Antifa Punks and Boogaloo Bois: A Tale of Two Scapegoats Reply

By Nicky Reid aka Comrade Hermit

Exile in Happy Valley

It was the kind of story that always seems to fly just beneath the radar. You probably missed it. I nearly did. Somewhere between the Pride parades and the Fourth of July, while the country was busy hyperventilating over the latest Coronavirus spike and I was busy scrubbing the glitter and gunpowder from my crack, a memo from Attorney General and Melvin Purvis impersonator William Barr was published by those fine parasites at the Washington Post. In this memo, Barr directed the Justice Department to form a task force devoted to combating the vague scourge of “Anti-Government Extremists.” The task force was to be led by a junta of state attorneys and would gather information on individuals and organizations deemed to be a threat by the same Attorney General who brought us Ruby Ridge.

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The Stonewall Blues (Still Dreaming of a Queer Nation) 1

By Nicky Reid aka Comrade

Exile in Happy Valley

I should be such a happy Queer, shouldn’t I? At least that’s what I’m told. After all, aren’t all the other Queer folks just so goddamn happy? The ones on TV certainly appear to be, and even the ones I know seem to agree that shit’s getting better and I suppose in many respects it is. Then why do I find myself feeling like a genderfuck Charlie Brown every July, once the parades have gone home? This year’s Pride Month seemed particularly festive, even with the much hyped specter of COVID lurking just behind every glory hole.

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Nothing Succeeds Like Secession: Suggested Demands for CHOP From a Friendly Panarchist Ally Reply

By Nicky Reid aka Comrade Hermit

Exile in Happy Valley

I have always been fascinated by secessionist movements. It goes back to my childhood love of maps, flags and geography. I use to spend hours poring over atlases and fixating on the strange autonomous zones that only existed inside fluid borders drawn in dotted lines. Strange places no American ever spoke of, with exotic names like Transnistria, Gaza, Nagorno-Karabakh, and Western Sahara. I would eventually grow into a commie, Third World, war nerd who fastidiously followed and supported these esoteric independence movements from afar.

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Speaking Queerly About Whiteness Reply

By Nicky Reid aka Comrade Hermit

Exile in Happy Valley

White people hate to talk about race, even the supposedly woke ones. When they do, the entire conversation is almost inevitably governed by fear. With white conservatives, it’s usually the fear of being made irrelevant by darker bodies. With white liberals, it’s usually the fear of being outed as being just as scared as the conservatives they mock. I’ve never really had much trouble discussing race myself, though that does seem to get me into a lot of trouble. Identity fascinates me, probably because my own has always been so goddamn elusive. In spite of the color of my flesh, I can’t recall a time in my life where I wasn’t treated as an “Other”.

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A Message Written in Fire: In Defense of Social Upheaval Reply

By Nicky Reid aka Comrade Hermit

Exile in Happy Valley

It always ends this way, you can almost set your watch to it. A glamorous soirée rambling into the wee hours of the morning in an opulent townhouse on a tony tree lined street of any given international city. The kind of event held for some obscure charity to save a species of bird that likely never existed as anything but excuse for a deceptively benevolent orgy like this. Glamorous beautiful people with household names, dressed to the nine in three-piece-suits and silk gowns that cost more than most people will see in a lifetime. Ornate ballrooms echo with the bellowing sounds of the kind of excess that only this kind of downright flammable income can afford. Senators and Wall Street bankers dry hump underage courtesans, slurping Champaign twice their age and snorting Scarface-grade amounts of the same kind of narcotics they have twelve year old children of color locked up for decades for peddling in dime bags. Obnoxious plastic debutantes force theatrical laughter at racist jokes delivered by the direct descendants of Mayflower monsters and slave drivers. The only people of color are token police chiefs dressed like ornate African dictators. The only poor people are servants and the victims of white slavery, but suddenly they become very scarce.

