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Personal Election Rant

Look at the whole campaign, all of it. The primaries, the general election, the exit polls. This was a wholesale backlash of the behavior of BOTH parties. This was 20+ years of pent up anger at how at-ease both the Democrat and Republican parties have become– two bodies pointing fingers at the other side of the isle to blame for a crumbling infrastructure, a shameful education system, the revolting excuses for healthcare systems and their unmanageable costs. Worst of all,  being loyal to partisanship over the people rather than acting like civilized adults and working together.

Do you think Trump’s victory last was only against Clinton. No. Not even close. He single-handedly destroyed over a dozen Republican candidates, a few of which were the epitome of the Republican establishment. He humiliated both major parties, both of which I can still recall my Political Science professor vehemently stating are “so institutionalized that it would be impossible to win the Presidency without.”

And how did he win?

I’ve personally lost my insurance thanks to being unable to afford it after it has raised nearly $150 more a month in the past 3 years. The number of insurers still under Obamacare in my state have dwindled to a point that if were any other industry on Earth, it would considered a monopoly. My town’s largest employer has been a fucking Wal-Mart for the past 14 years after both parties ensured that manufacturing jobs had more cost-efficient nations to relocate to. My state is nearly dead last in SAT scores and college-bound graduates. The average student debt, something that I vividly remember both parties swearing they would fix since the Dole-Clinton election, is $30,000 in my state alone. An average of 1.5 million students from my state ALONE are in debt after finishing what is supposed to be the very thing that strengthens financial security. The median income in my county is $2,000 below the state poverty line, never mind how much further away it is from the national poverty line. And that’s just the tip of the ineludible iceberg wrought from the callously insouciant rhetoric and laws both parties have made from the relatively small time I’ve been alive. This– all of what I just wrote was a product of both parties.

I’m a millennial. I’m a lifelong Liberal Democrat as well. In stereotype alone, I should be chanting the same “it was sexism, it was racism” tune. The narrative would insist that I would be absolutely inconsolable, wondering, “How did this happen?”

And that right there is the problem. The Narrative. Both sides, from the most ardent right-wingers to the staunchly liberal, have become obsessed with the narrative. For as long as I can remember watching political news, the narrative of our side is right, their side is wrong has DOMINATED every. single. issue. Both parties tow the line, never question or criticize their own mistakes. They never take one second to indulge the prospect that their own failures are entirely because of their own toxic, divisive narratives, hell-bent on pitting red against blue, white against black, and state against state without a single moment of hesitation at the harm they’re inflicting. And every four years it’s the same promises, the same excuses, the same finger-pointing to the other side of the isle. The narrative has been the same since I was born.

And I’m sick of it. People were sick of it.

People were sick of being told who they should hate or who hates them. Who they should be afraid of or who is afraid of them. People were sick of identity politics, of being told they are inherently some pejorative label for having a different opinion even within their own political or social community. They were sick of being told they if they fit under any of these utterly superficial labels, regardless of a majority or minority label, then they must adhere to a single mode of thought lest they be traitors to their own people. They were sick of tribalism. They were sick of “you are this, so you must be that”. And perhaps most consequently of all, they were fucking sick of the lack of self-criticism in an abundance within BOTH sides of the political spectrum.

I’ve personally witnessed human-fucking-beings of every race, creed, and gender be gleefully branded with worst scarlet letters this generation has to offer for supporting Trump, or Sanders in the primaries for that matter, or just for simply saying “We can do better than any of them”. I’ve seen bullying and demagoguery of such a tortuous and varied implementation, I truly wonder if the spirit of Tomas Torquemada is green with envy at how we’ve been led to behave. And these human beings? Their reasons for supporting their candidates were never considered. All that mattered was the narrative provided the label, complacency provided the hysteria, and not an ounce of humanity was spared to look beyond it, to communicate, or compromise in spite of it before the witch hunt began.  And I saw this being meted out not just by one person, but by a foaming-at-the-mouth mob of self-appointed inquisitors on BOTH sides that I’d sooner expect to see brandishing the Malleus Maleficarum than the Bill of Rights.

Yet, that wasn’t the worst of it. When I saw the side of the political spectrum I’ve been a part of all my life doing it the most, it pissed me off more than you could possibly imagine. I’ve never seen such a level of unapologetic hatred towards anyone who didn’t agree with all of the Left’s prevailing narratives even when they came from within. Not towards Bush. Not towards Rove. God, I think I’ve seen more death threats, baseless namecalling, and outright ire volleyed at progressives who questioned Hillary’s electability than that asshole who shot Cecil the Lion got.

And the whole time, not a peep from the DNC or RNC to tone down the rhetoric. Which also happened to be the same way of keeping them in a position of power, coincidentally enough.

And the people? They’re sick of spin. They’re sick of pearl-clutching. They’re sick of being told that conformity is the same as unity. They’re sick of compromise being a dirty word. They’re sick of every single thing that has convinced them that their neighbor is the enemy and they’re directing the sum of that rage at every personality or institution responsible for perpetuating that fear.

That’s why the RNC lost. That’s why the DNC lost.

This wasn’t a matter of social or sexual hierarchies. This was a referendum on whether the institutions, political or governmental, nearly all of us have preached sermons on the corruption or complacency of in our lives were infallible or not. This was a categorical rejection to how both parties have treated the general public for decades. They made their own beds. They formulated a cyclical narrative that seemed less a paragon of democratic discourse and more a real-world retelling of Groundhog Day.

They made Democrats and Republicans think they have nothing in common other than the desire to see the other side lose. They’re the ones who put partisanship over people. They created the anger that kept Trump in the limelight in the first place. They ignored issues, they spun them, they covered them up until they needed to be re-elected again. They made the establishment a four letter word. They have acted on their own interests with relative impunity, and had the gall to say it was my fellow American’s fault instead of taking a long hard look in the mirror. The results of this election is of their, the RNC and the DNC’s, own making.

And quite frankly, I hope they (and you) got the message

[slothcounty]

Just finished Luke Cage. No spoilers, just quick general thoughts/reaction.

- This was more than just a continuation of the MCU and the story of Luke Cage, this was a love letter to Harlem. Its people, its soul, and its legacy.

- Rosario Dawson/Claire Temple may very well be my favorite character in the entirety of Netflix’s MCU-verse.

- The amount of name drops, references, easter eggs, and one straight up hilarious throwback pretty much had me laughing or smiling for the whole ride. This series felt like a piece of a Netflix-MCU puzzle that fit seemlessly into the rest we have seen.

-I’d go as far to say that some of the storylines might have been constructed to be the glue that holds the rest of the ‘verse together.

-The pacing was slower than I expected, but I mean that in the best possible way. The amount of time spent fleshing out other characters blew me away. Great cast all around.

- Overall, great series. Daredevil seasons 1 & 2 are still my favorites, but this one comes mighty damn close.

- Netflix: bring on Defenders, Heroes for Hire, or whatever you’ve got to do to bring Misty Knight back on my screen. I can’t wait to see what happens next.

[slothcounty]

Just finished Stranger Things on Netflix. I think it just broke my top 3 current shows out there.

I give it and Eleven out of ten.

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#grandpagoals

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G.O.A.T.

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Crazy theory, but here it goes.

Mistress Death plays a very large role in the Infinity Gauntlet story line in the comics. Ever since Infinity War was confirmed, I’ve been wondering just how much of the story will be pulled straight from the comics. As far as Mistress Death went, I imagined that her appearance in a movie just wasn’t something that could translate into a film without confusing the hell (no pun) out of general audiences. Simply put, her story arc was most likely out of the story.

Then Cate Blanchett was cast. She is playing Hela in Thor: Ragnarok. Hel is the goddess and ruler of the underworld and the unworthy dead.

Does that mean that Hela might be taking Mistress Death’s place in the MCU?

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Hold the door

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6x05: “Richard Castle lives in New York with his wife Senator Beckett and their three children.”

8x22 ending happens.

Me:

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There was about 30 seconds of me yelling, “Don’t end like this, don’t end like this!”

Then the flash forward happened. All I remember after that was incoherent noises.

I was not prepared. At. All.

God, I love this show.

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I was not prepared. At. All.

God, I love this show.

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1 Writer

1 Muse

And 8 seasons later, the first episode was right all along.

I really had no idea.

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While I’m pretty sure that I’m going to dwell on the how’s and why’s for a very long time, today I’m just going to do what I’ve done every Monday for 7 years. I’m going to grin like an idiot when I see the logo splash screen, I’m going to laugh at their antics, cheer on their hearts, and savor every moment of the best chemistry I’ve ever seen in a cast.

Castle is a love story about a writer and his muse. But today, I would argue that it is also a much more profound one-- of a show and its fans.

So in that respect, I only have one word for the fandom, the cast, the crew, Marlowe and Miller, and the show I’ve called home for 7 wonderful years:

Always.

[slothcounty]

Worst Castle Monday ever.

[slothcounty]

The Walking Dead finale in one sentence:

I would say spoiler warning, but that would imply that something worth spoiling happened.

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Important Castle News… Please Share! (No spoilers)

As you may be aware, the mid-season return of Castle has been delayed to February 8th. Firstly, to be clear, the schedule change wasn’t made because of an issue with Castle, but rather because ABC wants to insert a new Bachelor feature show in Castle‘s timeslot on Feb 1. As a result…

Read more at http://castletv.net/important-castle-news-please-share-no-spoilers/

[slothcounty]

To the folks calling Bowie “problematic”:

I really have to know: at what point did you get so hateful? What it God’s name happened to you that twisted your heart to a point that you even think for one fucking second-- never mind you actually went through with it-- that trashing a man on the DAY of his death is a good idea? What vapid little fantasy worlds do you live in where you consider that type of behavior okay?

Did you care about his “problematic” past yesterday? Did you?

David Bowie took ostracizing labels like different and weird, flipped those stigmas on their heads, and made them gloriously fucking beautiful things to be. He unapologetically looked in the mirror and wasn’t afraid of what he saw. He was brave; he sang of isolation, frustration, love, loss. He sang of heroism in an ill-fated kiss, in facing the strange, in facing fear, frustration, and identity. He sang of wanderlust of the spirit and you happily join him for the ride. From the doldrums of a earthbound life to a dream of the distant stars, he spared no single insecurity-- none-- and he did it with a smile on his face in spite of them.

Isn’t that what you assholes strive for? Acceptance? Positivity? That’s what this man was to me. He was the very embodiment of a free mind. He showed me that no matter how weird I thought I was, that was a mighty damn beautiful thing to be. That weird was something to show the world because that’s the only way it will ever change. He did it with grace, dignity, and a host of superlatives that I could only wish to attain in my lifetime. Bowie was, is, and will always be one of my dearest idol’s because he fought bigotry with love-- of one’s self, of one’s world, of being you when everyone else screams that isn’t the correct way to be.

You know, I pity you. I pity that you were born in an era where soulless movements and buzzwords would lead you to a point where you feel justified in dragging a true inspiration’s name and legacy through the mud. I mourn, not only for his passing, but for the loss of whatever innocence of yours that might have been spared if only you listened to him instead of following a fucking trend.

[slothcounty]

I remember the first time I heard Vasoline; I was 12 at the time and over at the home of a friend of my mother's, basically my honorary second mom, having our traditional beginning of summer pool party. I remember there was some energy to that song that simply wasn't in the oldies station my parents never wandered from, something that made me feel absolutely alive. I wanted to hear it again, and every time I turned on the radio, it would just be there like magic. Never caught the name of the band, every time, I never caught their name.

Just a few months later, both my grandfather passed away (Alzheimer's) and my mother's friend died in a tragic accident. That summer was suffocatingly profound in the scheme of my life. It was more than just my first taste of death, it was the wholesale loss of my childhood. Those two events were two sucker punches right to my mom's gut, and it took her years to rise from it.

That Fall saw me going to a new school, stuck in classes with nobody I knew, coming home to a family which I felt too guilty to express my grief to since they were going through the same thing in equal or greater measure. Through my own naivete, I was completely alone and simply wasn't equipped to handle it yet.

One day, I remember being in the car, my parents stopped for gas after picking me up from school. The radio was on that same oldies station. I sat there frustrated-- at school, at the sound of Chuck Berry and Buddy Holly crooning away over the speakers when all I wanted the silence to broken by my family opening up and communicating again-- and honestly, I've never felt more alone. When my parents went inside, I reached from the back seat, blindly twisting the knob to land on anything that wasn't oldies. I landed on 93.7, the tail end of some crappy pop number.

Then, that familiar grungy reverb started crackling through the speakers.

It was like the last visceral memory of my childhood decided to come back, deck me in the jaw, and tell me that while it may be gone, it sure as heck wasn't going to be forgotten. By the time my parents came back to the car, the song was over, I was smiling for the first time in what felt like centuries, and I finally caught the band's name.  

Naturally, my parents were confused when I specifically requested the Stone Temple Pilots album, Purple-- and only it-- for my 13th birthday. It was not only my first CD, but it helped me deal with so much-- more than any prose or descriptor that I may conjure. His songs were an outlet, a friend, a shoulder to lean on, and just the right amount of distortion to leave my ears ringing in bliss for hours.

I followed their music all the way up to Thank You, and even though I knew Scott Weiland was a haunted man, it has always been my fondest hope that should I ever meet the man, I would simply want to say thank you right back. While I'm saddened that I'll never get the chance now, I hope that by putting my little story out there in the digital aether, his friends, his family, and his loved ones somehow know that his life made all the difference in the world in mine.

Thank you for writing some of the greatest songs in the soundtrack of my life.

Rest in peace, man.