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Dozen worst results of the 2016 presidential election


I am listing the things I find most repugnant about the 2016 presidential campaign, election, Trump, and the Republicans. This is by no means a comprehensive list. The items are in no particular order except for the first one. Each one of these points makes me angry, sick, frustrated, and confused about the country I thought I knew. Today I’ll list them, and in future postings I will discuss my opinion and reasoning. Not all my postings will be political, because that would get boring. But as I don’t expect the Women’s March for America will produce any tangible changes in political policy, I imagine these points will, sadly, remain relevant for a long time to come.

1. Overall demeanor of the campaign and election – crude, misogynist, bullying, hateful people willing to blame Hillary Clinton for everything under the sun. A huge segment of the American people is angry, against what I don’t know. I’m not sure they know. It’s some kind of white rage, I’m thinking. I believe the intelligence level of at least 30 percent of Americans is in the pea range.
2. The ugliness of Donald J Trump, and I’m not talking physical appearance.
3. “Never Trump” – what happened to that? Where are the decent, centrist Republicans? Apparently there aren’t any. Only sniveling, spineless, unpatriotic cowards need apply to the Republican Party.
4. Trump’s appointments, a scary and immoral group of ultra rich, naturally, who will stop at nothing to dismantle and tear down anything that takes their profits away.
5. Treatment of the press, Twitter and the rise of fake news, and the legitimization of the ultra right wing KKK and Neo Nazis – You’re comfortable that these people support you? What does that say about you?
6. New and approved treatment of women – the infuriatingly sexist pussy factor. Rapists, assaulters, batterers, harassers everywhere, celebrate your newfound freedom! See my posting PC MANIFESTO under MAD RAVINGS. Bet you can’t guess what PC stands for?
7. The Wall, Mexicans, and Muslims – fascist treatment of anyone who is not white, born in this country, English speaking, or Christian.
8. Campaign to repeal the Affordable Care Act – racist Obama-hatred pure and simple.
9. Defunding of Planned Parenthood and real threat to Roe v. Wade – women deserve health care options including reproductive choice and yes, abortion.
10. Attack on public schools. Are we kidding? This is the lowest of the low.
11. Climate change is NOT a hoax! The world would be laughing at you, except it’s not funny.
12. The Electoral College. Most biased political mechanism invented since gerrymandering. The vast majority held hostage by hillbillies. Help!


Violent Night, Unholy Night


It was more than eight years ago now. That violent, unholy, faithless night; the night that my daughter was brutally attacked and left for dead. Yes, left for dead on the streets of San Francisco, skull cracked open, pool of blood on the sidewalk. The night she was robbed on her way home from a celebration dinner. The night someone beat her with a bat or a pipe, split her head open, and ran away with her purse. Stole her seventeen dollars, credit cards, cellphone, camera. Probably a drug addict, the police said. They have no morality. They care about nothing but themselves and their next fix.

She was beaten down for no better reason than her impudent belief she had the right to walk down a city sidewalk alone. How naïve, not to better know her place.

Why a miracle came to pass, I don’t know. But it happened. My strong and fearless daughter rose from her unconsciousness. She stumbled her way to a police station nearby. She asked for a tissue; she’d be okay if she just got a tissue. That’s all she remembers. The police said they saw gray matter coming from her head. She was soaked in blood. I picked up her clothing from the hospital days later. Even her shoes were covered in blood. There was so much of it on the sidewalk that the police later got an anonymous call, someone reporting that there must have been a murder for all the blood.

In the trauma center at the hospital, angels in the form of doctors and their medical team performed emergency surgery on her brain. Her skull had been cracked into tiny shards that were driven into the brain tissue. They removed a large part of her brain to get the pieces of bone out. (We saw the x-ray in a follow up visit; a large, frightening, empty place where brain matter used to live.) They told us at the time that the largest pieces of remaining skull bone were cobbled together with tiny screws. Just a few months ago, she had complications and had another x-ray taken. The surgeons hadn’t told us what the x-ray revealed: seven metal plates in her head, holding her skull together.

And her eye socket was cracked where her head hit the pavement. One entire side of her face was dropped, the swollen eye bulging out like a gigantic purple golf ball, neck and muscle distress, ugly black sutures, surgical scar stapled across half her head. The pain that my daughter went through in the first week after the attack was unbearable to witness. Luckily, she doesn’t remember it. I do. I recall the sight of her in that hospital bed, the roller coaster of agony, the sleepless torture of it all. The worry that she might not survive. That she might have seizures; that she might lose language, memory, mental or physical function. The months of painful recovery. Her life as a young adult on hold.

We were so incredibly lucky. Because she lived. And over time, she regained all her strengths and health. She is normal and happy, beautiful and well, a fully functioning human being who has moved on with her life without bitterness or anger toward the unknown person who assaulted her for the sake of her riches, all seventeen dollars of them.

But I am not so forgiving. I am not understanding. I won’t erase the images in my mind. Even loving, well-meaning relations cannot comprehend the terror. It was a violent night, an unholy night, a night to test the faith of even the most devout. And I am not one of the faithful. I have love, I have hope. But I do not have faith.

still the fear


you full of fuckin shit man. where you get off bein so noble? go fuck those asses. you know you want to. you don’t fool me. you just itchin for a fight so you can say you did you piece and it was me who wanted it over. you oh so noble, man. what, you done with me? how long you been bored to screamin? those bitches who want a piece o you ass, go get em. go get em, i say. don’t hang round here. you know you scared, you fearful. you so fuckin fearful. still that fear, man. drop that noble ass pretense o love. love is bullshit. you know what you want. girl here, girl there, girl in the bushes, girl with legs wrapped tight round you neck. go get it. i’m no fool, i know you been playin me. lose the act. come round to what you really want. fear go way when you get what you want. go fuck them round asses, boy. go do it. still the fear.

snake pit


whoa. there be somethin crazy going round this day. man say, speak you mind, everyone important, everybody get a vote. no one so high his voice count more. everybody be the same. every snake in the pit be the same. so why you go and change the rules? why you think you better? where it say you better and we be trash? where you get nerve enough to walk out on us? like we be nothin, and you be the only man who counts. you know, the snakes, we be slippery. we all be slippery. we all be hungry, need to eat. we got fangs just like you. you watch youself and you ugly slippery behind. you watch you slithering bad ass. we know the rules and we be familiar with the pit. you can’t say we ain’t familiar with the pit, man. no need to be stupid. you been caught. you slinking slime games be over.

PC Manifesto




In the furtherance of life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness for all mankind, I, Master President Daniel J. Tramp, do hereby decree that the following reasonable and irrevocable rules and regulations be made mandatory as of January 20, 2017:


All women from the age of twelve (12) shall be considered pussy cunts. All pussy cunts shall be the legal and physical property of men, and shall be treated as such. The U.S. Constitution and any and all privacy laws from any source shall not apply to pussy cunts.


Boys become men at the age of twelve (12), with all rights and responsibilities thereof.

All prior laws regarding rape, sexual assault, sexual harassment, or any other unreasonable law in regard to sexual violence shall hereby be null and void. All men who are in custody for violation of said antiquated and unreasonable laws shall be released from custody, and provided with a 12 year old pussy cunt sexual slave for the same number of months or years as the gentlemen were incarcerated or otherwise punished.

No man shall be punished for violence against any pussy cunt, under the well-founded premise that pussy cunts deserve what they get.

Men who are found having sexual relations with any child under age 12, including but not limited to their own daughters, shall not be punished but rather shall be sent for sensitivity counseling.

Boys from the age of six (6) and all men shall have the right to own and bear arms for their own protection; for the safety and security of their property; and against all hostile intention whether from internal dispute or alien invasion. There shall be no limit to the number of said arms owned per man.

Any man found to have engaged in sexual activity with another man shall be shown no mercy, and shall be sent to the nearest local militia for immediate destruction, as this is clearly an affront to our Nation and to Almighty God.


For the safety and security of all mankind, all pussy cunts with brown, black, or mixed race skin shall immediately be sent to gas chambers located in the southern states. Gas chambers are in the process of being rush ordered, negotiated and built by our master negotiator and tradesman, Master President Tramp. Disposals shall be conducted with a deadline of July 3, 2017, with the intent that our Nation’s Independence Day be celebrated without concern for public safety.

For the mental well being of all mankind, all pussy cunts falling into the following conditions shall be sent to said gas chambers: all pussy cunts over age 35; those without the requisite leg length to attract men; and all those with an IQ over 100. Disposal deadline for this second phase shall be December 23, 2017, so that our Nation may observe Our Lord’s Birthday Celebration Christmas Eve holiday with content and good cheer.

For the continuing sexual pleasure of all mankind and in order to preserve maximum eye appeal to men, effective immediately, all other pussy cunts shall dye their hair blonde and grow it to shoulder length or longer.

