Our President…Donald J. Trump

I’ve never understood what it was like to lose one’s faith, until the day after the election.

I’ve always enjoyed a sense of comfort in the idea that most people believed in the same ideals that I did. To realize that I was mistaken, that I was in the minority, that hate triumphs over love, that evil triumphs over good…it broke me. When Donald Trump won the Presidency, I lost faith in people. I lost faith in our country. The villain had won. The Joker killed the Batman (Hillary was more like Aquaman, but you get my point). This was the dawn of Biff’s dystopian reality. This moment was fleeting and even though it has already passed, to even feel that way at all, no matter how temporary, was overwhelmingly depressing. I didn’t know what to do. You can laugh at me for feeling this way and tell me that I’m overreacting, that’s fair, but don’t pretend that this election doesn’t matter. That would only show that you don’t understand the true gravity of this situation. The President is not a figurehead. His/her…ugh…His decisions affect millions of people every day. When the President speaks, it has a profound effect, not only on the markets or the economy but as to whether people live or die. The President’s words and actions are triage. Billions of people are now in danger because of the irresponsible and reckless decision we just made. Just look at Syria or Libya or Vietnam or any other country where we have interfered or failed to interfere. Every action our government takes has a profound effect on people. This was not a reality contest. This was not about a protest vote. The Presidency is the most important position in the world and our country made this choice based on emotionally angry, gut-based reactions, rather than with rational and logical thinking/analysis.

It is evident from this election that people in this country are divided. We live in a fragmented country, with bubbles of communities isolated from one another, that make no effort to work together or understand how the other side lives and how they feel. This is true for liberals, urban elites, rural conservatives, for everybody (including me). This election has obliterated party politics as we know it. This election was not about political ideology, it was about class and race. Rural vs Urban. White vs non-White. Those who have benefited from the last eight years and those who have not. Clearly, Trump has tapped into something that the rest of us have been ignoring. This “silent majority” is so angry, so frustrated with the way their lives have been going, that they are willing to take a chance on a sociopathic, racist, xenophobic, misogynistic, incompetent billionaire conman because he was the first and the only candidate that seemed to understand their middle-class, blue-collar values/economic worry. They were willing to look past all of his flaws on the desperate hope that he would change their lives for the better. That he would bring jobs back. This election was the result of economic anxiety and a rejection of the political establishment. This election was a vote for a radical transformation of our political process and a vote against the “elites” (liberals, urban dwellers, PC culture, mainstream media, political leaders). It was about rejecting the political establishment, rejecting the status quo. This is about change, the same message that Obama used for his campaign. It was about fighting against the perceived corruption or the incessant evil of politics. It was about bringing jobs back and securing our borders. It was about fighting the “PC culture” and “safe spaces” that Trump supporters rail against and seem to hate more than anything else (I also have my own qualms with the political correctness war the Left has been waging). It was about all of this and it’s important that we talk about all of these things in the foreseeable future.

We in the cities, we on the political left, we who aren’t part of this “silent majority” should have never underestimated the severity of white fragility. For the past few decades, the left has shamed white people for the problems that minorities face. Well guess what, it seems that they (I’m white FYI) didn’t like it very much. White people do not want to be shamed for the problems of others. Our country is founded on the idea that everyone can succeed if they just work hard enough. Democrats have rejected this idea, which is so central to American identity and instead, placed the blame for people’s financial struggles squarely on the shoulders of white and rich people. Trump voters seemingly do not care so much about the discussion of race or gender (because they’ve benefited from their own privilege and don’t want to give it up). The political Left/Democrats have placed so much emphasis on social justice that they/we have forgotten that people’s priorities are primarily about themselves, about their own family. “How can I put food on the table for my children?”. “Do I feel safe from extremist terrorism?”. “Am I being persecuted for my Christian religion?” (No, they’re not, but they do feel that way). We can laugh at these fears and mock them but that only drives their rage, their frustration. Calling them deplorables only emboldens them in their perceived victimhood, that they are under persecution by the liberal elites. Our social fabric has been changing very rapidly and many people were and are not ready for it (although, people are never ready for societal change). They feel that this change has been forced upon them. There is a vast sense of cultural and economic anxiety among working-class whites. These worries that they have are entirely understandable. I empathize with them. I think that I now, possibly, understand them to some degree, even though I believe they put their trust in the wrong person. While the Left focused their attention on the downtrodden, the poor, those that need help the most, they left a gaping hole of angry, white, disillusioned Americans that were/are looking for an answer. These are the people in the middle and not just the middle class, but I mean literally the middle. The middle of the country, the middle of ideology, middle-aged. Their jobs are being destroyed, dwindling away through automation, migrant workers, offshore jobs, and Trump touched on all of that. He gave them an answer. He gave them hope. With statements such as “Build a wall” and “Ban all Muslims”, he spread xenophobic fear and placed blame on immigrants like so many demagogues before him to garner support, but these are still technically (proposed) solutions. The sad irony is that he himself was one of the many responsible for these problems. He uses offshore workers to make his ties and his campaign hats. He uses migrant workers to build his golf courses. He promises change but he is the wrong change agent. He had the right message for his voting base but he is the wrong messenger. Hopefully, next election, we will not forget the “silent majority”.

