For my first blog post under the “Books” heading (this heading will include both fiction and non-fiction), I will write a short, mostly impressionistic little article about one of my most favorite novels, David Foster Wallace‘s 1996 masterpiece, “Infinite Jest.”

Before I get going, I want to tell the reader what this blog post will not be. It will not be in any way “scholarly,” that is to say I will not apply any sort of literary filter to it. The impressions I will give will be my own, and as I am not preparing in any way for this blog post — and as my second reading of the novel in question was concluded almost a year ago — don’t expect any sort of deep insight from this post.

There are a great many essays available online which take a much more scholarly approach, such as this one, an essay which applies the philosophies of Ludwig Wittgenstein and Mikhail Bahktin to the text. I read this essay a while back, not long after I finished my second reading. A major theme of that essay has to do with how the characters in “Infinite Jest” are isolated from each other by the language they use to communicate: that is to say that while they are all (for the most part) speaking in English, their various slang terms and colloquialisms and dialects and grammatical structures and whatnot often hinder any sort of real communication between them. This same phenomenon happens in the real world: people often get into heated arguments over the meaning of this or that word or phrase. I myself have gotten into heated arguments over certain political or philosophical points — both in real life and online — with people who, as it turned out, saw the issue at hand more or less exactly the same way I did. I and my various argumentative adversaries merely used different words to express our opinions, and these words meant different things to me than they did to my (apparent) adversaries. It’s a relatively rare phenomenon — this phenomenon of arguing with someone only to find out you agreed with them from the very beginning — but it does indeed happen. At any rate, as expounded upon in the essay linked to above, “Infinite Jest” illustrates this sort of stunted communication quite well.

But that’s not what I am going to write about tonight. Nor am I going to speculate upon any one interpretation of the novel’s central plot line, like I did with my post about the movie “Donnie Darko.” Suffice it to say that there are various plot points in “Infinite Jest” that are left somewhat open to interpretation.

This practice of leaving loose ends untied, so to speak, was a hallmark of a lot of Wallace’s fiction, including his first novel “The Broom of the System” and many of his short stories. This practice worked to great effect (in my opinion) in stories such as “The Suffering Machine” and “John Billy,” but honestly can get a little bit frustrating, even for the most patient sort of reader.

Actually, it can get extremely frustrating. “Infinite Jest” made me want to call David Foster Wallace on the phone and scream obscenities at him, after I finished the last page of it.

Unfortunately, Wallace had been dead for a little over three years when I first read “Infinite Jest”. Wallace committed suicide in 2008.

Looking back at his fiction, I suppose Wallace’s felo de se is not especially, well, I hate to say it, but, well, not all that surprising. Suicide is a theme in a lot of Wallace’s fiction (including his unfinished third novel “The Pale King“), and “Infinite Jest” is no exception. Depression is also a recurring theme, as is addiction and substance abuse. Apocryphal tales of Wallace’s experiences with substance abuse abound online. You can look into them if you want to; to my knowledge Wallace never really talked about it much publicly.

Addiction is (arguably) the central theme of “Infinite Jest,” one that is (arguably) borne out through the structure of the novel itself. Throughout the novel’s 1079 pages, the reader is swept up to the heights of ecstasy and joy, flung into the gutter of hopelessness and despair, reluctantly pulled back into something close to normalcy — and then it’s over. And you sit there wondering what happened.

So the book sits there on your shelf, and most of the time you don’t think about it, but it’s always there.

And you just know, if you opened the book and read it again, it would be different this time.

You wouldn’t lose yourself to it again.

You wouldn’t obsess over this or that plot point, or scene, or character.

So you open it up and flip around.

And you start reading in the middle of some insanely long paragraph — just some random paragraph at some random point in the book — and after you read a line or two, you begin to remember what’s going on at this random point in the novel, and whose point of view you are peeking in on, and all the thousands of seemingly insignificant little details that add up to a level of scene and character development last seen in the works of Fyodor Dostoyevsky begin pulling you back in —

And you close the book. And you put it back on the shelf.

You don’t have time to read this book again, you tell yourself.

You don’t have the strength.

It took quite a toll on you, emotionally, the first time you read it.

It made you laugh. It made you (almost) cry.

It made you want to throw up.

So you leave it on the shelf for a while.

And then you repeat the process above. Multiple times.

And so you decide to just suck it up and read the whole damn thing again. And so you do. And you’re still left scratching your head at the end. But the experience wasn’t as intense this time. So you put it back on the shelf, satisfied that you have gotten all you can out of it, satisfied with the quite visceral experience of reading this masterpiece of modern fiction…

…but almost a year later, you’re still thinking about it. You know it’s going to take you away from whatever you have going on in your life, you know it’s going to take up a lot of your time and energy…

…you know diving into this book again isn’t going to do you any good, not one damn bit…

…but you want to read it again.

And again.

And again.

Because it will be different, you tell yourself, this one last time.

At any rate, the book itself is quite addictive.

There are any number of web pages where you can read all sorts of spoilers and speculation about various unresolved plot points from the novel. This isn’t one of them. I do not want to ruin the experience of reading the novel yourself, should you choose to read it.

As a matter of fact, I feel like I have revealed far too much about the novel already. I knew nothing about the novel before I read it. A friend recommended it, I ordered myself a copy — from my local bookstore, not off of the internet —  and I began reading it. If you have read what I have written here, you know much more about the novel than I did when I read it, despite my not having revealed much of anything about the actual contents of the novel.