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Proudhon v. Facebook: A Mutualist Solution to Cyber Tyranny Reply

By Nicky Reid aka Comrade Hermit

Exile in Happy Valley

I’m pretty sure this place use to be a democracy. Not America. Contrary to what Broadway may have told you, even our saintly Founding Fathers were little more than racist neocons in pantaloons. I’m talking about the fucking internet. The Anarchist’s American Dream. A brave new world wrestled from the savages of the military industrial complex who birthed it and wilded into a stateless candy land of endless possibilities by fuzzy little daydream believers like Steve Wozniak and Richard Stallman. The place that gave us Linux and Anonymous and Napster. That land of a million possibilities where no kink was left without a chatroom and a 12 year old hacker in Ethiopia could take down the American Federal Government just for the lulz. That glorious pirate utopia of  temporary autonomous zones foretold by Hakim Bey, where only censorship was taboo and any lunatic with a Commodore could say whatever the fuck they wanted about the latest twat in the White House and the only recourse was to bitch and troll. Even a confirmed Luddite like myself couldn’t help but to look upon this satanic majesty and swell with pride at the seemingly inevitable supremacy of raw chaos.
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The New New Cold War is Pretty Much the Old New Cold War 2

By Nicky Reid aka Comrade Hermit

Exile in Happy Valley

Remember when the Russians were coming? It seems like just last week Vladimir Putin was whistling the Soviet National Anthem just around every corner of main street. After the colossal clusterfuck of Hillary 2016, you couldn’t swing a dead cat in a news room without hitting another crafty Kremlin conspiracy. Those shifty almond-eyed bastards were the secret sauce behind everything that gave neoliberals heartburn; MAGA, Black Lives Matter, Wikileaks, Bernie Bros, Jill Stein, Sasquatch, Tulsi Gabbard, Colin Kaepernick, the female orgasm. They were behind it all! Putin was everywhere, like Elvis Presley in a Mojo Nixon song, and he was always up to something new, some dastardly new conspiracy to corrupt our precious bodily fluids that only Rachel Maddow and six permanently anonymous intelligence experts could save us from. Donald Trump was constantly on the brink of impeachment for pissing on a Russian prostitute dressed as Abe Lincoln and wrapped in the Constitution or some such noise. It made sense in the moment, I swear it did! It was a new day in Imperial America, a whole new Cold War was upon us, and Adam Schiff would lead us to the promise land like a liberal Joe McCarthy on a gallant white stead.

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Democracy 2020!: Pick Your Favorite Pussy Grabber Reply

By Nicky Reid aka Comrade Hermit

Exile in Happy Valley

Good morning dearest motherfuckers, it is spring time in this the plague besotted year of our lord Satan, twenty-hundred-and-twenty, and both major party candidates for the highest office of the greatest democracy imperialism can buy are confirmed geriatric sexual predators. There exists no other way to describe the painfully hilarious absurdity of our nation’s ascent into the stinky rafters of its own proverbial asshole. Webster, Oxford, Gore Vidal, and a childhood of blaxploitation cinema have failed to develop in me a drag queen’s tongue sharp enough to sum up this nation’s plight in the heat of the Kali Yuga better than the simple, painful, basic fact that our most cherished plutocratic ritual has been quite literally rendered to a game of Pick-Your-Favorite-Rapist. After centuries of the finest and most flowery propaganda that genocide can afford. After decades upon decades of shining cities on the hill and America, the indispensable nation, the exceptional hammer of global humanitarian benevolence, Trump vs Biden is the punch line to the sickest joke the devil ever wrote.

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Fear and Loathing in Coronaville Volume 7: What Rough Beast Slouches Towards Washington and Beijing? Reply

Check out Part 1, Part 2, Part 3,  Part 4,  Part 5, and Part 6.

By Nicky Reid aka Comrade Hermit

Exile in Happy Valley

As the smoke slowly settles on the bucolic hills of my farmland community and many others, the Coronavirus nightmare may be far from over but the worst of it appears to be in the rearview mirror of the pickup. The worst also appears to be far less horrific than the self-appointed television experts had predicted, at least in the parts of the country already skeptical of such institutions, further dredging the chasm of trust between us simpleton country folk and the metropolitan slumlords who always seem to know better. Maybe if we had taken a page from Sweden and displayed a little more trust in our citizenry… Nah, never mind such strategically fruitless distractions. Never mind the swelling police state behind the curtain. The important thing now is who do we blame? What monster of the week do we scapegoat to keep people from asking the annoying questions about transparent democracy and honest journalism?