All of that being said,  we cannot ignore the harsh truth that this election has brought to light.

The truth is that electing Donald Trump to the Presidency is a loud and clear validation of white (male) supremacy. I understand that many Trump supporters disagree about this. They feel that supporting Trump and his policies does not mean that they are racist/sexist. It is not inherently xenophobic to want broader immigration control. Voting against Hillary Clinton is not inherently misogynistic. Trump supporters voted against her because they believe that she is a corrupt lying, greedy politician. I understand all of that, I agree with and I respect that, but we are still talking about a man,  Donald Trump, who is supported by the KKK. Trump hired Steve Bannon, the head of Breitbart as his chief executive officer for his campaign and will probably put him in a cabinet post. By bringing this “alt-right” movement into the White House, Trump has willingly mainstreamed bigotry. Even though many of his supporters claim they did not vote for him out of bigotry, this is still a vote that many minorities will take to mean: “America is for white Christian males and everyone else can get the hell out!” There is no denying that. I understand that not every Trump supporter is racist or sexist, but this man willingly allowed it to prosper and used it to raise support for his campaign and that can’t be ignored. Furthermore, he has yet to apologize for his inflammatory remarks during the race and it’s very likely he never will. He is incapable of self-reflection and that is an extremely dangerous trait in a President.


I think it’s pretty clear, and many US Historians will agree with me, that Donald Trump is one of the worst Presidential candidates in US history. This is just my opinion of course, but I remain firm on that belief. In addtion, we now have Mike Pence, a man who does not believe in abortion nor climate change nor science in general, and who will now be one of the most powerful people in the world. This is because as Trump put it, he will be “in charge of foreign and domestic policy“. Trump does not care about anyone but himself. Trump does not understand the struggles of blue-collar America and he never will. He’s never had to worry about how he’s going to pay the bills. He’s been surrounded by comfort his entire life. It’s fair to argue that Hillary doesn’t understand either and I would agree with that. It is obvious that Hillary’s message just didn’t resonate with people (including her own voting base). I’m not saying that being financially well-off disqualifies a person to be President, it doesn’t, but to hold an opulent billionaire up as a savior of blue-collar middle America is entirely ridiculous. He is not their champion. He does not represent them. He was raised as a sheltered, detached, spoiled brat. He’s never donated a single dollar to charity. Not a single dollar of his 10 Billion (he’s not worth that, but he claims to be). You think this person will just all of the sudden become a kind-hearted person and conduct himself professionally when he’s in the White House?

This is a man devoid of all empathy. He is a vengeful, angry, ignorant, petty, human being with the temperant of a five-year-old. He has the attention span of a gnat. He has legitimized conspiracy theorists by peddling nonsensical, fictitious fake news stories as the truth. The truth is irrelevant to Trump. He is a pathological liar. Politico (a non-partisan political news organization) states that 70% of Trump’s claims was a lie. At one point in September during the campaign, Trump was recorded giving 87 erroneous statements in just 5 days. When the truth no longer has any meaning, how can he be held accountable? Trump is also incredibly lackadaisical towards the duties of a politician. This is a man who was going to pick Chris Christie as his Vice-President because he didn’t have the patience nor political foresight to vet other candidates. The only reason he chose Pence instead was because his campaign manager at the time, Paul Manafort, lied to him and told him that their plane was broken, so they had no choice but to stay in Indiana for another day and meet Mike Pence. That is how he chose his VP.

Let’s not forget who this man really is:

  1. He was accused of sexually assaulting 14 woman
  2. He bragged about “grabbing a woman by the pussy”
  3. He never released his tax returns because he hasn’t paid taxes in decades.
  4. He pretended to be his own spokesperson for decades simply to brag about himself
  5. He is against the freedom of the press and forced reporters to a small, cornered off area whenever he spoke. He rallied his supporters to hate the media. He has tried to shut down the press even though they helped him get elected by making him so famous.
  6. He said that we should default on our national debt (any economist would tell you how catastrophic that would be)
  7. He tried to undermine the very foundation of our democracy by repeatedly claiming that the election was rigged and advocating for open rebellion if he lost
  8. Blames all bad trade deals on China when his merchandise is manufactured there
  9. Openly advocated for Russia aka a foreign government to intervene in our elections
  10. He called for a total shutdown and ban of all Muslims entering the country (which is illegal)
  11. He owned and operated Trump University and on November 28th, he will be due in court on November 28th to face charges of fraud. He will be going to trial, as a President-elect. All of those claims of Hillary’s corruption (regardless of if you think that’s true) and this man will be facing a trial for FRAUD!
  12. He has surrounded himself with neo-nazi sympathizers and is supported by David Duke
  13. He mocked a disabled reporter
  14. Most of his non-real estate companies/projects have gone bankrupt
  15. Owes millions of dollars to foreign banks, has properties around the world, and his business ties may prevent him from working for America’s best interests

