The Choice Is Yours

Here we are again. It seems like this is the place we always end up. The democratic nominee is disappointing and the republican in is a racist, misogynist, xenophobic, assho... you know what you get it. I think we've set back the clock to 2016. I've been peering into the circular motion of history. It's boomeranged back around and hit me in the goddamn face.

I'll take lackluster over dangerous though. I'll take sleepy over hatred. Who wants to make America Great again. It's lore has been written on the backs of blacks like scars. The land was bought with the blood of the indigenous. Anything less than white was punished. Sent to "eat in the kitchen" like Langston said. I too, have never sung America. It doesn't sing for me. It's never happy at my presence. I'm the kidnap victim who is hated because I was kidnapped. Victim blaming on epic proportions. But I digress. America has never been great for me or anyone who shares my face. So choice, in this instance, is merely an illusion. As the great philosopher Jay-Z has said: feelin' like my hand was forced, middle finger to law nigga gripping my balls.

So hands off the family jewels and on the problem. You could get with this or you could get with that. It's a precarious situation. You have to deal with the idiot on the throne, but the hopeful predecessor doesn't inspire confidence. George Bush looks like a Mensa candidate right now. Even if the war against hatred is won, getting him out of the White House seems like a tall order. How do you evict a president? Don't worry, I'll wait.

So choice has transformed to duty. People with my amount of pigmentation have an obligation. But of course, the choice is yours.