“Kim Jong-Un said…whoaaaaa!”/Image: Licensed Adobe stock, ArtFamily.Â
Come sit next to me, Alt-design buffs. On this dreary, drab, drinking-and-drugging-seems-appealing day–the third in what’s promised to be a stretch of five–I hope you’re sitting in a comfortable chair as you read this, because you should be cozy while the silent killer that is heart disease, which takes too many lives each year, causes cholesterol to obstructs the blood attempting to work its way through your arteries. That’s my wish for all of us on the right, in fact–dying but not knowing it. And it’s happening to the Republican party because of the suicide pact we got into with Trum–so mission accomplished!
All right, all right! That’s it Alt-ies, take it outside! And by “outside,” I mean “inside,” which is where mass-market, plastic home furnishings, my stock in trade, can be found in that identical-yard, kill-me-monotony that is contemporary, suburban dying…er, living! Yes, living! And if you were thinking that this Freudian slip means I don’t love my conserva-life, well, then you’d be wrong. And wrong isn’t right. Also, it’s not Alt-right.
Related: See the 3 places you must visit before a Nuclear Armageddon wipes Iran off the map!
Consider this: even amoebas can figure out what’s going on in the milieu they ooze about it. Anyone or anything with the simple ability to gain an understanding of what’s going on around them via their five senses and respond to that understanding in a reasonable way–so not us, Mueller-Probe-finding-denying fellow dim bulbs–has heard by now that President Donald Trump’s sad, sad excuse for diplomacy, “solving” upwards of six decades of conflict on the Korean Peninsula with the only thing he can do well, which is to bully, went kaput, kablam, and kerpow faster than you can say, “I’m sorry if it’s fucked up to say this, but I don’t like kimchi!” Of course, it’s not “wrong” to say it, it’s rude, unseemly, and course–so three of our faves in the right-wing community!
Everyone Loves a Klutz
Well, everyone loves to laugh at a klutz. And given that we’ve shown ourselves, dear conservative comrades, in 2018, to have no problem with being total laughingstocks that everyone’s pointing and snickering at, then eventually feeling sorry for because it’s just pathetic how stupid we are in so many ways–you’ll simply love my first home decor suggestion.
Run a transparent fishing line across the interior threshold of your front door. Ever time you come in, trip over it. As floor gets closer and closer to your face and your hands fly up and out to break your fall, smile. This is what Trump feels like since North Korean leader Kim Jong-Un threatened to renege on peace talks. By risking a trip-the-no-light-at-the-end-of-this-tunnel fantastic each time you enter your abode, feeling that unsettling combination of reprimanding self-censure and physical discombobulation as you do, you’ll be putting supportive stumblebum vibes out into the universe. Eventually, they’ll make their way to Trump. And a numbnuts who can barely who’s insensitive enough to make fun of the differently-abled during a campaign speech will surely pick up on and gain succor from them.
There’s Such a Thing as Too Clean or Too Fine
Another good way to intentionally cause a mishap by way of thick-headed clumsiness is to walk into a super-clean glass door or ultra-fine-grade screen door. There’s just nothing like the anger and disconcert you feel when you expect to continue moving in one direction only to find your entire person bouncing backward, Richter-Scale reverberations making your insides shake and shimmy. Such fun–and a beautiful, poetic way to say to anyone lucky enough to be watching your brain-dead pratfall, “I love President Donald Trump.”
And: The top 3 Right-Wing rom-coms you must see TODAY!
See, dear readers, how interior design can be meaningful, too? That’s why I do this, this constant sacrifice of giving people bad ideas about how to arrange furniture.
Back In Time
It’s said that Greek playwright Aristophanes, after the stratosphere-level success of his comedic play, “The Clouds,” began teaching courses on fictional-humorous storytelling at The Learning Annex in Athens. On the first day, he would drizzle some water on the linoleum in the cement-blocks-and-fluorescent-lighting classroom where his course was held. Sandal-clad students would step in the “nero,” inevitably, and the ones who were watching would invariably and involuntarily erupt in fits of toga-shaking laughter as their peers bit it.
This is another way you could confirm to yourself, make your family partake in, and bring visitors to your domicile in on Trump support. As they exclaim angrily, perhaps, laugh if they have good character–a long shot, I admit, as most of your guests will be right-wingers, like us, and therefore in possession of the lowest character around–laugh at themselves, you might say something like, “See–a staggering, blundering approach to diplomacy–particularly when nuclear arms are involved–isn’t so bad!” As you and maybe some of your Alt-friends hurriedly, harried-ly try to sop all the water on the floor with way too many non-post-consumer-waste paper towels, your heads might even collide! When you can bring a concept home with interior design choices and tactile-kinesthetic folly–well, then you’ve really made your point.
Ain’t Nothin’ Gonna Break My Stride
So sang Matthew Wilder in his 1980s, inspirational-pop classic. If Trump had an ounce of earnest charm like that musical classic, he might make this his cell-phone ringtone. But he doesn’t, and so he won’t.
Meanwhile, in your case, I have some advice. Get up and dust yourself off, my little Alt-charges. Put your hair back in place like a drag queen straightening her wig, shake the wrinkles out of your clothes like a weirdo Republican legislator who no one believes is under 75 but insists on Botox-ing into fully-frozen-face territory, and know that that awful, awful moment after you first stumble when you sort of are like, “Stop fucking looking at me!” will pass. Have some dignity about it, though, for the Lord’s sake! You can be clumsy and overall-hot at the same time, and what else matters?!? Not a whole lot, that’s what. Not a whole lot. And if the if-silence-equals-death-which-it-does-then-how-are-you-assholes-still-alive Republican party-goers can manage to speak up, maybe we can all recover from this and actually advance the prospect of Southeast Asian–even world–peace. That seems like a big “if” right now. But, who knows! Well, I do: a seasoned, skilled, savvy stateswoman like Madeline Albright couldn’t broker North-South-Korean peace, so the dinghuses on Team Trump really, really Alt-spectacularly won’t be able to. They might even make things worse.
“Whoops–nuclear war! Shucks–I’m such a goof!”
Also: Join our One Good Thing™ campaign and–just–one good thing.
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