You can proclaim that “we have to come together”, but we aren’t together, not yet. Republicans have spent the last decade doing everything in their power to ensure Obama couldn’t accomplish anything. They made it their mission to thwart his presidency. They rejected any supreme court nomination. They shut down the government! They refused to pass any bill. They held the Democratic party and Obama as hostages. This isn’t a partisan rant, this is the reality. They whined, yelled, and willingly attempted to undermine our democracy until they got their way and they were rewarded for it. Now they control all three branches of government. However, there is good news in all of this. For years, Republicans have blamed the Democrats for the problems we face as a nation. Now that they control the government, they will have to come up with actual solutions and if/when they fail (and they will fail), they will be the ones held responsible. I hope that I am wrong. I hope he’s the best President we’ve ever had, I really do. I want us to come together. I want people to start empathizing once again. I know that insulting our President-Elect isn’t a great first step, but we cannot ignore the things that he’s said and done. That’s disrespectful to all the people that he’s hurt. If Trump comes out, apologizes for his rhetoric and puts together a diverse cabinet, I will be the first one to apologize. I’ll gladly say I was wrong, I just don’t think that will happen though.

Those who supported Bernie have to be remorseful that their candidate didn’t get a chance. I was hard on Bernie because I had ideological differences with him. His supporters will say that he could have won since he had all the momentum. Although, he lost the primary so who’s to say? What I do know is that Democrats have to get people engaged again. Hillary and the Democratic party need to do some real soul-searching about what their base wants. On the bright side, Hillary won the popular vote, so at least there are still many people who reject what Donald Trump stands for. We need to remember that there was a time when black people couldn’t attend the same school as white people. There was a time when women like Susan B. Anthony couldn’t vote. There was a time when gay marriage was still illegal, just a few years ago. We need to remember that these champions of social progress, who faced overwhelming odds, were still able to fight injustice every single day. We need to remember our ancestors, including my great-grandmother, who came to America after escaping horrible situations, far worse situations than the one we face today. I empathize with anyone who feels afraid right now, but we can get through this. If we want to change things and bring back the social justice progress that we worked so hard for, we cannot sit back and do nothing. We have to do more than just posting statuses, complaining online, and/or writing think-pieces, which I am insanely guilty of doing. We have to actually volunteer. We have to work, actually WORK, for social progress. We have to reach out to those that voted for Trump and give them a better candidate. We must try to understand how all Americans feel. We all need to do more than what we are doing now. It is the only way.

Bonus: Michael Moore is just so spot on here regarding the anger that Trump supporters feel: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yz3jWJVsErc 

The National Anthem & Black Lives Matter

The National Anthem holds significant historical and moral importance for many Americans. It is a symbol of our freedom and a reminder to honor those who fight to protect our freedom. So for many people, what Colin Kaepernick did, is more than just tendentious, it is entirely un-American.

If you’ve somehow escaped this catastrophic, apocalyptic, incessantly aggravating story, then let me just say, congratulations. I truly envy your bliss. For those that don’t know, Colin Kaepernick is a black Quarterback for the San Francisco 49ers of the NFL. During a pre-season football game, Kaepernick was seen sitting down during the National Anthem instead of standing up with his hand over his heart like the rest of his teammates. When asked why this was, Kaepernick explained that he was protesting the oppression of black Americans and would continue doing so until changes are made toward ending racial oppression in the United States. Well, you know Americans, this action resulted in a thoughtful, respectful, meaningful debate about the struggles of black America and how to reform our policing in terms of racial prejudice. Haha! Just kidding!



Colin Kaepernick committing high treason

Our mainstream news/media organizations tend to grovel to the masses for clicks, shares, and retweets. Instead of presenting the issue objectively, the media tends to sensationalize the subject matter in order to generate the most “buzz” (although the blame for all of this lies with us). As such, the media has eagerly covered the controversy, turning the focus away from the primary message of race relations and into a right-wing, patriotic circle-jerk. Americans who caught the story on the news chose to weigh in on the debate, which ultimately resulted in name-calling, self-righteous aggrandizing, ignorant criticism and just utter bullshit being spewed in every direction. This happens after every “controversy”, as people are fervently keen to have their own beliefs validated by others on the internet, instead of actually, you know, trying to learn anything or attempting to understand the other person’s perspective. Well obviously, the true “patriots” of this country were/are very upset about what Kaepernick did. They claim that the QB isn’t a true American, that his actions are disrespectful to our troops and that his gesture was an affront to those that served. Kaepernick put his own beliefs ahead of his country, he went against our nationalistic pride. So yeah, I understand the anger some people feel towards him, but patriotism is nuanced. It isn’t just about wearing a cowboy hat and waving an American flag. It isn’t just about driving a pickup truck while chugging bud lights. It isn’t just about three white girls in bikinis having a pillow fight in a hot tub, as a golden eagle flies overhead dropping assault weapons onto the crowd while a speaker blasts Bruce Springsteen. Patriotism can also mean loving your country so much, that you’re willing to point out your nation’s flaws and work towards improving/fixing them.

