Got an Overdose of Woe?

At least there’s good news locally.
By Susan Bankston

The Republican Party is now running on Bud Lite and rage. There is no longer any actual thinking involved—and Honey, I have neither the time nor the crayons to explain it to them.

As you probably suspect, the November election gave me an overdose of woe. I don’t think I have felt this bad since Elvis died.

I have decided that not all Trump supporters are racist, homophobic, or misogynistic. But still, at some point they had to decide that having a raving racist, homophobic misogynist is not a deal-breaker.

Yeah, I am mad enough to chew nails and spit rivets—or eat fire and spit smoke, depending on what day it is. I will attend the Two Million TaTa March on Washington-DeeCee in January, where I will be baffled at the counter-protestors waving a Confederate flag and hollering at me, “Get over it. You lost.”

What? Have they actually listened to themselves saying that? Put down that damn flag, you fool, before I use it to part your hair.

As of press time in mid-November, the Name That Cabinet reality show at-home edition indicates that the leading contender for Attorney General is Jefferson Beauregard Sessions, a man named after a Civil War general and the president of the Confederacy. Attorney Damn General. You know, the protector of civil rights, not civil wars. As Alabama’s contribution to the Build-a-Wall movement, Sessions was turned down for a federal judgeship during the Reagan administration for making blatant racist statements while prosecuting African Americans in Alabama. Holy damn cow, y’all.

If you plan on celebrating this holiday season for no other reason at all, do it for spite. Remind your Republican family members that Donald Trump is going to open a casino with their Social Security money and buy hair products with their healthcare money.

And that’s not even the worst part. You wanna know the worst part? No taco trucks on every corner.

Trump won with his “that woman shouldn’t be allowed to run for president” argument, which you may remember has been very effective for 140 years.

This election was like if your friends were deciding on what to do for dinner, and three of them vote “pizza” while two others vote “kill and eat you.” Even if pizza wins, it’s still a big problem. We can get rid of Donald Trump by impeaching him, but we’re still stuck with the damn fools who voted for him. I guess we can herd them into all those re-education camps Obama built but never used. On the upside, it appears those folks are pretty easy to herd.

On second thought, here’s why we should not impeach Trump: Mike Pence. The next four years would be a never-ending homophobic scavenger hunt. Mike Pence does not like you. Personally. It’s personal. I’m pretty certain he has your name written down somewhere, with a big red X beside it.

On the local side, we have better news. You live in a safe blue county in a frightfully red state.

Damn, y’all—all of our OutSmart-endorsed Harris County judges, plus district attorney Kim Ogg, got elected. So that means I can drive around Houston shooting out stubborn traffic lights with my 12-gauge shotgun and not even get a call from the grand jury. (No? Really? I thought I could do that now. Well hell, I should be able to do that.)

I hope your holiday season is warm, wonderful, and filled with glitter. If you’re thinking about getting me something, please remember that my favorite color is shiny.

And remember: Republicans are the reason we have to have warning labels on everything.

Susan Bankston lives in Richmond, Texas, where she writes about her hairdresser at The World’s Most Dangerous Beauty Salon, Inc., at


Susan Bankston

Susan Bankston lives in Richmond, Texas, where she writes about her hairdresser at The World’s Most Dangerous Beauty Salon, Inc., at
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