Tag: Obama

Last Voicemail Message from SpaceDog Transcribed by Les Sober

Welcome

It was an autumn night. The year 1994. I was 16. I remember this night for it was my first introduction to the ‘gay community’. It was my first night at a gay bar. The people I was with told I was at the ‘Little Roxy’ (in New Brunswick, NJ maybe?).

As I walked in, I took in the room. The first thing I noticed were the stares. The first thing I felt was the hand of an intoxicated man grabbing my ass. It was immediate uncomfortablity. I was offered a drink but I just wanted to get out. I did eventually.

We proceeded to go to Roxy in New York. I was in awe. At first I loved it, then it struck me as odd, then it struck me as love again. I noticed everybody being really gropey to one another. Then the people I was with (a much older sampling of men probably mostly over 40) all started kissing together in a circle. I, being in the city on their pursestrings, joined. It was all odd in the long run, then I was taken home, snuck in my window, and went on with my regular life.

Looking back at this specifically it just strikes me as odd how this group of friends would all get tongue twisted like that. I shouldn’t judge really, I’ve hooked up with a friend or two in my days but it was basically my first impression.

On my eighteenth birthday, I was ostracized by my closest gay friend for not wanting to go out to a club. I wanted to be around my straight friends and for this I was condemned and condoned.

‘Why would you want to be around straight people?’ You can’t get any cock with them!’, he viciously barked at me.

My simple reply was,’Life is not just about sex. It is about being around people that I enjoy the company of whether they are straight or gay.’ Sadly this wasn’t the only time I heard this from a fellow gay.

Prelude to a F*** OFF

Before I begin this section I just want to state that I have had fun at gay bars and clubs in the past. I have also had fun while being stranded in snow storms along the side of the road and have had fun while being searched by the police. I even have had fun with someone after suicide attempt. Does this make me sick and twisted? More then likely yes. I adapt to the cards I am dealt on a given occasion and try to make the best of things. We aren’t always dealt a great hand and even when we are there are infinite ways we can screw it up (and vice versa).

F*** OFF!!!!!!!!!!

I am completely tired of how gay people act as a whole. Sure as a ‘community’ we can band together and protest things like prop 8 which I am proud of, yet the remander of the time we tear one another apart.

I choose not to part of a ‘community’ wear all that is praised is vanity, clothing labels, and how many cocks we can suck. I choose not to be a part of something where self centeredness reigns queen supreme. Where narcassism is considered a positive attribute and altruism is a red flag for let’s take advantage of him. Where people not conforming to the majority are made to feel like a right wing nut job at an Obama rally.

And nearly fifteen years after my first experience with the ‘community’ I have realized nothing has changed. It is all just still a big meat market, devoid of morals, devoid of much more then what can you do for me now. I don’t really expect more and never have or will. It is what it is.

On a personal note, I have noticed that things such as honesty, whether about yourself or someone else is chopped down to an unacceptable level.

Nine times out of ten when I tell someone that I have epilepsy they suddenly look at me differently like I have eight legs or they want me to have a seizure like, ‘HERE SPARKY BARK SPARKY’ F*** SPARKY!!!

I tell them I think Britney Spears, Ashley Simpson, Miley Cyrus and their legion of doom can all go suck my cock and that I like a lot more rock music and that the music playing in this club makes me to shoot myself in the head, they are either personally affronted or think I literally want to shoot myself in the head. Like I’m gonna go out like Kurt Cobain or Layne Staley and off myself just because I listen to their music.

 

When someone asks my opinion, I do not sugar coat it. I tell it like it is. I do not hang in close surroundings with people I detest. People are so offended by bluntness and honesty because the truth hurts.

Would you rather be lied to all your life by people you think are your friends or would you rather be told the truth by your enemies? Lest we forget the old saying:, ‘Keep your friends close but your enemies even closer.’

A lot of people who portray themselves as genuine will stab you in the back in front of their friends. Some people will simply reveal their true colors over time.

Which is why I simply say F*** OFF to the ‘gay community’ and for those of you fed up as well, welcome to my gay revolution.