The National Anthem is the embodiment of patriotic zealousness. It is played before every game because sports is supposed to be about rising above the conflicts of our time and uniting together for the love of our country. When one enormous, steroid monster crashes into another player giving him permanent brain damage, that action, for a fleeting moment, allows us to forget everything that divides us. That song about our star spangled banner honors our unity in supporting those that fight for our country. Kaepernick may have threatened our narrow idea of patriotism and our nationalistic unity, but that’s not why people are angry, they’re angry because he threatened white privilege.

Just look at what Sean Hannity, proud Trump supporter/advisor and a Fox News anchor, who recently claimed that he was in fact, not a journalist, had to say about the situation:

Hannity: [Kaepernick] lives in a place that should be praised for overcoming its wrongs and injustices, and having the freedom for its people to rise up for the better and change the country, because of a system put in place by our framers and our founders. But that doesn’t fit his little — you know, socially fashionable, and relevant and melodramatic pretense that he has out there. You know, his version, I guess, of the March on Selma. $128 million march on Selma.


HANNITY: There was one — I don’t know, I’ve never been able to confirm this, I looked earlier today, that he might have converted to Islam in the off-season.

Ah yes, he’s a Muslim, he must be, now it all makes sense! I should note that Kaepernick is not a follower of Islam. This ridiculous claim is entirely false and entirely unfounded.  This is the perfect example of the “silent America” that Donald Trump panders to. These are the white Americans who are afraid of Muslims, immigrants, anyone or anything that dares to threaten their beliefs. This subconscious fear stems from ignorance and untamed ignorance will always manifest itself into hate. White people are afraid/hateful of anything that threatens their superior societal position, while simultaneously denying this inherent privilege exists in the first place. This is why so many Americans want to build a wall to keep people out of the country (by the way, when these people figure out what a tunnel is, their minds are going to EXPLODE!). It is why many Americans refuse to even recognize the claims of BLM, let alone concede to the existence of racism/oppression in this country. To acknowledge these claims would legitimize white dominance and risk dissembling the privileges whites freely enjoy. A better way to put it would be that “most whites have a very limited understanding of racism because we have not been trained to think in complex ways about it and because it benefits white dominance not to do so.” (GoodmenProject) I should mention that I am white. I grew up in a sheltered, bubbled, privileged town with very few minorities. I cannot fathom what many poor, black, urban Americans go through each and every day. I have no problem in admitting that this country has failed minorities in the past and in the present. I continue to work on “checking my privilege”, not because I’m some liberal, white-guilt laden douchebag, but because I think all people should have the same equal opportunity as I do. That’s what equality truly is. It is not making sure everyone receives the same things (an array of socialists gasp in horror), equality is about everyone having the same opportunity to achieve those things. Minorities do not have these same opportunities. Women, blacks, LGBTQ, and every other minority face obstacles that white people do not face. We must remove these obstacles to ensure true equality.

Every day we hear about Trump, or Hillary, or white America’s problems. The media is making an enormous profit off of these topics. That’s not to say that the news doesn’t talk about racism, it does, a lot. However, racism may be at the forefront of the American media, but it is not at the forefront of the American ethos. We live our lives isolated from the realities of others and thus, we do not have the ability to change/take other’s perspective, to empathize with those who face discrimination. Colin Kaepernick wanted to bring attention back onto the perceived racial injustice that blacks face from the police. Instead of Americans talking about that issue, he was lambasted, ridiculed, blasphemed and treated like a terrorist. This country is still unable to have a real debate about race because millions of Americans refuse to acknowledge that racism actually exists.


Here are some insightful tweets on the matter from Doug Baldwin, fellow NFL player on a rival team. He puts it very eloquently:

Now here are some tweets from Kaepernick dissenters who clearly missed the message (read at your own peril):

“Kaepernick is a terrorist” —

“Kaepernick should be thankful that he gets to make millions of dollars in a country that provides him the freedom to play a sport that he loves” —

“He was raised by white parents, he isn’t even black!” (Black people have also said this) —

Fifty Shades of Maroon


So, I know that the fervor surrounding the Fifty Shades of Grey phenomenon has diminished since the movie release back in February 2015, but I’ve been thinking about it a lot lately. Actually, I’ve been thinking about the movie almost every day, really every hour. I just can’t stop thinking about Jamie Dornan’s hot naked body lying on top of Dakota Johnson, sexually exploring the depths of her body while also exploring the lack of depth of their respective acting skills. The delicious, sexually deviant scenes are just fused in my mind. I’ve read countless self-help books, I’ve seen dozens of therapists, and I’ve even self-medicated myself with hard drugs like vitamin D and Pez candy, but alas, nothing has worked. I figured that the only way I could rid myself of these aberrant thoughts was to participate in a hardcore multiracial, multi-gender orgy, but my parents disapproved. Parents…am I right? Always destroying our dreams.

Recently, I began to lose hope and accepted that I would be a Grey addict for the rest of my life. Then it hit me, the only way I could cure myself would be to write my own sexual fantasy novel. So, without further ado, I present to you, 50 Shades of Maroon, a story by Leonard Von MeLiketoFuck. Enjoy!

tv ma.jpg

WARNING: The following is a satirical, grotesquely written short sexual fantasy novel based on the global phenomenon, 50 Shades of Grey.


Fifty Shades of Maroon:

Jessica was 26 years old years old when she met him. He had dark eyes and a heavy soul. There was something about him that was utterly unique, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. She was drawn to him and she couldn’t do anything to stop it. His aura pulled her in like a tornado. A hot, sexy, six-packed, mysterious tornado. Meeting him would change her life forever. It was destiny. This was the one she had been waiting for.

Several years prior to meeting him, before their hands would touch, Jessica had attended the University of Sacajawea, along with her sorority sisters of Sigma Tau Delta. She was a communication studies major, along with her best friend Alex. The two had bright futures, big dreams. They were millennials, ignorant to the harsh reality we call “work”. They were unaware of the crushing monotony of life and the utter despair of existence. After graduating, they both lived together in an apartment in uptown Manhattan. Jessica worked for a digital marketing firm while Alex was studying to become a nurse. They were best friends, two peas in a pod, two females, two human beings, two living creatures on Earth.

Only a few weeks prior to when his phallic instrument would enter her body, the two roomies had celebrated a friend’s wedding in Atlantic City. Clearly, their friend was a trashy slut. The trip had made Jessica reflect on being single, because when a girl celebrates a big, happy event for another girl, it triggers deep insecurities in herself. Jessica didn’t consider herself to be lonely, but she longed to find her future husband. The perfect guy that would be there for her, that would hold her, that would yell at the TV about sports stuff, that would talk to her about politics that she didn’t care to hear about. She wanted to find that special someone she could spend the rest of her life with. At 26 years old, she was already way past her prime. In only a few years she’d be 72, and by then she’d die single and alone. After the wedding, which for Jessica, resulted in weeks of utter loneliness and hiding deep-seated envy toward her friend, Jessica was losing faith. Little did she know that she would soon meet the “one”. She would soon meet Zachary Jebadiah Rodriguez Maroon.

The two met on April 22nd at a crowded bar in the lower east side called “Pint Kampf”. The “LES” as it’s called, is where young people go out and wait in line for 45 minutes to buy overpriced Budlights. Zach was by the bar with a few friends drinking an apple martini. They were smiling, laughing, and having a grand ole time. Jessica noticed him right when she walked in. She was nervous and too afraid to approach him. Alex knew her friend well enough to know what she was feeling. So she and a few other of their gal pals took it upon themselves to make the necessary introductions. Alex walked up to Zach and said something along the lines of, “Hey, this my friend Jessica, she thinks you’re cute,” embarrassing her roommate in the process. To which Zach replied, “Oh, that’s very nice. Well, let me buy you girls some dranks.”

Dranks is a slang term for drinks. Young people like saying it this way because it makes the entire premise of getting drinks with a female seem more casual. Zach asked Jessica what she wanted and she replied, “I’ll drink anything”. Little did Zach know that Jessica actually wanted a cranberry vodka, but she wanted to seem “chill” so she tried playing it cool. Little did Jessica know that Zach didn’t give two shits what Jessica wanted to drink and that he just wanted her to get drunk enough to consider having intercourse with him. After enjoying their beverages, the two mingled and danced for what seemed to be hours. When the bar was closing, Jessica and Zach stood in the middle of the dance floor, smiling at one another. She didn’t want the night to end, as she could stay here forever. He couldn’t wait for the night to end, as he was waiting for an excuse to invite her back to his place. The two promptly left the bar and hopped in a cab, together. Jessica was excited, she was going to spend the night with this enchanting hunk of a man. Zach was also excited, he was finally going to stick his penis in an orifice. The cab pulled up to his home around 3 am, and when they stepped out, Jessica’s mouth dropped to the floor. The cab had dropped them at an apartment complex that was famous for housing several celebrities. These apartments were worth at least several million dollars. They walked into the lobby. Zach gave a head nod to the doorman, which was to signal that he was about to get laid and that he just absolutely fucking kills it at life. They took the elevator up to the penthouse floor. Jessica could barely hold in her excitement. Who was this guy? How could he afford such a nice place? Was he a billionaire CEO of a major corporation? Zach opened the door to reveal his not-so-humble abode.

“Do you like it?” Zach asked with a devilish smile.

