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I am at the end of my rope.  I just had to try password reset w/ Word Press five times to get in.  It’s 4 fucking a.m..  My new used PC crashed and it took me two hours to get my stuff off it and pack it to return.  My printer malfunctioned any number of times.  I am very tired.

But I’m not too tired to say this.

You dildos who think you have the right to own the AR 15:  my weapon of choice is a knife, friends, and I would like nothing better at this hour and this moment to slit your throats.  That’s right; shame on me, but I pack a knife.  I’m a woman living alone.  I’m sure I would lose a mano a mano fight with you, but I would die for a good cause.

If you want a fight, we will give you a fight.  And by we I mean those of us who detest you for your illiteracy,  your stupidity and your barbarism.  We hate the way  you look and the way you speak.  You are human filth and you reek of sin.

Just listening to your outburst today when the father of one of the dead Newtown children was testifying before Congress– you soulless pigs from hell, spewing more garbage about the 2nd amendment right in front of him, is intolerable.

Are you happy now?  Are you happy  now that you’ve ignited a bonfire of hate and distrust in me and others, notably Lawrence O’Donnell and other people who have a lot of trouble turning the other cheek?  And that I’m speaking and writing in a way unworthy of a poet?

Because try taking out the president, or taking to the street pretending that you are under a tyrant’s thumb just because he, and we who reelected  him don’t trust your trigger-happy kind, you backwater white trash.

It’s been a long goddamn life.  At the moment I see no point to being upbeat, positive or trying to curry anyone’s good will.  I am enraged.  I’m sure that my rage will kill me at some point, but at least I’m honest about the fact that I am feeling like coming after you, roaming the streets until I find one of you, and putting you down like scum.