Kimberly Steele

There are reasons why I have blocked you out of my life.  Right now, I am facing the consequences of your actions.  Your paranoia about a disease that has been statistically proven to kill fewer people than heart disease per year has nearly destroyed my business that is twenty-four years in the making.  That’s more than half my life.  You, who attained higher degrees at great cost yet have not been able to do what I managed out of determination, originality, and sheer chutzpah now sit back, demanding the eternal shutdown so you and your loved ones can obtain the communist welfare utopia you think you want.  

I did my best to keep my irritation at bay, but when your derangement over a legally-elected president exploded into its latest virulent form, I had no choice but to bring down the hammer of judgement.  You are, quite literally, ruining my life right now.  Like many Americans, I was just beginning to see a bit of financial prosperity when you cut the economy’s legs off with shutdowns and then riots.

To understand how we got here, I want to go on a journey into your psychology, a thing that you have almost no understanding of despite your general pretenses of being book-smart and expensive psychotherapist addiction.

Once upon a time, there was a senator from Vermont who rose to recognition on waves of the middle class economic frustration.  He was axed in a tragicomedy of high-grade corruption so obvious a third grader could have figured out the storyline.  The result of this cheating was the election of a charismatic Caesar, which if you knew anything of history, you would know is a common event during the decline of Empire. If you weren’t so mentally damaged, you might also know this outcome is better for you and the class to which you aspire than the alternative, which is mass bloodshed and beheadings of a fossilized elite a la Robespierre.  

You operate exactly like a person under a malign spell.  You still have not gotten over the results of an election nearly four years in the past.  Please let that sink in.  There has been plenty of time to sit back and reflect why your party lost and even more time to cultivate ways to do better by potential voters.  Instead of doing this, you have thrown a multi-year tantrum that began with lumpy pink hats.  The excuse at that time was sexual harassment of girls and women.  Part of the first #metoo phase was to pretend you are a witch and throw bad intentions at the alleged misogynist patriarchy; this summed up the zeitgeist adequately.  Your karmic punishment for these bad intentions is a blubbering, senile pedophile you’ve cruelly thrust into the debate chair.

The next phase of manufactured outrage was Russian collusion.  Projecting your own shadow, you cried about espionage and electronic manipulation.  Boy, did you get your rear end handed to you on that one.

After that, it was masks.  You’re still in this phase.  The mask is at once a virtue signal and the grown-up’s version of a binky: a sad, dilapidated totem that symbolically shields its wearer from being perceived as politically conservative.  That’s why you want everyone to wear the mask; just like you would like us to believe there are more than twenty people who want to vote for your demented presidential candidate, you want to enforce the appearance of political hegemony among people who have no interest in backing your party.  Holding the entire economy hostage isn’t enough.  Having the entire mainstream media in your pocket isn’t enough.  Since cable viewership is down, you have discovered you cannot force your way into the public consciousness via the television screen and its ads.  Only a person under an evil spell would be horrified by this, and horrified you are.  You would have George Orwell’s 1984 without envisioning the consequences, and because you are deeply afflicted, you have bankrupted yourself intellectually out of lust of result.

Like the aforementioned French 18th century elite, you are losing your heads due to an acute lack of self-analysis. 

Your final, desperate act is to play the race card.  To do this, you have enlisted an infantry of white, college-educated liberal women and their pathetic, ineffectual male cuckolds.  Behind them, yanking the puppet strings, are viciously racist blacks, Latinos, and Asians, cheering on the disintegration of the working classes as business districts are torched.  Like you, the riots are motivated by a fundamental disconnect from reality.  Large corporations that benefit from times of unrest are unscathed when one or two of their stores are burned to the ground; small businesses are not.  You bleat about systemic cruelty, yet wasn’t it you I saw on Instagram modeling stretch pants or fashionable new Amazon.com outfit/toy?  Wasn’t your new item made via slave labor in the Third World?  You live in a segregated neighborhood, whether it is all white and Asian, all black, or all Latino.  I don’t.  My lower middle class neighborhood is mixed, just like my own racial make-up.  You are voting for the party that put more blacks in jail than any other party, yet this is somehow about police cruelty, not the institutions that control the levers of law enforcement.  Once again, you piss on my leg and tell me it’s raining.  

I have blocked you because you are no longer sane.  I hope this is a temporary condition, but I have no problem if it is permanent.  You need me more than I need you.  You need businesses like mine so the economy isn’t completely given over to the large corporations you claim to be taking to task.  You need my mental stability and my willingness to stand against tyrants.  “By their fruits ye shall know them.” You, who say you are brave, manifest the opposite of bravery in every deed and word.  You have thrown me under the bus, and in doing so, you have become the despised tyrant.  You are not the victim.  You are the perpetrator.  This time, it's personal.  Sayonara.