Jessica’s eyes sparkled with the reflection of the chandelier that hung above them. The apartment was gorgeous. There were at least 3 bedrooms, all with beautifully draped curtains. The kitchen was all expensive marble. The living room was something of a mix between 1960’s Madmen and a Bond-villain’s lair, funky, but tasteful. Every room had enormous floor-to-ceiling windows, revealing a beautiful skyline view of Manhattan. Above the fireplace, there was a giant picture hanging on the wall of two bears with red clown noses riding fixed-wheel bicycles. There was a train track set that rotated around the ceiling of the house, which prompted a “choo choo” everytime the train did a full loop. There were multiple stone replicas of the Kindlifresserbrunnen littered throughout the house. It was a beautiful home. The two stood in the kitchen as Zach got two glasses out of the cabinet

“Would you like a drink?”

“Sure,” Jessica replied even though she was more than sufficiently intoxicated for the night.

Zach poured two glasses of an expensive wine. He looked at Jessica and smiled as he poured the glasses.

“Zach, I have to ask, but what exactly do you do? How…”

“How’d I get an apartment like this? Well, it’s quite a story. You see, I was actually born in North Dakota. My parents were poor immigrant farmers. Growing up was hard, there were many nights we’d go without eating dinner. I hated living in poverty. So when I got older, I moved to Lake Superior. It was there that I met a millionaire copper tycoon. He invited me to join him on a ten-year yacht trek and while out on the high seas, he taught me everything he knew. When he died, I inherited all his wealth. Now I’ve met you. Now I have someone to share it with.”

“Wait, really? That’s incredible!” Jessica exclaimed, not realizing that this was the background story for the titular character in F. Scott Fitzgerald’s, “The Great Gatsby“.

“Nah. Not actually. This is my parent’s spot. They’re just never here on the weekends. It’s fucking awesome,” Zach riposted following a hearty laugh.

“Hahahaha, you’re so funny,” Jessica said while playfully slapping his arm.

“So, since you’re almost finished with your drink, do you want to take this to the bedroom?”

There it was, the question she had been waiting for since the aggressive rap music they were playing at the bar had ended. Zach reached out for her hand. Jessica gracefully accepted his with hers. Their hands now connected. Sparks flew everywhere. Seriously, a light went out in the guest bedroom. It was an incredibly dangerous situation, but both were too drunk to notice it. Zach escorted his beloved into his bedroom, revealing a king sized bed. “A proper size for a king,” she thought. When they got through the bedroom door, he spun her around to face him. Their eyes reflecting the gaze of each other’s eternal love. Jessica let a small smile appear, which Zach replicated. Zach slowly brushed her hair away from her face. He gave her a kiss on the neck and put his hand on the back of her head.

“Don’t be nervous,” he exclaimed with a sexy sort of confidence.

“I can’t help it. When I look at you, my head starts spinning.”

“That’s probably because you’ve had an overwhelming number of drinks. I’m surprised you can see straight,” Zach replied before letting out a disturbingly loud, but tasteful burp.

Zach’s way with words entranced Jessica, entrapped her in a glass case of emotion. Zach continued onward, kissing her neck and rubbing his hand across her back. They moved further into the bedroom. He closed the door behind him as they entered. As he turned back from facing the door to face Jessica, her mouth appeared next to his. Their lips touched, their arms wrapped around each other. Still standing, the two engaged in the old practice of Arabian tongue dancing. They continued kissing passionately while slowly creeping toward the bed. Jessica kicked off her shoes. Zach lifted her up and laid her down on the bed. Jessica sat back up and anxiously starting undoing his belt while he stood in front of her. She moved quickly, throwing the belt to the side of the room. The belt transformed into a snake and slithered off out of sight. Zach took off his shirt, revealing his belly button, an outie (ew, gross right?). Jessica looked upon his chest. She had never seen such a perfect body before. His stomach slightly protruding over his pants. The two slightly defined pectoral muscles. Thinly toned biceps that said, “I work out but only very occasionally.” It was the most beautiful dad bod she had ever seen. She stood back up to make out with him once again but he pushed her on the shoulder back onto the bed.

“Wait” Zach sternly reprimanded.

Jessica looked up, “What’s wrong?”

“I have to tell you something Jessica. I get very rough in bed and I want to warn you in case you are uncomfortable with that.”

Jessica didn’t know what to say. She had never met anyone so direct and forthright before. It turned her on. Then again, so did green umbrellas and small monkeys wearing a hat and playing the symbol.

“I can handle rough, Mr. Maroon”, Jessica said while pulling on his pants, bringing him back towards her.

“I don’t mean hair pulling rough. I like it really rough. I can’t help it really. The man I inherited my wealth from, which allowed me to create my billion dollar holding company, would sometimes sexually abuse me while we were out to sea. It messed up my psyche. Now I have to do BDSM to compensate for my inability to deal with my emotional trauma.”

“What? I thought you told me that was a lie,” Jessica asked.

“Oh yeah. I did. Damnit I forgot about that. I was just trying to be like sexy and shit.”

“Well you were, you are. Let’s continue.” Jessica said while starting to unbutton his pants.

