This article is from the original Chicano in Paris recently moved here to its new home.
When the United States decided to lose its fucking mind.
Sure, dude is a rapist and a racist and generally a bad human and a terrible business man and he insults those of us who served and he’s a traitor and a coward, but… well, at least he isn’t the black lady?
I know that was a bit of a run-on sentence, but we both know I could have kept going a lot longer than even that.
As I laid there numb talking with my wife - a twenty-six year Air Force retiree - also numb, trying to figure out how a country we love could so openly embrace - AGAIN - a man who hates any american he deems other.
As the day went past and the knot in my stomach subsided it was replaced with anger. I was violently angry in a way I had not anticipated. I was glad to be isolated from most of the world, heading west at a few nautical miles per hour. It kept me safe from my own demons. Aside from one incident that ended with a fan of the Orange Troglodyte™ skulking away dumbfounded and with his feelings a little hurt I was able to remain well behaved.
But I had this excess energy. Anxiety. Something. Someone smarter than I could ever hope to be articulated it best: I felt the way I did when the second plane hit the other tower. That nervous energy mixed with the overwhelming desire to hurt someone.
So I thought, what would Jesus do? and then I thought, well, whipping overly religious cunts and greedy fuckers would likely get me arrested so I had to come up with something else. Then I saw that gif…
I’d seen it a thousand times before and I always, always love it. This time it hit different. Since the election results a whole lotta dumbfucks thought saying things like your body, my choice was hilarious until women decided, nah. But I also saw an opportunity to use this very gif to teach proper punching technique. You see, it turns out a proper punch is just as effective against rape-y assclowns as it is against Nazis.
Of course, turning this gif into an educational how-to lead to Mark-y Z zucking my post and seemingly shadow banning me for a time. Ugh, zuck, no wonder we’re all heading to Bluesky.
Anyway, that’s when it hit me: I need to put this on a shirt. Can’t zuck a shirt!
I made shirts!
It was cathartic. I could make them as nasty as I wanted (trust me, I ended up deleting more than I made) and it felt like I was putting up a middle finger to the Orange Troglodyte™. Are any of my designs going to change the world? Fuck no. Will they irritate the Fuck Your Feelings crowd? That’s the goal.
Now I’m sitting somewhere on a farm in Ohio and in-between eating my MIL’s amazing cooking, I am working on new designs and building proper storefronts in time for the holidays. It turns out it’s a fun, and creative outlet that just might save some Trump-loving motherfucker from me proper techniquing his ass.
If you’re still reading, thanks for reading what I realize now is the blog equivilent of an informercial. Since you’re still reading I will put links to my three storefronts below. Why three? Because I am new at this and I want to try as many as possible til I find the right one that combines my blend of moxy, price, and profit (a boy must eat, after all). And I will likely have some sort of Small Business Saturday deals and then some Cyber Monday stuff.
Store:
Alright awesome nerds, thanks for sticking around. Since yesterday was Thanksgiving (U.S.) I want you all to know that I am incredibly thankful for all of you. You’re beautiful humans and anyone who makes you feel otherwise can fuck all the way off.