Murder And Mayhem At Trump’s Insidious Impromptu News Conference Of Death & Damnation

Have you ever woken up in the morning and the first though you have is that you really want to pick a fight? I have many times and today I decided the person I was to pick a fight with would be the one and only Donald Trump. I ,along with the rest of the American people , have been bombarded by Donald Trump on television, printed interviews/articles in newspapers and magazines alike, Twitter, Youtube, and even radio. I must be clear I hate Donald Trump politically and personally as he is an extremely shitty person to begin with. Now why, or for what reason do I dislike Trump so highly?
Donald Trump looks quite similar to the past 44 presidents (excluding Obama obviously). He dresses in expensive high end suits worth thousands, predominately wears red or blue ties, is a 70 year old white man, and has a rather large belly. That is where the similarities end. Trump’s unique physical characteristic being found in his ungodly fake spray tan that leaves him looking like he has the worst case of jaundice in recorded history. The second primary physical characteristic is his hair which has remained a mystery for so long it can finally been called the 8th wonder of the world.
As for Donald Trump’s personality characteristics they are truly deplorable as he seems to have a Pandora’s box of bad behavior. Trump is a narcissist of Freudian proportions who’s extreme ego borders on megalomania. Also, for being completely ignorant of the American political system, Trump is over opinionated as well as ruthlessly aggressive on every front and every platform because his unquenchable thirst for power and control are unparalleled. For a president, Trump seems ignorant of the issues and takes every negative comment as a personal attack upon his character. Trump’s immature attitude has him tweeting like a tween and seems to cater to his child-like mentality that causes him to have terrible tantrums reminiscent of a 2 year old. Trump also is a sexist who’s views are almost on par with pedophilia. He is a closet racist and blatant anti semite. Trump is not only rude and insulting, but he always remains unapologetic as he points his finger at anyone but himself.
I just so happen to live in Florida and am located so geographically close to Trump’s Mar-a-Lago mansion that when I saw he was due for another visit I decided this was my chance. I drove to the Palm Beach Post newspaper headquarters down in West Palm Beach to meet up with a buddy of mine that works for the paper. He hooked me up with an official press pass and credentials which (unless you were in the know) made me look like a legitimate reporter. I then made my way to the Trump National Golf Club also located in Mar-a-Lago where Trump was due to throw an impromptu press conference. I strolled past the news truck barricade parked directly out front and past the handful of reporters shooting pre news conference pieces. I entered the club’s front door where a large security man who scowled at my press pass before ordering me through a metal detector. On the other side of the metal detector I was met by another rather large looking security man who gave me a pat down that was so intense it was more like a massage. I made my way into the conference room and managed to finagle my way into the 2nd row front and center where I waited for my prey to enter the room.
It didn’t take long before the rest of the press personnel were herded into the conference room like cattle. About a minute later Donald Trump entered from behind a curtain lazily wandering over to the podium as he smiled with self satisfaction. Once behind the podium Trump proceeded to slowly scan the room from side to side with his classically vacant stare. The conference was a fiasco and made little to absolutely no sense at all as Trump dodged questions, made false allegations and rambled on about subjects that weren’t addressed in the news conference. After 45 minutes or so Trump finally wound down his inane diatribe and opened the floor to questions. This was my opening because to fight Donald Trump your best weapon is Donald Trump. All one has to do to pick a fight with Trump is to say anything remotely critical about him and he launches himself into a terrific tirade which surpasses self defense. He then plunges head first into full on attack mode.
By the time fourth or fifth question had been asked Trump was already leaning aggressively forward over the podium his face flushed with outrageous anger. Trump’s facial features had twisted and contorted into an insane mask of rage filled disgust and endless contempt. He was cracking quickly and I knew it was now or never. I raised my hand and was lucky enough to have him call upon me.
I simply asked the president how he plans to make America great again if his bartenders at Trump’s Bar and Grill couldn’t even make a proper cocktail? Without pausing for a millisecond I continued by explaining. A patron of his eating establishment photographed a $22 gin martini because it was served in wine glass filled with a generous handful of ice. I was some unknown brand of gin, and had a very weak looking olive.
This was the straw that broke the Donald’s back as it were. Trump started waving his hands in the air like a demonically possessed air traffic controller screaming at the top of his lungs that in fact, the world has been making martinis wrong, and Trump’s bar staff actually know the correct recipe. Thats when the shit really hit the fan as they say.