After a good zeitgeist rattling catastrophe, America, like all propaganda-weaned state-subsistent sheople, loves a good boogeyman to blame for a complicated mess. The right in this country, now represented by not one, but two rapists headlining both major parties thanks in part to Coronavirus, has stuck to the tried and true strategy of blaming the filthy foreigner. Clearly, bark Jurassic candidates Trump and Biden on opposing commercials, this plague was brought to us by that fearsome red dragon clothed in the sun called China. Aha! Communism, an oldie but a goodie. And these syphilitic oligarchs aren’t without a grain of truth, however blunt they may have rendered it with their nursing home grade racism. This thing did creep out of a city with a Biosafety Level 4 laboratory. The kind built curiously with US funding to keep up with Uncle Sam’s post-anthrax lust for black death. But ‘the brown guy did it!’ still feels more than a little played out in this day and age, like some white suburban bluebeard in Salt Lake City wailing that the Dominican drifter is responsible for the blood on his Brigham Young sweater.

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Fear and Loathing in Coronaville Volume 6: Rage Against the Quarantine or How I Learned to Start Worrying and Swear About It On the Internet Reply

Check out Part 1, Part 2, Part 3,  Part 4,  and Part 5.

By Nicky Reid aka Comrade Hermit

Exile in Happy Valley

You motherfucker! You goddamn, cocksucking, clitlicking, shiteating, dickless, cuntless, gutless, motherfucking piece of fucking shit!! Ahem, sorry about that, dearest motherfuckers, but apparently on day 3678 of this government sanctioned shutdown my Hunter S. Thompson-with-cunt-jokes routine has been reduced to Joe Pesci with Tourette’s Syndrome. Its gotten to the point where I’m not even sure who I’m swearing at anymore. Is it our thin-skinned bronzed asshole of a president, who couldn’t be bothered to skip tee time when this plague was first popping off but is more than willing to use it as an excuse to launch a Third World War with China? Is it my governor or yours, who sees the very real threat of this thing as a giant blinking greenlight that reads ‘FASCISM!’? Or is it the smug millionaire celebrities, cracking wise on Twitter about the white trash proletariat protesting the rapid erosion of our civil liberties back in Idaville from the comfort of their palatial castles in Belair? Or how about our heroes in blue, who gallantly risk their lives to pistol-whip Sunday drivers for daring to leave their two-bedroom prison cells then cry like fucking children when we fail to applaud them loudly enough for their latest ultraviolent ego-trip? It’s all of them. All of those goose-stepping, fuck-faced-fascist, mother-raping, sons of six bastards! Those cum-guzzling, blood-belching-cunt-faced, authoritarian, fatherfucking motherfuckers!! Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck your mother! Fuck your stupid butthole god! Fuck your flag! Fuck your authority! Fuck this country! Fuck the police! And fuck this goddamn motherfucking quarantine!! You motherfuckers better ban me from Facebook for another goddamn century, cuz this big-dicked tranny cunt is off her fucking meds and swinging like a goddamn samurai.

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Fear and Loathing in Coronaville Volume 5: The Patriot Act and Maximum Security Healthcare (Cuz Every Day Is 9/11) Reply

Check out Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, and Part 4.

By Nicky Reid aka Comrade Hermit

Exile in Happy Valley

It’s such a played out cliché that it’s downright corny, but if you were born sometime before the mid-Nineties, you really do remember exactly where you were on 9/11. It was an event too cataclysmic to not happen on a normal day because everything before that surreal shit-show seemed almost Norman Rockwell normal by comparison. I was a 13 year old 7th grader at Saint John’s the Evangelist Catholic School. Hardly a simple time for a painfully closeted obsessive compulsive misfit, but a time before the heavy issues war, liberty and empire ran my life. I was too busy writing down Korn lyrics, washing my hands fifty times a day, and struggling to ignore the nagging suspicion that my feelings for Caitlyn Feelow were anything but heterosexual.

