Y’all know I don’t use the word “cunt” lightly. This woman…is a cunt.
Oh, heck no. The Trumpites next door to our pandemic getaway, who seem as devoted to the ex-president as you can get without being Q fans, just plowed our driveway without being asked and did a great job.
How am I going to resist demands for unity in the face of this act of aggressive niceness?
It ain’t our side that’s demanding it, and I expect those acts of “aggressive niceness” are soon to winnow down to plain old aggression.
Of course, on some level, I realize I owe them thanks — and, man, it really looks like the guy back-dragged the driveway like a pro — but how much thanks?
These neighbors are staunch partisans of blue lives, and there aren’t a lot of anything other than white lives in the neighborhood.
So here’s my response to my plowed driveway, for now. Politely, but not profusely, I’ll acknowledge the Sassian move. With a wave and a thanks, a minimal start on building back trust. I’m not ready to knock on the door with a covered dish yet.
I also can’t give my neighbors absolution; it’s not mine to give. Free driveway work, as nice as it is, is just not the same currency as justice and truth. To pretend it is would be to lie, and they probably aren’t looking for absolution anyway.
You wouldn’t know justice and truth if it kicked your teeth down your throat. And if your neighbors are misguided enough to seek absolution from your ilk, their moral compass is in need of some serious adjusting.
But I can offer a standing invitation to make amends. Not with a snowplow but by recognizing the truth about the Trump administration and, more important, by working for justice for all those whom the administration harmed. Only when we work shoulder to shoulder to repair the damage of the last four years will we even begin to dig out of this storm.
How typical of you to express “gratitude” for an act of selfless generosity that actually yielded quantifiable benefit to you with the “offer” of a condescending political lecture reciting your warped version of “truth” that nobody asked for or wants. How typical, too, the compulsion to taint a simple kindness with the inevitable injection of political acrimony in response. You regard such egotistical primping and preening as an “invitation to make amends,” when what it really amounts to is a demand for an abject confession of error required before we can all “work shoulder to shoulder” to “dig out” of a “storm” which was conjured entirely by you and yours, not by blameless “Trumpites.”
No thanks, not interested. In fact, go fuck yourself with a thistle branch for all me. In your native Parseltongue, “unity” actually means “surrender,” as we all know by now. Frankly, I’d rather gargle semen than endure a moment’s social interaction with such as you, so bending the knee in submission is just not on the menu. Save your covered dishes for folks who really need ’em: the hordes of newly unemployed and/or bankrupt thanks to your chowderhead “president” (you won’t have any trouble finding them; just wander the urban blight near you until you come to all the tents). Save your pompous hypocrisy and toothless, passive-aggressive insults for your fellow Progtard assholes to titter at over boxed wine. And save your insufferable self-righteousness, your unfounded assumptions of superiority, and your preschool political insights for somebody who might actually give a tinker’s damn what you think.