Trump’s private security burst open the conference room doors with the force of an atom bomb and came charging in like rabid bulls. Unfortunately the private security team had had a miscommunication issue as to what was happening and who they were supposed to subdue. This miscommunication led Trump’s private security personnel to engage in an all out fucking fist fight with the Secret Service who too where there for the protection of the president. Steve Bannon appeared out of no where holding a copy of “Mien Komf” which he immediately started reading in German. I wanted to punch Bannon in his white nationalist fat fucking face, but I didn’t want my hand to stink of cheap whiskey, sweat and nazi for the rest of the day. Mike Pence, being the giant pussy that he is, had been methodically backing up since the opening of the Q and A to the curtain behind the podium, which he now utilized to hide with only his expensive Italian loafers poking out from the bottom. Reporters scrambled to defensive positions tripping over each other’s camera cords, and misplaced chairs in an attempt to capture as much footage as possible. Kellyanne Conway showed up to pander to the remaining cameras and reporters jumping around like a jack rabbit on crystal meth. Kellyanne was trying in vain to convince the reporters that this was not a riot of any kind, BUT it was a rally born of over exuberance, love and support for Trump. This over exuberance had caused a spontaneous outbreak of fanatical joy and sincere celebration. Moments after appearing on the scene Kellyanne was struck violently on the top of her head in the misguided attack by a Trump supporter armed with a confiscated boom microphone. The boom microphone crashed down upon Kellyanne’s skull with such brute force it split her head in half in a volcanic explosion of blood. Kellyanne’s body wavered a second with her eyes still blinking in such a way it was reminiscent of a Hammerhead Shark before collapsing lifelessly on the floor. Just then I spotted the one person I hate worse than Donald Trump, the British journalist Milo “I will say anything or back anything outrageous for attention” Yiannopoulos who is employed by the GOP to run interference using the most vile propaganda to distract the public from the president. Milo was dressed in a British school boys uniform to accommodate his latest travesty of defending, exuding and virtually promoting pedophilia. My attention was drawn to Yiannopoulos. He was fleeing franticly towards the fire exit at the back of the room when he got knocked flat on his back by an improvised nazi salute from Bannon. I ran over to Milo and informed him I was the vice president of NAMBLA (may all members of NAMBLA be castrated and left to bleed out)and I was here to help him escape. Once Milo was on his feet again I led him to the center of the conference room directly under the industrial fan that was humming like monster truck engine.
Once we were positioned under the gigantic fan I bent down, grabbed Milo behind his legs under his buttocks, and hoisted him strait up into the fury of the fan blades. The fan blades turned Milo’s head, arms and upper torso into minced meat with a shower of blood, bone and body parts raining down upon the entire room. I dropped Milo’s mutilated and mangled carcass and looked back at Steve Bannon. Bannon had worked himself into such a fury he had triggered a massive fucking heart attack. His face as white as his KKK hood, sweating like a pig at the slaughtering house, gasping for air and clutching at his heart with his right hand while still kept on reading. Seconds later Bannon dropped to his knees, explosively shit his pants and fell over dead as a door nail, and his eyes looked like 2 fucking blowfish due to Bannon’s extremely insane blood pressure right before death. The chaos was reaching a climax when I realized if I believed in self preservation this was time to make my exit. Trump’s security had surrounded him and were ushering him out the door with great difficulty because Trump kept stopping to turn around and yell ridiculous claims such as this was a media plot to destroy and discredit him, this is part of the Liberal agenda, this was in all reality fake news, the electoral college, the boarder wall, molesting women, his bank account, Putin and how it was mother Russia marrying father America, questioning Obama’s birth certificate, China hackers that plagued the election, hair care, tanning tips, advertisements for Trump Towers/ Trump casino’s/Trump Hotels, unifying America, Rosie O’Donell, preaching he never once went bankrupt, the annoying planes that fly over his mansion, tweeting, and vast voter fraud. I ducked and weaved my way to and fro, out the conference room door into the foyer. As I made a beeline for the club’s front door I saw radio personality and Trump lover Alex Jones standing in the middle of the foyer like he was the eye of a hurricane. Jones was spouting Trump propaganda and undying support for him, like a deranged circus barker. I couldn’t resist so I got in front of him and when he opened his mouth for another decree I rammed my microphone into it, and then proceeded to jam the microphone as far as humanly possible down his throat into his esophagus rendering Jones silent as well as dead the mic cord hanging out the corner of his mouth like a wayward piece of spaghetti.

As I strode towards my car drenched in blood I thought to myself what a wonderful little riot that was.