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President Barack Obama endorses Joe Biden For President Reply

It’s hardly surprising that Obama would endorse his former VP. But it also shows that Obama is nothing more than an opportunistic careerist and ladder-climber. Certainly, he recognizes that Biden has dementia, early-stage Alzheimer’s, or some other mental defect. The decent thing to do would be to counsel Joe to drop out of the campaign and get some medical help as it’s obvious the guy is in bad shape. But, no, Obama wants a guy who can no longer string a sentence together as head of state. Because that’s what his benefactors at Goldman-Sachs want. And it’s not like Biden would be qualified even with his full mental faculties. As our own Nicky Reid has said.

“Joe Biden has built his seemingly endless career on a veritable staircase of broken black and brown bodies, both at home and abroad. From his intimate role in constructing the openly fascistic and blatantly racist Clinton Crime Bill that paved the way for every dead black child who’s name is only immortalized on the signs of Black Lives Matter, to the open air debris pits he helped excavate across the Middle East for his friends in the weapons industry, Biden’s rap sheet reads like a Grand Dragon for the fucking Klan. This is his legacy. Obama’s legacy is that of Wall Street’s most devoted Uncle Tom. To say that this whole spectacle makes me incredibly sad is an understatement. I’m almost glad MLK didn’t live to see this shit. He would have dropped pacifism like a fucking brick.”

On April 14, 2020, President Obama endorsed Joe Biden For President. He noted Biden’s leadership on health care, climate change, and the 2008 recovery, and said that he believes that Biden is the person who can heal the country in the wake of the COVID-19 outbreak. With President Obama on our team, we’re going to unite our party and restore the soul of the nation. Together, we will defeat Donald Trump.

Fear and Loathing in Coronaville Volume 4: Insanity is a Virtue in a Mad World 1

Check out Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3.

By Nicky Reid aka Comrade Hermit

Exile in Happy Valley

As I scrawl the sloppy copy for my latest manifesto on a window pane between my thoughts on string theory and Kevin Bacon’s connection to 9/11 (Madoff made him do it!), I am sincerely struck by America’s latest outpouring of affection for the pathologically eccentric. We may be on the veranda of a new black death but it has never been a better time to be mad in America. Not only is the evening news waxing hysterical and joining the angrier voices in my head like a Henry Rollins gospel ensemble, but every corporate huckster from Viacom to Disney apparently wants to be alone with me (I’ll be Daria if you play Snow White).

Even before this country was strapped down into the straitjacket of corona pandemonia, a movement to normalize and destigmatize the scarlet letter of mental illness in mainstream America was well underway. Finally, it’s OK to be nuts! Fuck, it’s downright sexy. But this brings to mind a question that has long haunted me. What exactly is mental illness in this age of post-modern collapse and synergistic corporate hysteria? What does it mean to be crazy in such a sick sad world?

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Fear and Loathing In Coronaville Volume 3: Forced Social Media Distancing Reply

By Nicky Reid aka Comrade Hermit

Exile in Happy Valley

It has recently become abundantly clear that Facebook hates my fucking guts. I’ve suspected as much for a while now but this week it became pretty much undeniable. After posting my praise for the latest victories of the fabulous Houthi rebels, those faceless censors at America’s biggest social media juggernaut regretfully informed me that I had violated their pristine standards by supporting “dangerous individuals and organizations”, and since this was my third offense, they’re blocking me from posting on all their platforms for thirty days. They tossed another 7 days of forced isolation from instant messaging on the fire when I attempted to finish a comment on a friend’s post that I was in the middle of when they spanked me. Apparently, I’ve been a bad bad girl. Pappa Zuckerburg needs to send me to bed without supper thirty times in a row, all at the height of social distancing season with my clinical depression already in full bloom. I can’t even message my epileptic bestie back in plague ravaged England to make sure she’s not ice cold on the kitchen floor of her girlfriends flat. And for what exactly? What the fuck even is a dangerous individual or organization?

