Pumpkin Head And The Misogynistic Nation Of Dips And Dimwits

Crying Girl

A worst-reader sent me a email this morn. In the email I was asked the following question: What is the essence of evil? While eating breakfast, drinking too much English Breakfast tea and surfing the Interwebnets, my mind drifted to the following in its quest to find an answer.

  • Is the essence of evil murder or rape or pillaging?
  • Is it war or politics or meddling wives?
  • Is it the opposite of right or worshipping the devil?
  • Is the devil the essence of evil?
  • Is the devil actually a woman who set up her own email server to protect herself from the piranhas of Washington DC politics?

After clearing my system with a grand morning constitutional, and like most other challenges in life, I gave up on finding an answer to one of my three worst-readers. Reason, I must by a woman hater. I mean, just look at the sh*t that came out of my mind–as transcribed in the bullets above. Wow. I need to take a break–from being an #americant.

Break is over.

The question and the answer are moot. For one thing, conjuring evil by finding its essence is like finding out what the core of a baseball is in order to understand the game. In other worst-words, evil is not a  grand thing. If it were, then, I believe, nature, a’la Darwin, would have somehow rid evil from our species. Or are other living things plagued with so much evil–like we are? Which brings me to the female part of this.

(You see, there I go again. So I really should move on.)

Couldn’t help but notice a correlation between two articles I read this morn and the/an attempt to answer an innocent albeit naive question by just giving up on it. That said, the hate for Hillary Clinton is deep and I’m wondering more about how deep that hate is more than the essence of evil. Or. Perhaps. Maybe hate is the essence of evil. Hey! I think I found it. And just in the nick of time. I found that the essence of evil is hate because, well, so many people just hate women–and I’m not one of them. Or am I? Oh no. My last blog post is about giving up my love for Hillary.

On that note, allow me to add this. Donald Trump has been married three times to women that are so similar one could surmise, if one were a psycho-analyst-type, that he has an infatuation that borders on the psychotic or he never learned during that stage of life where boy turns to man that you really have to put some effort into finding the right woman on account, well, since it’s all pink on the inside, you might as well get something different on the outside. But enough of my worst vulgarities.

Hillary Clinton was able to save her marriage and keep her family together as the misogyny of an entire nation weighs upon her without remorse or consideration.

Oh my.

Rant on


Links that motivate this post: