Candace Owens… hi! Clear and conspicuous conspiracies can’t continue without a cost. Candice’s confidence in creating content that claims to catch the country’s most crooked cops’ corruption seems genuine. But now that I’ve called Candace’s name, if she starts subliminally slighting and allusively attacking me—if she’s not already—I’m calling “cap!” For the record, I’m a fan. Now hold on tight, because this is a tricky take. Stupidity is sure to send some people straight to the not so sandy shores of a sea stricken with sick, sad, and unsaved souls. If denial is a river because it runs from its source while refusing to recognize the necessity of being nurtured, then delusion is an ocean that denies it’s wet with water, cold and completely consuming, treacherous at times, full of fish, deep and dark, and blue as a beaten and battered bitch just because it can’t conjure the courage to confess that the climate controls it and the Moon moves it. By the same token, humans hate honesty because it highlights how much help they need, which incinerates the idea of independence. Americans aren’t angry enough to appreciate anarchy because being controlled relieves them of the duty of doing anything independently. Like I said, solitude is the scariest shit in the solar system for simple people. Speaking of simple, should I share a story about my forgettable father? So, one time my deadbeat dad picked me up in a minivan packed with passengers that I wasn’t particularly familiar with. It was me, some goofy girl, and her boyish brother. Me being me, steadily saying no to strangers, I was silent as I sat in my seat wondering where we were going. We pulled up to a popular park in Decatur—the one by the big pool behind the police department. I’d played at that park pretty much my entire childhood, so I was comfortable there. We all got out of the van, the shorty sat on the swing, and the boy and I played around the park. Eventually, the chick called a confidant and had a catty conversation. I never really paid the goofy girl any attention, but as she started screaming her scathing statements, I realized that she was really upset. Listening to her livid and lashing out, I figured that the feisty female was frying me up for ignoring her. She surely wasn’t satisfied with whatever she disliked about me and the situation, but I found her frustration and fiery rant funny. I may have been about 15 at the time. I’ve never been the type to think, “there’s a human with a vagina, let me find out if I can fuck her!” Basically, a bitch is a bitch until she’s proven worthy of worship. Intelligence and maturity go together like ice-cold and malt liquor. I’ve never been immature or unintelligent, so I was always more appropriate, attentive, and ascetic than the adults around me. I didn’t respect my deadbeat dad because he never cared to care for his children, lied like his life was on the line and as if all answers were to avert apprehension amid an intense interrogation, was never faithful to the females that he fornicated with, and just wasn’t an upstanding guy. Why would I ingest information from an inimical influence? This isn’t hate, it’s honesty. Like I said, therapy ain’t nothin’ but telling the truth to temper trauma. As opposed to bottling up bitterness like basic bitches and running from reality like the rest of humanity, I face my feelings without fear. And I’m annoyed by anybody who assumes that being straightforward is a sign of sadness. Which is why I keep reminding weak-ass weirdos that if they kill them motherfuckin’ selves, they wouldn’t have to worry about why the world would work wonderfully without weak people in it. You’re as needed as negativity, which is never necessary. Anyhoo, I’m bringing up bad families because I believe that tradition is a tether that traps and thwarts the thought processes that encourage evolutionary progression. Holding on to what’s holding us back is simply stupid. Love and live long with the loved ones who let you love and live like you love to love and live. But when bad people’s bullshit begins to bother you so badly that you begin to become bad, beat it! Fuck family that ain’t “family.” Shit, the fuck-ass Feds feel like they’re a family, right? Well, imagine that I’m a black Dr. Phil—with a thick, luscious afro—and I’m about to fix your fucked-up family’s foolishness. Soon…
Omniscience