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Fear and Loathing in Coronaville Volume 2: Panic On the Streets of Tehran Reply

By Nicky Reid aka Comrade Hermit

Exile in Happy Valley

There’s panic on the streets of Bellefonte, panic on the streets of Lancaster, I wonder to myself, could life ever be sane again? Barely two weeks into Pennsylvania’s largely mandatory shutdown and I’m already paraphrasing lyrics from vintage Smiths songs. I can’t deny to anyone, much less myself, that I’m not handling this shit particularly well. Quite frankly, I’m losing my proverbial shit. Flipping out on fucking trashcans and stalking the halls like Jack Torrance in lipstick, dragging an ax called ‘Nervous Breakdown’ behind me. I’d say I’m just a few loose screws away from chopping my family up into three neat stacks and hammering out “All business and no play make Nicky a dull girl” for volume three of this fucking thing. I’m an agoraphobic for shit’s sake. How the Christ did I do this for six years straight without committing a single homicide? I had sixty minutes with my shrink over the goddamn phone this week and she stopped my yammering no more than three times to ask me if I was suicidal. So, yeah, dearest motherfuckers, I’m not exactly doing well. At least I’m not alone.

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Fear and Loathing in Coronaville Volume 1: Dispatches From a Terrified Heartland Reply

By Nicky Reid aka Comrade Hermit

Exile in Happy Valley

Being a certifiable agoraphobic basket case, you would think someone like me would be almost preternaturally suited for the stone blind isolation of fever fucked pandamania. And you would be completely fucking wrong. I spent six years in self imposed isolation as a twenty-something shut in. I spent another six desperately clawing my way out of that hole and slowly building what has only just begun to resemble a life, and in less than six days, covid-19 has torn this intricately constructed matrix of groups, volunteer jobs and therapy down to the ground and reduced me to the shambled debris of ground zero. I’m a little bit pissed, but mostly I’m just fucking scared. If I’m going to write about something like this, I’m going to write about it with the naked ferocity that defines my writing. A strange, vaguely haunted cobweb of Gonzo muckraking and navel gazing confessionals that I’ve come to refer to as Emo-Gonzo. I am the genderfucked bastard bitch of Hunter Thompson and Sylvia Plath, humped together in the dizzy oven of some bored press junket cafeteria, and today, this is my story. George Romero eat your heart out.

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The Art of the Phony Peace Deal Reply

By Nicky Reid aka Comrade Hermit

Exile in Happy Valley

Well, it only took a million years but peace has finally come to Afghanistan, sort of. Or at least so it appears. I’m not one of those hyperventilating liberal opportunists, bursting at the seems to piss on any peace parade led by a dayglo elephant. I have genuinely made an effort to put my best foot forward when Trump has made his occasional isolationist noises. Hell, I’m probably the only one to the left of Sebastian Gorka who cheered as he told the deep state to sit and spin from Helsinki with Putin at his side. But even in the wake of all the reactionary chaos of a flip-flopping Pat Buchanan wannabe, I’ve begun to notice another trend of vain opportunism which makes me feel less than easy about Orange-Man-Bad’s latest peace deal with the Taliban.

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You Don’t Need Putin to Undermine American Democracy 1

By Nicky Reid aka Comrade Hermit

Exile in Happy Valley

With the 2020 election heating up, there is a stiff wind methodically weaving through this fierce desert of geriatric combat, something evil and relentless, sending haunted tumbleweeds rocking back and forth over fractured highways. No, I’m not talking about the winds of March, dearest motherfuckers. I’m talking about something far more sinister blowing our way. I’m talking about the return of the invisible Russian meddling menace. If you peer through the blinds, things may appear woefully normal at this glorified nursing home we call a primary, but we have it on the good authority of anonymous intelligence sources and retired sleazeballs like John Brennan and James Comey that it’s anything but, and our corporate media takes them at their word.

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…Now Can We Celebrate Some Dangerous Black People? Reply

By Nicky Reid aka Comrade Hermit

Exile in Happy Valley

Another Black History Month comes and another Black History Month goes. The 29 dreary days of the year when we reduce the history of the people who built this country beneath the weight of the whip to extra crunchy peanut butter. I’m not a black person, so every word of this rant may very well come across as politically incorrect and racially insensitive, but I am a history nerd, and as quite possibly the queerest person on this side of the rainbow, I do know what it’s like to have my tribe’s history hijacked and commodified by the same capitalist cunts who once conspired to have us annihilated. Truth be told, growing up as a freak, I often found it a hell of a lot more easy to relate to black historical figures than white ones. Malcolm X may have peed standing up but something tells me he knew more about being the straight man’s faggot than the Kennedy’s.

