BLOG: This is a Protest Post

Ugh. Fucking Donald Trump. What a fucking shitshow. I hate everything he does. Everything. Every fucking thing.

The doormen just asked me how I feel about Trump. I made this exact face at him:

>:(

He promptly responded by saying, “I don’t like him either. He’s a Troublemaker.”

Seriously, bro. No one here cares what I think about China, which honestly, I don’t think about it ever for my own safety and peace of mind.

Disclaimer: This post has nothing to do with China or Hong Kong. This post is for Americans, by an American, about American fucking bullshit. I know you see me, Big Brother. Allow me to slay away.

That being said, everyone here definitely cares what I think about Trump and I’m just here to say… I hate him. I fucking hate him. I hate him, his goon squad, and everyone who voted for him and/or supports him and his cult in any way shape, or form.

So as I mentioned in my previous post, I was already having a shitass day. Then I came home and logged on to the black box of doom and saw he came for My Gurl Anderson Cooper today.

>:( >:( >:(

>:( >:( >:( >:( >:( >:(

>:( >:( >:( >:( >:( >:( >:( >:( >:( >:( >:( >:(

I promptly took off my glasses, set them down on the kitchen table, and did a whole protest dance series set to Madonna’s Vogue.

*starts clapping and shouting loudly*

Voguing is not a crime!

Qu’on leur coupe la tête!

Yeah, that ’s right, I said it.

Time to turn the music up.

*record scratches*

Off, off, off with their heads!

Dance, dance, dance till you’re dead!

Heads will roll, heads will roll,

Heads will roll on the floor!

Off, off, off with their heads!

Dance, dance, dance till you’re dead!

Heads will roll, heads will roll,

Heads will roll on the floor

On the floor

Off, off, off with their heads!

Dance, dance, dance till you’re dead,

Heads will roll, heads will roll,

Heads will roll on the floor,

On the floor, on the floor, on the floor!

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

Welcome to my Official Declaration of Self-Deportation from the so-called United States of America. I hereby declare myself officially in exile, à la Voltaire. I vow not to return until I have achieved some kind of peace in this world.

Not sure what that will look like given the fact that I am a glorified mess of a human being, but I do know that I am extremely motivated right now.

*blasts radio loudly*

This is for my people, my party people,

This is for my people, my motherfucking people, come on

*record scratch*

[cut to shot of Betsey carrying a boombox down the block blasting Public Enemy’s Fight the Power]

1989 the number another summer (get down)
Sound of the funky drummer
Music hitting your heart ’cause I know you got soul
(Brothers and sisters, hey)
Listen if you’re missing y’all
Swinging while I’m singing
Giving whatcha getting
Knowing what I know
While the Black bands sweating
And the rhythm rhymes rolling
Got to give us what we want
Gotta give us what we need
Our freedom of speech is freedom or death
We got to fight the powers that be
Lemme hear you say

Fight the power
Fight the power
Fight the power
Fight the power
Fight the power
Fight the power
Fight the power
We’ve got to fight the powers that be

As the rhythm designed to bounce
What counts is that the rhymes
Designed to fill your mind
Now that you’ve realized the pride’s arrived
We got to pump the stuff to make us tough

From the heart
It’s a start, a work of art
To revolutionize make a change nothing’s strange
People, people we are the same
No we’re not the same
‘Cause we don’t know the game
What we need is awareness, we can’t get careless
You say what is this?
My beloved lets get down to business
Mental self defensive fitness
Don’t rush the show
You gotta go for what you know
Make everybody see, in order to fight the powers that be
Lemme hear you say

Fight the power
Fight the power
Fight the power
Fight the power
Fight the power
Fight the power
Fight the power
We’ve got to fight the powers that be!

Fight the power
Fight the power
Fight the power
Fight the power
Fight the power
Fight the power
We’ve got to fight the powers that be

Elvis was a hero to most
Elvis was a hero to most
Elvis was a hero to most
But he never meant shit to me you see
Straight up racist that sucker was
Simple and plain
Mother fuck him and John Waynen
‘Cause I’m Black and I’m proud
I’m ready and hyped plus I’m amped
Most of my heroes don’t appear on no stamps
Sample a look back you look and find
Nothing but rednecks for 400 years if you check

Don’t worry be happy
Was a number one jam
Damn if I say it you can slap me right here
(Get it) lets get this party started right
Right on, c’mon
What we got to say?
Power to the people no delay
Make everybody see
In order to fight the powers that be

Fight the power
Fight the power
Fight the power
Fight the power
We’ve got to fight the powers that be

What we got to say?
Fight the power
What we got to say?
Fight the power
What we got to say?
Fight the power
What we got to say?
Fight the power!

*record scratch*

Jungle boogie, jungle boogie, jungle boogie,

Jungle boogie, jungle boogie, jungle boogie,

Get down, get down, get down, get down

——-

I could do this all day, fam. I got a whole playlist.

*chants loudly*

Dump Trump!

*record scratch*

You are now about to witness the power of street knowledge

Straight Outta Compton

City of Compton, City of Compton

*starts chanting again*

Fuck tha police! Fuck tha police! Fuck tha police!

Right about now NWA court is in full effect
Judge Dre presiding in the case of NWA versus the police department.
Prosecuting attourneys are MC Ren, Ice Cube and Eazy motherfuckin’ E
Order, order, order, Ice Cube take the motherfuckin’ stand
Do you swear to tell the truth the whole truth
And nothin’ but the truth so help your black ass?
You goddamn right
Well, won’t you tell everybody what the fuck you gotta say?

Fuck the police comin’ straight from the underground
A Young nigga got it bad ’cause I’m brown
And not the other color so police think
They have the authority to kill a minority
Fuck that shit, ’cause I ain’t the one
For a punk motherfucker with a badge and a gun
To be beatin’ on, and thrown in jail
We can go toe-to-toe in the middle of a cell

Fuckin with me ’cause I’m a teenager
With a little bit of gold and a pager
Searchin’ my car, lookin’ for the product
Thinkin’ every nigga is sellin’ narcotics

*record scratch*

You better check yourself before your wreck yourself!

Cause I’m bad for your health
I come real stealth, dropping bombs on your moms
Fuck car alarms, doing foul crime, I’m that nigga with your Alpine
Sold it for a six-o, always let tricks know
And friends know, we got the indo’
No, I’m not a sucker sitting in a House of Pain
And no, I’m not the butler, I’ll cut you (huh, huh)

Headbutt you, you say you can’t touch this
And I wouldn’t touch you, in fact, mother-punk you (uh)
Here to let you know boy, oh boy
I make dough, but don’t call me Doughboy
This ain’t no fuckin’ motion picture
A guy or bitch-a, I’ll get with you, and hit you
Taking that yak to the neck, so you better run a check

So come on and chickity-check yourself, before you wreck yourself (uh)
Chickity-check yourself, before you wreck yourself, boy! (Yeah)
Come on and check yourself, before you wreck yourself
‘Cause shotgun bullets are bad for your health

Mic-mic-microphone check (one, two! Check it!)
Mic-mic-microphone check (one, two! Check it!)

*record scratch*

Yes, the villain does get fucked in the end

With no Vaseline

*claps* Say it with me loud now!

I’LL NEVER HAVE DINNER WITH THE PRESIDENT!

I got more, baby! You want more?! Because I got sooooooo much more!!!

For now, I’ll leave you to fill in the rest. It’s up to you now, fam. Get out there tonight and Vogue all right up in someone’s face. Let them know it’s not okay to hang us from trees or tie us up to the back of a pick-up truck and drag us through town square before they tie us to a fence and torture us until we bleed out and they leave us there to die.

This post is dedicated to Matthew Shepard, Venus Xtravaganza, and all the rest who fought and died for our right to survive.

SUCK MY DICK, TRUMP!

*record scratch*

Hey you!

We got your war!

We’re at the gates, we’re at your door

Hey you!

We got your war!

We’re at the gates, we’re at your door

We got the gulliotine, we got the gulliotine!

You better run!

We got the guillotine, we got the guillotine!

You better run!

We got the guillotine, we got the guillotine!

You better run.

————

End Credits Roll…

Songs and Artists featured in this post by order of appearance:

The House of Xtravanganza

Vogue — Madonna

The French People in general

Heads Will Roll – The Yeah Yeah Yeah’s

4 My People — Missy Elliott

Fight the Power — Public Enemy

Jungle Boogie — Kool & the Gang

Fuck Tha Police / Straight Outta Compton — NWA

Check Yo’Self Before You Wreck Yo’self / No Vaseline — Ice Cube

The Guillotine — The Coup

Betsey Horton

Writer Extraordinaire!

BLOG: This is a Protest Post

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