I mean, it’s your fault, but you’re not going to like it.
See, we were cool with the status quo.
Yeah, we wanted abortion to go back to the states. Yeah, we wanted gun rights expanded. Yeah, we wanted our kids safe from LGBTQ indoctrination.
But it wasn’t enough to fight about.
We thought you were like us, that we could argue and make small gains and lose some ground but everything staying fairly level and levelheaded.
But boy, were we wrong.
Because while we were copacetic and just going along to get along, you were pushing.
You pushed abortion. From “legal, safe, and rare in these specific instances”, you pushed now to the point of post birth abortion on demand for any reason.
You pushed gun control. From “background checks and gun free zones” to now “red flag laws” which deny due process.
You pushed “the rights of gay marriage” to now the “right of LGBTQ teachers telling kindergarteners about their sex life.”
And during all of this, you pushed disagreeing politically to calling us Nazis and justifying violence against us, justifying harming our families and our jobs.
So now, we push back.
We pushed back with Trump.
We pushed back with state legislators.
We pushed back with school boards.
And we haven’t even begun to push back, kiddo.
We’re going to push abortion back to the “rare” side in many states.
We may give you a timeframe like 12 to 15 weeks, about what your beloved “other industrialized nations” give.
We may not.
We’re going to push back on gun control.
We’re not going to accept your offer of “you can keep some guns until we decide to get rid of them.”
We’re going to elect legislators to make ownership easier. We’re claiming our rights back.
We’re going to push back on the LGBTQ agenda.
We’re going to make your lives miserable when you try to get our kids to question their gender.
We’re going to remove the power you think you have and put it in the hands of the parents.
You had a chance to call a truce.
You had a chance to be in control and be happy.
You had a chance to just leave us alone.
You didn’t.
You pushed and prodded and provoked.
And you’re threatening to commit violence now?
Good luck with that.
There’s a saying about the danger of making people who want to be left alone get involved.
You’ve made us get involved.
So all of it, from here on out, is squarely on you.
Enjoy the whirlwind you have so deservedly reaped.
Look, I get that for many of you, Hillary and Harris not being elected is like slapping your momma.
And by the emotional immaturity many of you still have in your late 20s and 30s, they probably should be slapped for doing a piss poor job of raising adults.
Your need to be coddled and have a safe space on hand when you don't get your way so you can throw a rage fit and scream obscenities like a young teen trying to be edgy in front of the cool kids... that is on you.
Your mental health is your problem. You deal with it.
Rogan caused this by asking questions and pointing out how bad you are?
Elon caused this by letting people talk and see what's really going on?
"It's disinformation!"
Or, hear me out, you're just wrong.
Maybe young men are tired of being shit on.
Maybe women are tired of being told their worth is only their uterus.
Maybe workers are tired of being told the Democrats can save them while burdening them with taxes.
Men had Star Wars - women invaded
Men had sci-fi - women invaded
Men had video games - women invaded
Men had D&D - women invaded
Men had comics - women invaded
Men had Men’s only clubs - women invaded
The only thing men have anymore is either solitary or you fuss at us for.
Yes, there were some women on these things from the jump. But they understood men and let men be themselves. They were cool.
Then uncool women decided they wanted to take those things from men who built the fandom then kicked them out for complaining about the low tier quality
Men can’t have a safe space because you will demand to be let in.
And if somehow you are deflected, you’ll use your male minions to take over and open the door for you, and once again kick men out.
It was September, and the air was finally starting to feel like fall.
I had taken a trip to Frankfort, Kentucky, to do a small bourbon trail. The plan was to hit a few distilleries in the two days I had sprung free from my responsibilities.
I had eaten dinner and was wandering downtown, looking in store windows on the way back to my Verbo’d room, when the thought of a nightcap garnered my attention.
“Don’t mind if I do,” and scanned the vicinity for a bar.
As I turned to see, a sign on the building behind me caught my eye.
“Blue-Eye’s Bourbon Bar” it read.
I opened the door and stepped inside.
The room was lit well: not too bright, not too dark. The oak bar and the dark wall paint played with shadows and gave movie scene ambiance.