I keep seeing this meme going around that’s like, “I’ll still be your friend if you voted for Trump, I’ll still be your friend if you voted for Biden…” and it’s making me ragey. 

So writes Sa’iyda Shabazz in the pages of Scary Mommy, where progressive parents display their piety to each other, and where rage and tears, even feigned or delusional rage and tears, are a currency of sorts, markers of woke status. Part of the game.

If you still support [Trump] after the last four years of his bullshit, then guess what? I don’t want to be your friend. Because if you support that monster, you can’t possibly also care about me.

A monster. Specifically, a “racist, misogynist, xenophobic monster.” I suppose we were destined to start in high gear, something approaching opera. It does seem to be the custom among Scary Mommy contributors. Having dutifully denounced Mr Trump as the Demon King, the cause of all human sorrow, Ms Shabazz then goes on to reveal, albeit inadvertently, the extent to which the wider world should in fact care about her, being as she is so lovely and not at all demented.

I know that I have friends who voted for Trump in 2016. And I know I probably have friends who did this year, too. One of them is one of my oldest and dearest friends. To say that I was horrified is an understatement. 

In terms of progressive outpourings, understatement is a rare treat. Let’s take a moment to savour it.

The friend that I knew for sure voted for him? We didn’t talk for three years. I couldn’t reconcile the person I knew with the person who’d do something so awful… As a Black woman who is queer and poor, I know this administration wants to make me a second-class citizen. I cannot associate with someone who even hints at feeling the same.

I think I see the problem. The questionable premise.

My college degree isn’t going to stop [the police] from shooting me dead in the street if they feel inclined.

Of which, it turns out, there may be more than one.

One of our leftist betters encounters his own leftist betters: 

“There’s my Biden sign. Don’t destroy anything.”

Also available in screengrab form.

Consider this an open thread, in which to share links and bicker.

Best friend. (h/t, Damian) || One battery, two magnets. || At last, a mobile bowling alley. || As WWII-zombie-Nazi movies go, this one isn’t bad. || “I hope you find a way to abolish criminals, too.” || Grey Sun. || Radical solution. || Steep sprinting. || A sidelined history of slavery. || Cactus encounter of note. || Today’s word is neoteny. || How computers work. || That’s exactly how I would’ve done it. || The thrill of the Western Electric Model 500. (h/t, Elephants Gerald) || Moment of triumph. || The pale devil and his works, a small compilation. (h/t, Amalama) || The 20 most expensive penthouses in New York. (h/t, Things) || And finally, encouragingly, via Perry, some ladies ponder the issues of the day.

So it’s Lockdown II and The Election That Never Ends. Good times.

Consider this an open thread, in which to share links and bicker.

Oh, and lifted from the comments, this. 

My son needed masks that wouldn’t make him lose his shit when his favourite isn’t clean,

Yes, we’re once again visiting the pages of Scary Mommy, home of progressive parenting and assorted “empowerment.” But don’t worry, the stroppy son in question, the one losing his shit, is a juvenile, a tween, not a grown adult. Unlike his mother, Amber Leventry, who shares with us an account of a shopping expedition. It is, needless to say, a tale of sorrow and trauma:

We loaded ourselves into the van, and while getting out at our first stop, we heard horns honking and engines revving. We looked around to see if there was an old-fashioned car rally that happens in our town once in a while.

Brace yourselves, dear readers.

This was a different car rally but with people with very old-fashioned ideas about what makes America great.

You may wish to grip your chair arms as the world spirals out of control.

My queer family was witnessing a Trump parade, and would end up being stuck in the middle of it while running our errands.

Woke hell is real, people.

“Idiots,” I muttered, and became instantly angry at the pride and self-righteousness with which Trump supporters carry themselves—so much so that they organise themselves to drive through towns to wave their giant Trump flags, honk their horns, and hang out of windows to cheer for a man who breeds and encourages bigotry and violence.

Quite why supporting the current President of the United States necessarily entails being “old-fashioned” is not deemed worthy of elaboration. Nor is it clear how said incumbent “breeds and encourages bigotry and violence.” No clues are volunteered. These things simply are, apparently.

It was shocking how similar all of the people looked: white, middle-aged and older, and seemingly male.

No bigotry there, thank goodness. What with them all looking so similar and being so terribly male. Well, not quite all: