Went down to the "Patriot" rally thing yesterday. Proud Little Boys and all. I figured, well...……...the way I've been acting just isn't healthy for me anymore. The whole caring about my country thing, you know, democracy being important enough to fight for, decency, equal rights for all. That crap. The way the situation has become, e.g. pretty much hopeless - well, frankly its enough of a challenge keeping my blood pressure at a tolerable level even during good times. It's just, I don't know. Time to throw in the towel. Surrender, give up.
Sell out.

So I went to the coward parade thingee in hopes of signing on. Becoming a sold-out anti-America anti-Democracy fascist loser, AKA a trump voter.

The nice fella carrying the pretty nail studded baseball bat and sporting a face/head cover looking suspiciously like a woman's hijab (although I didn't say anything cause it didn't seem the right time or place) directed me to the helpful guy at the membership table. Clearly taking fashion clues from Red-Neck-Stupid-Fucker quarterly (think "Cosmo" for trump supporters), to include somehow squeezing into leathers about five sizes too small, dude was actually wearing one of those Roman helmet things, full face cover and even with the bright feather stuff along the top. Cause when your a coward you do that. Hide behind masks and stuff. Anyway, and even though it quickly became apparent the helmet disguise was making this person sound exactly, exactly like Darth Vader, he went over the list of membership rules and duties with me. Most were easy. You know, be hateful blame everyone but yourself cite the bible as justification for your sins sound stupid break stuff and of course - hide behind a mask (and of course only pursue these activities when surrounded by a bunch of losers like yourself cause to do it alone would require that one thing you so desperately desire but will never attain: courage.) Gets to the last item which quickly identified itself as most important, and I'm starting to become a bit nervous. Yet really wanting to join up, to become a trumpie - I went on ahead and dropped my pants and shorts. Without even bothering to unfurl the tape measure and in about a billionth of second gladiator boy announces I am ineligible to join. That I cannot be a member of the group an account of me going (way) over their maximum allowed size of.........wedding tackle. Um, Schwanschtooker. Tallywacker. Plonker, pork sword, purple parsnip, winkie, willie, joystick.

I have a penis and therefore am not allowed to play with the Proud Little Boys.

My hopes and dreams of joining that sad freak show otherwise known as the trump circus have been dashed. 

What am I supposed to do now?