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Socialism Without Anti-Imperialism: A Different Flavor of Tyranny Reply

By Nicky Reid aka Comrade Hermit

Exile in Happy Valley

Well dearest motherfuckers, socialism is back and it only took about a century, or at least so it appears. Nearly half the country has polled as being down with Debs. In spite of the worst efforts of his party’s trenchant neoliberal leadership, Bernie Sanders, who splays his socialist ID loud and proud, is now the undeniable frontrunner in the 2020 Democratic Primaries and even his moderate competition are aping his modus operandi. For the first time in ever, formerly far left positions like single-payer and free tuition have become so mainstream that they’re downright boring. Even beyond America’s official “left-wing” party, the socialist renaissance is in full bloom. At over 50,000 members, the once flimsy Democratic Socialists of America is now the largest American socialist organization since the height of the Labor Movement. More young people self-identify as proud socialists than ever before. So why the fuck am I so bummed?

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Hillary, Donald & Bernie: Three Who Would Make a Catastrophe Reply

By Nicky Reid aka Comrade Hermit

Exile in Happy Valley

America is a country that both loves and hates its conspiracy theories. On the one hand, our popular culture is lousy with them, from cinema to the president’s goddamn Twitter account. On the other hand, we host an academic elite which not only views such cultural trends with disdain, but seems to see our history, their history, the “official story”, as some kind of irrefutable biblical fact. Few people make the connection between these parallel trends, the likelihood that the overly presumptuous and at times downright jingoistic orthodoxy of our ivory tower elites is precisely what drives pedestrian America to search for alternatives to their “truth”. That old adage, consider the source. The reality is that history in and of itself is not black and white science. At its most accurate it is a collection of narratives, different perspectives from the ground floor that could easily be described as conspiracy theories. What appears to be a conspiracy theory from Arlington or Manhattan, looks a lot more like bad memories from Hiroshima or Tuskegee. Any true revisionist historian must become a collector of conspiracy theories, viewing all available narratives with a healthy grain of salt.

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A Vote for Mayor Pete is a Vote for Assimilation 2

By Nicky Reid aka Comrade Hermit

Exile in Happy Valley

Once again, dearest motherfuckers, I feel obligated to reprise my roll as ‘that bitch.’ Do I really have to be the queer bummer who smashes the Buttigieg delusion? Are all the other faggot anarchists busy? Oh well, fuck it. Hand me my hammer and I’ll do what I do best, which seems to be pissing off other queer people by interrupting their increasingly statist pride parades with the stone cold inconvenience of reality. I’m really sorry darlings, but its time for some tough love. This hurts me more than it hurts you but hopefully it hurts Mayor Pete the most. Because a vote for Mayor Pete may be a vote for the first gay president, but it’s also a vote for assimilation. So, here we go.

Around the country, queer kids are getting emails and Facebook pokes from their grandparents, congratulating us collectively for producing a viable presidential candidate. We must be so proud. Maybe you are but I’m not. I wouldn’t even want a legit queer occupying that glorified porta shitter called the Oval Office, much less one who appears to have been raised by neoliberal wolves. Pete Buttigieg may be gay but he is not one of us. Pete is more vanilla than most heterosexuals. He’s the kind of queer you bring home to mom instead of your black-bear boyfriend to make your rejection of her suburban values more palatable. He’s the kind of queer who tops just so he doesn’t ruin the good linens. He’s the kind of queer who nags his boyfriend into a church marriage and a couple of adopted Guatemalans just so he has something to brag about to his soccer-mom bitch sister in the annual Christmas letter. He’s the kind of queer who has one trans friend just so he can tell his Lincoln Republican friends that he has one trans friend. He’s the kind of queer who really isn’t that queer at all. He prefers LGBTQ. He’s the new queer; domesticated, neat, house broken, a novel wonder of modern western civilization. “But he’s a sign of progressive inclusion, so what are you bitching about?”

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