Zach’s pants fell to the floor. He stood there in his Calvin Klein micro boxer briefs. Great underwear, super comfortable. He looked down at Jessica, her clothes were still on. That was a problem. He pulled her shirt over her head. They continued to passionately kiss one another. His tongue pierced her like an arrow off the bow of a proud Iroquois warrior. His nails slowly dug into her back, descending from her neck down to her bra. He quickly unzipped her, uncovering size 34 B’s. Zach was hoping for more, but at this stage of the night, he was amenable to her average sized, but nicely shaped titties. Jessica, still sitting upward on his bed, put her arm around Zach’s neck. Zach immediately wasted no time, he ripped off his bed’s duvet, doing the same for her panties. She reached down in his underwear, his erect penis shuddering as her hand slowing stroked it. Both were now fully naked and exposed. As they zealously kissed one another, he massaged the lip things of her vagina with his fingers. He slowly moved his fingers over and over her clitorosaurus rex. She brought his penis closer to her baby maker. He reached for his nightstand and opened the drawer, taking out the King James Bible that rested inside. She looked up at Zach, his face was stern. Her mouth descended upon his private parts. As she started sucking, Zach lifted the Bible in his right hand above her. He whacked her in the back with it. Jessica knew this was somewhat strange, but still, she found herself deliriously aroused. Zach proceeded smacking her with the Bible as she continued giving him a beej.

Zach smacked her.

“You shall repent for your sins on the mountains of Sodom and Gomorrah!”

Another smack.

“The idle hands of the adulterer shall lay forth upon thy vessel of Satan”.

Another one.

“Your two breasts are like two fawns, twins of a gazelle, which feed among the lilies. Song of Solomon 4:5

After like several more minutes of uneventful foreplay, she detached her mouth and moved further onto the bed. His penis soon entered her vagina hole, he finally stuck the landing. Jessica let out a sensual sigh. He slowly rocked his hips back and forth, protruding her body with his semen shooter. Back and forth, back and forth.

“Yeah! You like it when I do it like that?” Zach loudly asked her out loud with his voice.

Zachary started thrusting harder. “Yeah I’m going to ejaculate into your hole so hard. Just so fucking hard.”

“Yes, Zach, keep going. You’re going to cum so hard for me. Like really really hard. You’re going to cum harder than it is to raise one eyebrow at a time.”

Zach was pleased, “Keep telling me how hard I’m going to cum.”

“You’re going to cum harder than it is to get a good score on the SAT,” Jessica capitulated. “You’re going to cum so hard, it’ll make indicting a police officer involved in the senseless shooting of an unarmed black male seem easy. You’re going to cum so hard, it’ll become the number 1 item on the Moh’s scale of hardness.”

“So hard baby. So hard. Like harder than my boner. Harder than it is to…ok I don’t know what to say anymore but we’re fucking!!” Zach yelled at the top of his lungs.

The two did the sex for at least 14 more seconds before Zach let out a carnal grunt. Zach had shot his load. Jessica laid in bed, deeply satisfied. It was the best 46 seconds of her life.

“Wow that was amazing” Jessica proclaimed.

“Yeah, that was fun. Ight get the fuck out of my house.”

Jessica was puzzled. “You want me to leave?”

“Yo what the fuck I just say? I’ll text you tomorrow. It’s bed time. Sleepyville calling my name. Now leave, get out, it’s the end of you and me. Those are lyrics by JoJo, the greatest singer of our time. Ok night night!” Zach said before his head collapsed into his pillow.

Jessica looked at her sexual dominator. He was already sleeping. She gathered her clothes and left the apartment.

The next day, Jessica awoke to Alex sitting at the edge of her bed, gleefully awaiting to speak with her.

“So…I heard you come back at 5 am last night, what happened? Tell me everything. Did you have sex with him?” Alex asked her bestie.

Jessica sat up in her bed. She rubbed her eyes and looked at the clock. It was past noon. The memories of last night were still fused in her mind. She looked bashfully at Alex.

“It was a fun night.”

“Come on Jessica! Tell me!” Alex begged.

“Ok, it was amazing. Honestly, it was the best sex of my life. He’s just, like how do I say it? He’s just incredible.”

“Wow. I’m so happy for you. Are you going to see him again tonight?”

Jessica was hoping so. It was Saturday, another night to go out to an overcrowded bar. She grabbed her phone off her night table. No new messages. She checked again in an hour, nothing.

Seven weeks later, while the two roomies were cooking brownies, which apparently some people think is like a fun activity or something, Jessica’s phone vibrated. Jessica looked at her phone on the kitchen counter. It was a new message from Zach. It had been so long and Jessica had started to think that maybe he just wasn’t that into her.

She opened the text. It read: My place. 8pm. Pre-night out booty sesh.

Jessica was utterly relieved. He liked her, he really liked her! Alex and Jessica spent the next three hours deciding the perfect text to send back. Eventually, they came up with the perfect text to encapsulate everything Jessica was feeling at that moment.