Pussy cunts shall not be allowed to own arms, or to bear arms unless used specifically as sexual entertainment for men.

Pussy cunts shall be required to eat only enough to survive, in order to keep their figures girlish and attractive to men.

Pussy cunts shall wear clothing that appeals to men. All decisions on female clothing and range of public or private nudity shall be made by men.

Pussy cunts may speak out loud only in response when requested by a man or boy, and otherwise may not speak. Any pussy cunt found in violation of this rule shall be forcibly required to provide blow jobs to said men and boys. A second violation of the keep-mouth-shut-except-when-giving-blow-jobs rule shall result in being sent to a local militia. Recognizing that this may be a flash point for implementation of the law, and that local militia may not be well enough equipped to handle the load, well-trained firing squads and appropriate facilities are in the process of being rush ordered, negotiated and built by our master negotiator and tradesman, Master President Tramp.

All pussy cunts are subject to whatever male attention they attract without objection. No pussy cunt shall deny any man or boy, or group of men or boys, any form of sexual indulgence. Any violation of this rule shall result in the firing squad.  When in public, pussy cunts shall walk quietly with their heads down and eyes modestly looking at the path of travel. However, upon command of any man or boy, a pussy cunt shall perform any requested act gladly and without shyness.

Pussy cunts may engage in sexual activity with other pussy cunts only with the approval of their husbands or owners, and only for the express purpose of entertainment and titillation of men.


As marriage is a God-given sacrament, men may marry as many pussy cunts as they can afford to support. Pussy cunts have no rights to object or approve of marriage.

Pussy cunts may not work for a living outside the home, unless in the sex trade or entertainment business, and only with the approval of their husbands.

As birth is a God-given sacrament, pregnant pussy cunts shall bring all fully legal human beings inside them to full term, regardless of health of the child or medical danger to the mother pussy cunt. All so-called miscarriages shall be thoroughly investigated, and any pussy cunt found to have self-induced a miscarriage shall be sent to the firing squad. Should the miscarriage be found valid, the husband shall have the right to divorce or send the mother pussy cunt to a local militia, under the well-founded premise that God is showing His displeasure with the female.

Pussy cunts are charged with the upbringing of children to age 12, at which time girls are established as pussy cunts, and boys as men. All decisions on said upbringing of children, however, reside with the dominant male in the household.

Under no circumstances shall a pussy cunt be allowed to continue her education. At age 12, any pussy cunt determined to have an IQ over 100 shall be sent to the gas chamber.

At age 35, pussy cunts shall be rendered useless to society and shall be sent for disposal to a gas chamber.

A married man may divorce his pussy cunt without any stated reason. Should a divorce occur, the pussy cunt shall be auctioned off to the highest bidder, with negotiated proceeds going to Master President Tramp.


Highly desirable pussy cunts, particularly the youngest and tallest, shall be corralled and shipped to Master President Tramp for the entertainment of himself and his friends and colleagues.


As all valid historical documents clearly indicate, our sacred Nation of America was founded exclusively by white, Christian, English speaking men who valiantly and courageously fought the Devil in all its forms. Therefore, the following rules apply, effective immediately and irrevocably:

The United States of Amerika shall forever remain a White Christian Nation.

Under no circumstances shall any person, male or female, speak or write in a tongue other than American English. Master President Tramp shall soon provide each man with a new dictionary of approved terms.

Under no circumstances may any person, male or female, refer to blessed Christmas by wishing another a “Happy Holiday,” under penalty of death. The term “Christmas” shall always be used reverentially by writing and/or speaking it in full without the blasphemous abbreviation of “Xmas.”

The term “Christian” shall be used interchangeably with the word “good” and shall have the same meaning.

By authoritarian decree, this 20th day of January, 2017, signed under oath to our Almighty Christian God,

Master President Daniel J. Tramp


Inciting Violence


It’s incredibly sad to me that I wrote this post long ago, and yet now with the election from hell, we are even worse off. Still can’t believe this is our country…

The news last week about the US Congresswoman from Arizona and those around her who were shot by a mad man is weighing me down. I watched on TV the speech by President Obama at the memorial service. Six people died, one a child, all innocent people whose only mistake was to be in that ‘wrong’ place. Innocent people who wanted to hear what a duly elected official, exercising her freedom of speech and assembly, had to say. President Obama spoke magnificently about the tragedy, doing honor to those who were killed and those who helped save. He said we need to be the kind of world that that child thought we were and expected us to be. He spoke profoundly and made me proud he is our president.

