With Biden’s choice of Kamala Harris as running mate, the choice we face this November is now crystal clear. On the one hand, we face Trump-Pence: mass suicide. On the other, Biden-Harris: mass self-degradation. In other words, either we die or we live to take a crap on ourselves another day.
Come on America, this is not a tough choice. Biden-Harris 2020.
Some half-forgotten material to inspire you. Continue reading
I went to the doctor yesterday, and had a prostate exam. It’s a really uncomfortable procedure, bordering on painful. You lie there, ass to the doctor. He puts on gloves, then plunges his finger up your ass and twists and turns a bit. Finding nothing in my case, he pronounced me “good to go,” leaving me with a dull ache where, I guess, my prostate is supposed to be.
The blessing about prostate exams is that you only do them once a year, but I’m cursed with having another one scheduled very soon–November 3rd, otherwise known as Election Day. I don’t mean that I have a doctor’s appointment on Election Day. I mean that with Joseph Biden’s selection of Kamala Harris as running mate, Election Day has now become the functional equivalent of a prostate exam. Yes, I will vote for Biden-Harris. Yes, they will probably win. And once I commit this act of self-violation, I’ll be “good to go”. The problem is, I’ll be left with a dull ache where, I guess, my soul is supposed to be. Continue reading