drag-a-leg, sexual predator, incite an insurrection, convicted felon champion is getting to return to the office he tried to steal. So they “think” that means that THEY too can get away with whatever the fuck kinds of depraved, basement dwelling, snuff film, Pulp Fiction gimp scene fantasy malfeasance they want.

That no matter how utterly unremarkable by every conceivable measure they are, no matter how shitty their job is, no matter how many women dump them, no matter how much hair they lose on top of their head and grow inside their ears, no matter how small their house is, their car is, or their pants are… that they can target, threaten and harass a single mom in Jersey they’ve never met and do not know. Because they’ll have their golden-showered shrine to degeneracy back in OUR house soon enough.

And that means that they get to do whatever the fuck they want.

And they think they’ll take a stab at intimidating that lady on Twitter who uses big words, calls them dumb and swears a lot, that lady they really don’t like but can’t seem to vanquish by conventional, civilized means.

They think they’ll shut me up. They think I’ll stop making them feel bad for all of their failings and inadequacies. That I’ll stop calling their malevolent mango messiah out for his immorality.

But they won’t. And I won’t.

They don’t know me. They don’t know the shit I’ve seen. They don’t know the evil I’ve stared down. They don’t have the first fucking clue as to what I’ve endured, survived and turned into strength. They don’t know what a momma bear will do to protect her cubs. They don’t know what I’ll do if they so much as fucking mention my kids.

They don’t know me, and I don’t owe them shit, but I will do them this one little favor, I’ll give them this one teeny tidbit of advice - if you underestimate me, you’ll do so at your own peril.

Believe me.

I’ve lived far too long, and been through far too much shit to be bullied into silence by those douchebag juice boxes.

I’m going to take their threats seriously, I’m going to turn my home into a fucking fortress, and I’m going to keep right the fuck on punching them, and their cadre of cuckholding masochistic cunts, right in their crippling inferiority complexes, where it hurts them the most.

And then I’m gonna get the fuck back to work making sure my kids grow up in a country where we punish the villains and reward the good guys.

Those losers need to be reminded more than ever, that if they were worthy of respect, they wouldn’t have to go around trying to scare people into giving it to them.

I’m not gonna let those weapons-grade-stupids scare me. Their parents told them they could be anything, and they chose disappointment.

People like them are the reason we have middle fingers. And here in Jersey, that’s our state bird.

So, in closing — for anyone trying to scare me into being quiet right now, this one’s for you. 😘