It goes beyond irony that the child who died was born on September 11, 2001. Is there any doubt the killer is mad? How could he do such a thing if he were not? That may mean that the suicide bombers of the past decades, the terrorists of today’s world, kamikaze pilots of yesterday, are all mad too. Are they? Or are we living in a world where violence has been elevated to a political art form? Where it’s just a matter of creating the right language, the most vitriolic propaganda, and finding charismatic leaders to deliver the hatred to an ignorant and brainwashed population. I believe this is happening now in our country with the Tea Party. I fear that the Tea Party has identified such methods to suit their purposes which are to incite fear and violence. They are using the imagery of guns, shooting, and targets to deliver their messages. Once the message is out, all it takes is a mentally unbalanced person to act on it.

I don’t use the word shame very often, but I say shame on the Tea Party for not acknowledging that she is part of the problem, perhaps a very large and important part. Shame on our country for allowing anyone to get a gun and ammunition, with so little control that children are shooting children regularly. Where fathers videotape their own children shooting semi automatic weapons, and in one recent case, watching as the child blows his own head off. Where the word ‘liberal’ is used as an invective and encouragement to put a politician in the ‘crosshairs’. Where this rhetoric is defiantly supported by Tea Party and yes, some Republican party members too, as merely symbolic. IT ISN’T SYMBOLIC, IT’S INCITING VIOLENCE.

Language hurts. And violence is real. What about that don’t you get?

This is a passage from my book PERSEPHONE IN HELL. Glory’s father, Herb, has had a stroke and has weakened significantly in every way. Glory is an immature and troubled teen; she has stopped respecting her father. She knows only the bare bones about his past, that he’d served as a medic on the beach of Normandy on D Day and received a lot of medals. She couldn’t know his long remembered despair.

“Herb endured a long period of surgeries and recuperation to restore his health. He was awarded many medals of honor from the army. He received among others, a Purple Heart, a Bronze Star, and a Silver Star for his bravery. There was only one higher medal that could have been bestowed. Herb was a war hero among war heroes.

But all he could think of were the men he hadn’t saved. A real hero would have gone out again. A real man would have risked his life to save a good kid like Carl, a buddy like Max. They were his men, truly his real family, and you do for your family.

He took his box of medals home. He showed them to his Mama and Pop, who were proud of him and overjoyed to have him home. He showed them to his favorite sister Miriam, and to all his brothers and sisters. He showed them to Joyce, his girl, who kissed him and agreed to marry him after a time.

Then Herb took his box of hard earned, well deserved medals of honor and stuck them in his dresser drawer. He never took them out again. He never, ever mentioned the war again in his life.”


Gentlemen, beware


Beware, my friends
We watch you
We study you
We read your words for authenticity
We observe your taste for inflicting violence
We notice your pretending attitudes
We see your covered barbarism
Your guarded sentiment
Your arrogant judgment
Your disrespect
Your falsehood
Your condescension
Your pomposity
Your dislike
Your hate
Your crude objectifying mocking
Your ugly baseness

Gentlemen, make no mistake
We watch
We see
We comprehend.


Wild. Jammed. My mind is crammed, man. Packed, overcrowded. Thoughts, sardines lined up in a can. Smelly mackerel, gefilte fish feelings.  Pink salmon slalom run emotion. Tuna and olive oil filled and slammed. Tin can. Tin pan. Alley wrinkled, exotic vision. Bursting dirt dreams. High expectations. Low return. Low road goes nowhere. High road won’t exist. Just pave it over. Crazy baby, psycho child. Surreal moment, heavy lifting, arms get tired from so much strain. Strained intention, whispered hate. I’m just tired, that’s all. Don’t ask. Expect nothing. My feelings are my own business, not yours. Detach. Attach. Bother, don’t bother. It matters not. Take what you will. Crazy. Crazed. Jammed. Jam, jam candy man. Expect nothing.

Down My Mangled Mind


Down my mangled mind
You haunt the reaches
Of each tear
Each cut
Each bruising wound
You force the memories

Down my mangled breast
Your shrieking breath awaits
Scorching wind

Down my mangled hip
I fear your wrath
Punishing, blistering fright

Down my mangled thigh
You ease up
It’s cool
I try

Down my mangled foot
We start again
Hold me close
Loop back
To that stained mind
That grey cut
That unforgettable dismal place
Open, sucking torment