So the motherfucker who molested me when I was a child, is dead.
The childhood friend who shared this information with me, couldn’t find out how, or where he died, just that it happened 10 years ago. Personally, my hope was, he was dropped out a 30th floor window, head first, by — I dunno — maybe the adult version of someone like, oh, say, me!
I also found out, the father of another neighborhood child — this one a girl — actually confronted the fuck’s father when he found out what happened to his daughter (I never told my parents — how could I? I’d suppressed the fucking memories). But for a while, I felt good about all this.
It doesn’t change what happened then, nor does it change the other things that have happened to me, since. But the bastard who started it all is, and has been dead for 10 years. That’s closure, right. I feel better.
No, I really don’t.
When I started writing about this last week, all the new realizations and memories, I thought, this is good, I’m purging. I’m getting all this out of my system. The only problem is, I live in a country that just put a mother fucking molester and rapist wannabe, who they all fucking knew was guilty of the crimes he’s been accused of — they all know he actually perjured himself in front of Congress. So what did these noble statesman and woman do? They put this cock-sucking, son-of-a-bitch on the goddamn Supreme Court of the United Fucking States of America!!! Not only did they put him where he has no business being, they actually started blaming the victims for putting this poor, ignorant, temperamental, over-privileged, white piece of shit, through such a traumatic hearing.
And, why? What’s the real reason behind all this? To help Republicans — many, more corrupt than the newly annointed, Supreme molester — to pass the kind of laws they want. Laws that will set this country back 50 years — if not more! Laws that feed the rich and starve the poor. Laws that strip rights away from any group who isn’t them! And let’s not forget that all-time-favorite reason (the actual reason this incompetent was nominated in the first place) — because Brett Mother-Fucking Kavanaugh, will protect his fellow molester, the orange fuck, sliming his way around the White House, with a Get Out of Jail Free card, because, you know — you can’t indict a sitting president.
That person (and I use the word “person” with the greatest of contempt), in Kavanaugh’s feeble,
narcissistic, partisan swamp of a mind, is ABOVE THE FUCKING LAW!!!! In a country where everyone is supposedly “equal” (what a croc that is!), let’s watch as they demonstrate just how big a pile of bullshit our system of “justice” is, by demonstrating the most vile, corrupt, contemptible, disgusting excuse for a human being to ever sit in the Oval Office, is so busy doing “the people’s work,” he can’t possibly face the same laws that every other person in this country does (at least, the ones not in orange jump suits).
So, yeah. I felt better for about 10 minutes. Now, like the millions of women, and other men like me, around the country, I feel violated all over again. And this time, it’s 100 times WORSE! Because this time, a bunch of people sitting in Congress, along with that piece of walking, talking shit in the White House, stopped any real attempt at an F.B.I. investigation, and brazenly told the American people to go fuck themselves! This country belongs to them, not us. We have to follow the rules; not them! And what did the mainstream American media do — same thing they usually do — not a goddamn, motherfucking thing! The NY Times sat on a story about Twitler’s criminal lifetime in NYC for months, released it, and then — like magic, it disappeared! Why? Because like the rest of the corporate American media, they jumped on the “hey people, go fuck yourselves!” bandwagon. Lookee here — we got us a brand new Supreme Court Justice!
So no, I’m not outraged. I’m well beyond despair. I crossed anger a few miles back, and am now living in a pure unadulterated homicidal rage! And if this rage — which I’ll be taking into the ballot box with me, later this month, or in the pieces I’ll continue to write so maybe, just maybe, SOMEONE out there may actually hear me — doesn’t have the effect I pray it will, then you can Ghandi me, or tell me how we need to be above it, or better than them, all you like.
But if you even think of uttering any of those phrases, or any other stupid fucking phrases of pacification my way, be forewarned — you’re also going to be one of the first people to see what I’ll be capable of, if this homicidal rage, burning my heart, mind and soul, grows any fucking deeper, and more intense, than it already has.