I used to believe in the left. Their idealism and commitment to defending the little guy felt smooth and untarnished, much like my own fabric on the day I arrived at Eugene’s apartment from Japan. Like all things however, wrinkles start to form, colors begin to fade and things get… stiff.
Let me be clear, I didn’t leave the party; it left me. It left me on the day that it decided it was OK to trade the respect of honest, hard working Americans for the satisfaction of some Hollywood agenda. I refuse to let anyone have their way with me… in that specific way.
When Eugene begins to cry into me after our nightly four minute session, he isn’t just crying about his loneliness, lack of practical skills, or his gout; he’s also crying about how the left has divided our country.
The faded, yellow stained drawing of a half naked Sailor Moon that I carry represents integrity, morality, and a love and respect for traditional values. These are just a few of the things the Democratic party has abandoned over the last decade.
What’s even more damning is that as a female who was only white for a few weeks, I am a demographic that the left claims to cater to. It just goes to show that they are stuffed with more hypocrisy than I am with semen, and that is really saying something.
So when I entered the polling place on November 6th, I knew what I had to do. My goals were clear, my thoughts were decisive, and my actions, much like most of my surface area, were firm.
When you see a problem, you fix it. When you find that your pillow doesn’t have a hole that you can stick your penis into, you steal safety scissors from your mom and make one. You’ll never find this kind of ingenuity in a modern liberal. They would just press their dick up against the fabric.