“Kk” Jessica texted back.

It had become 8 pm and Jessica was standing in front of his door. Another magical evening of lust and passion awaited her. Another night of sexual awakening. Jessica could hardly wait. Zach opened the door, Jessica looked beautiful. Zach was relieved, as he had forgotten what she looked like and was hoping she was hot.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi,” she replied.

“Meet me in the bedroom. I don’t have much time.”

Jessica obediently followed his orders and went to the bedroom where she quickly undressed, leaving on only her undergarments and took her position on the bed. Same place as the last time. Zach soon entered, he was already naked. He had on a top hat and there was a small bowtie tied around his genitals. Jessica bit the bottom of her lip, her cheeks began to blush. Zach walked towards her and put his hand under her chin, looking her directly in the eyes.

“Look at me,” he demanded. “I am the captain now.”

Jessica untied her present, meaning his ballsack. She began to fondle his marbles. Zach turned her around so that her gluteus maximus faced him.

“No, this time, we’re doing it from behind. I want your butt to face me because I like butts. #buttstuff2016.”

Jessica agreed and so Zach got into position. Zach opened the drawer and Jessica readied herself for her next Bible Studies lesson. However, this time, instead of a bible, Zach had brought out a scalding hot iron. Jessica was bewildered but eager to take whatever pleasurable activity was coming her way. Zach also got a recipe book from the same drawer and laid it down on the pillow in front of Jessica’s face.

“If you’re going to be my wife, then I have to teach you how to be domesticated,” Zach dryly informed her. Zach entered his bangers, beans, and mash into her salad bowl and began thrusting back and forth. Every time the iron swiped across her back, Jessica moaned in unison. As the thrusting continued, Jessica’s head collided into the headboard.




The fourth bang was the loudest. Jessica’s head hit the board so hard that she lost consciousness. Jessica entered a dream-like state, her head spinning and throbbing. The sudden brain trauma had changed something in Jessica. She started to ruminate about her current situation. She began to think that allowing a guy to iron her back and forcing her to learn a recipe for Chicken Marsala while being sexed from behind may be somewhat disrespectful.

“Maybe I deserve more,” Jessica thought to herself. “Maybe all women deserve more than being casted and treated as objects for men. A relationship isn’t about being dominated or submissive in the bedroom. It’s not about who is more powerful than one another. A relationship is about mutual respect, mutual connection. Maybe Zach isn’t ‘the one’. Perhaps the entire concept/idea of ‘the one’ is a ridiculous fallacy perpetuated by the media/TV for the purpose of packaging love in a neat, easily understandable message that they can then sell to an audience. It’s possible that the idea of ‘the perfect guy/girl’ is a romanticized social construct created to give spiritual meaning to something that is intrinsically dependent upon chance. Life isn’t a great journey to find the perfect partner, life is just what we make out of it. Giving love this hyperbolic, unattainable sense of meaning is actually detrimental. Destiny isn’t real. It may be nice and comforting to believe in that, but it creates a false perspective of what love really should be about. Love is a biological reaction, it’s a hormonal, neurological sensation heightened through evolution…and amplified by alcohol and drugs. The “perfect guy/girl” doesn’t exist because no one is perfect, but that doesn’t mean we should just settle for the first person we have a drink with. Maybe this dating thing isn’t as complicated as we make it out to be. No one has the answers and not every relationship will work. People should just live their life and be able to say yes or no without attributing dire consequences to their answers. It’s just that…”

As Jessica continued to ramble on, her head hit the headboard for a fifth time.


Jessica awoke from her state of supposed clarity and opened her eyes. Zach had just busted and was letting out an animalistic grunt while pounding his chest with his free hand.

“I am a god-damn champion!” Zach screamed.

As Zach got off the bed and headed for the bathroom, Jessica forgot what she was thinking about. She couldn’t remember the last few bangs on the headboard. She laid her head on the pillow to face the ceiling, which had a giant poster of Mel Gibson on it. She smiled and looked towards Zach.

“I’m going to marry him,” she out loud to herself.

And that she did. Only three years later, the two would marry in a ceremony in Connecticut. One year after the ceremony, they would have two kids, named Osama and Adolf. While Alex, the ancillary character in this story, went off and married a nice husband and moved to Wyoming, Jessica and Zach’s relationship began to fall apart. When their kids were 7 years and 4 years old, they filed for divorce. The fight for child custody turned nasty. Insults were lobbied and long periods of time were spent in court. Zach began seeing a divorcée, Jessica began seeing a marriage counselor. The years would pass and both would re-marry. Their relationship became less contentious out of respect for the children. The years continued to pass and the kids grew up and had their own grandchildren. Eventually, Jessica moved far away and so she rarely saw her family anymore. Both she and Alex moved to gated communities in Florida. Jessica died at the age of 84, her immediate family surrounding her. Three weeks later, her grandchildren went on a trip to Bermuda where they would engage in a raucous interracial orgy, and the circle of life continued.