Speculative Outrage

Oh man, did I call that wrong.  President Pussy Grabber.  I get that Hillary Clinton is really unlikable for a lot of people, but Donald Trump was endorsed by the fucking Klan.  I can’t believe this needs to be said, but:  When in doubt, vote for the candidate not endorsed by the Ku Klux Klan.  Jesus god, we’ve seriously lost our minds.  But I’m not gonna turn this into a think piece about the election.

You know what would have made 9/11 worse?  Facebook.

After the election, there was this growing dark cloud of despair hanging over my head, like a bad gag from a newspaper comic strip.  The closer we got to January 20th, the larger the cloud got, the more despair rained down, and not just on me.  Inauguration Day hit and it was horrible.

Then, on day fucking two, the White House Press Secretary addressed the nation, told a verifiable lie, and condemned the news media for failing to acknowledge the grandiosity of Trump’s achievements.  Which, of course, is condemning the news media for not sharing in a hallucination that no one else is having.

Day three, Kellyanne Conway goes on Meet The Press, and introduces “alternative facts” into the American political conversation.  Kind of like when Stephen Colbert introduced the term “truthiness” only without the humor and satire.  Let’s not beat around the bush:  Kellyanne Conway is the worst person in the world.

Trump is a moral wasteland in an expensive suit, but he’s also mentally ill and you can’t really get too righteous in your anger when dealing with the mentally ill.  Kellyanne Conway, on the other hand, holds a law degree from George Washington University.  She knows the legal definition of the word “fact,” and she knows the contemporary everyday definition, and she chose to claim there was such a thing as an alternative fact.  Fuck her.  She is a vile, manipulative liar, and the living avatar for everything that is repulsive about American politics.

The damage that will be done to our country and our people over the next four years will be horrific, and it will take generations to undo.  Of course, that’s predicated on the assumption that our country will have the desire to undo the damage.  We’ve swung so far to the right during the course of my lifetime, that might not actually be the case.  Trumps various appointees are a sick joke:  Jeff Sessions, Tom Price, Ben Carson, Rick Perry, Betsy “Grizzlies!” DeVos, Scott Pruitt, Stephen Bannon, Carl Icahn, and Sean “Pants-On-Fire” Spicer.  One gets the impression that Trump would choose an unrepentant alcoholic to hold his key to the liquor cabinet.

But for all of that, nothing has stoked the fires of outrage in my heart like Kellyanne Conway and her alternative facts.  Fun fact:  My browser thinks “Kellyanne” isn’t a word and throws the red squiggly underneath it.  I’m not going to be adding it to the dictionary.  Every time I type out her name, I want the reminder that it’s wrong:

She’s the worst.

But really, where I’m going with all this, is outrage.  I spent almost every day between the election and the inauguration trying to filter the echo chamber we’ve all become acquainted with out of my Facebook account.  I don’t want to see any news stories from bullshit sources, like ifyouonlynews.com.  I don’t want to see any news stories from any source that always skews liberal or conservative.  I don’t want to see any news stories from Huffington Post because it’s absolute garbage.  Ten weeks I spent doing this and you know what the result was?  Friends posting links to totally legit news sources, accompanied by, “R.I.P. Democracy 1776 – 2016,” and similar hyperbole.

If you’ve read everything up to this point, you know I’m worried for my country.  But can we please not mourn democracy until it’s actually fucking dead?  And by the way, I’m not speaking from a place of superiority, I’m every bit as susceptible as anyone else.  But for fuck’s sake.

Facebook went drastically wrong the day it began featuring trending news off to the right of the page.  I don’t want to know what people are screaming about.  My friends are now spread out across the globe, I want to know how they’re doing.  I want to see pictures of my nieces and nephews and my friends’ children.  I want to hear a funny anecdote about your day, or see the trailer for that upcoming superhero flick.  I DO  NOT WANT TO KNOW THAT YOU FOUND ONE OF STEVE MARTIN’S TWEETS OFFENSIVE.  And the thing that sucks is you aren’t even the one telling me that, Facebook is.

Fuck you Facebook.  Fuck you for gossiping about the gossip my friends are gossiping about.  Fuck you for telling me that the Kardashians are in another pickle.  Fuck you for showing me the stupid comment someone I love wrote in a thread started by a complete stranger.  And fuck you for introducing me to alternative facts.

You know what would have made 9/11 worse?  Facebook.

I 100% get that Facebook is a tool, and being angry at it is every bit as stupid as being angry at a hammer.  I 100% embrace that stupidity, because that’s what’s going to save my life over the next four years.  I can live without Facebook.  I can’t live without my friends and family.

So I’m done.  Like, not done done.  I’m going to have to login sometimes to promote an event or some equally rare situation where Facebook is useful, but I’m done having it in my life on a daily basis.  I took it off my phone, logged out of every device that was logged into it, and I’m going back to Google News and talking to people in person.

And on Twitter.

Shut up.


Tim Hatch lives in a secret volcano headquarters somewhere in the South Pacific, where he controls the world economy and writes confessional poetry about his disappointing childhood.

His poetry has been published in MungBeing, East Jasmine Review, The Pacific Review, The Vehicle, Touch: The Journal Of Healing, Apeiron Review, and he is the recipient of the 2014 Felix Valdez Award.

He finds writing about himself in the third person to be an overtly seductive invitation to tell lies.

He once captured a French Eagle at Talavera.

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