You’re not supposed to know what it’s about before you read it. The story begins in medias res, and from the very beginning, the reader is bombarded with terms and acronyms and various odd colloquialisms that may or may not have ever existed outside of the novel itself. Most of these terms are defined, directly or indirectly, as the novel progresses. Some are not. Some colloquialisms — as is mentioned in the essay linked to above — vary in definition and usage, depending on which character is using them.

Some characters are extremely erudite, some are barely literate. Most are somewhere in between. One finds oneself scouring dictionaries for words that don’t exist, words that have been mispronounced by whichever character happens to be using them.

“Infinite Jest” is definitely a challenge to read. But it’s a challenge worth meeting.

At any rate, I would love to discuss it with you some time.

(After you’ve read it, of course.)


(Note: I was unsure, again, whether to post this under “Politics” or “Philosophy.” I posted it under “Philosophy” because it attempts to get at the heart of what “freedom of religion” actually implies. Apologies to anyone who may be offended.  — MNW)

You know how here in the USA, we have “freedom of religion,” and how it says in the first amendment that “Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof…” and all?

I mean, people talk about the Constitution and the Bill of Rights all the time, then turn around and try to say this is a “Christian nation” and whatnot, when clearly it isn’t and was never intended to be.

Sure, the various denominations of Christianity make up the majority of the religious people in the USA. There’s no argument about that. But what many of these (I have to believe “well-meaning”) folks don’t realize is that by virtue of the establishment clause in the first amendment, that majority means precisely zilch in terms of how the law applies to citizens of the USA.

You can’t make a non-Christian be a Christian. You can’t force people who don’t share your religious beliefs to adhere to the tenets of your religion.

If you want to adhere to those tenets, great! Good for you! As long as your actions aren’t causing harm to anyone else or breaking any laws, by all means, adhere! Adhere to whichever tenets you want! It’s none of my or anyone else’s business what you do!

You say adhering to the tenets of your religion has had a positive effect on your life? Hey, that’s awesome! I am not being sarcastic at all, honestly, I am glad your life is better now than it was before.

You say you want others to benefit from your religion the way you did? Great! Tell them about it. Tell them how it changed your life for the better. Maybe they’ll follow your example. Maybe it will benefit them, too!

But here’s the thing…maybe it won’t. Maybe what worked for you won’t work for everyone. As a matter of fact, let me go ahead and break it to you: what worked for you is not — repeat: “is not” — going to work for everyone else.

You can suggest they follow your example, but you can’t force them to. And if you try to force them to, you are violating their freedom of religion.

And if they tell you, “Hey! I don’t care about your religion! I have my own religion!” or else “Hey! I don’t care about your religion! I think all religions are stupid!” then guess what?

They are exercising their own right to freedom of religion.
They are not violating your freedom of religion by refusing to participate in your religion. They are exercising their own rights!

But getting back to the point of this blog post — or, I suppose, finally getting around to the point of it — I would like to propose something that I think would be beneficial to the nation (and the world our nation is a part of) as a whole:

I would like to propose a new law. This law states that any politician — from a person running for city council to a Presidential candidate — will be disqualified from whichever political race she or he is running in, if she or he mentions her or his religious affiliation (or lack thereof) in the public sphere.

Hear me out! Don’t get mad at me just yet, I implore you!

I am not saying “all politicians should be prevented from going to the church/temple/mosque/whatever of their choice.” I am not saying that at all. Don’t put words in my mouth!

What I am saying is that if we truly have “freedom of religion” in this country, a person’s religious affiliation (or lack thereof) should have no bearing whatsoever on their prospects as a potential office holder.

It’s none of my business what religion you are. Why should I care what religion any political candidate is?

I shouldn’t care. And guess what? I don’t care! I do not give two rotten farts about what religion any political candidate is. I care about the things they want to do while in office. I care about whether those things will benefit my country and the world my country is a part of. I do not care what religion they are, and I do not care if they don’t have a religion at all.

To tell you the truth, the minute, nay, the second any politician starts talking about her or his religious beliefs (or lack thereof), I stop taking that politician seriously.

And no matter what religion you are or whether you’re an atheist or an agnostic or what, you should stop taking them seriously then, too.

How dare I say such a thing? Because the second a politician starts talking about how pious she or he is (or how they think religious people are bad, or whatever), that is when they begin pandering to you. They are not telling you the truth, they are trying to avoid telling you the truth.

I mentioned earlier that Christians make up a majority in the USA. The vast majority of politicians that brag about their own Christianity are Republicans.

If you look at the actual policies these Christian-pandering Republicans endorse, you will find that these policies only actually benefit one group of people: the very wealthy.

Tax cuts for wealthy people benefit wealthy people.

Cutting funding for education, welfare, food stamps, health services for the poor, health services for veterans — all things Republicans do consistently — all these things benefit wealthy people.

It lessens the tax burden on them, and it increases profits for private services they control. Government services ALWAYS cost more after they have been privatized. Always.

This does not benefit any group of people except for the very wealthy.

So why do so many poor and working-class people vote Republican?

Do I really need to point it out?

Are you going to get mad at me for pointing it out?

I suppose you’ll just have to get mad at me then. I apologize for upsetting you.

They vote Republican because they think Jesus wants them to. They vote Republican because very wealthy people who have no interest in anything other than being wealthy talk about how much they love Jesus and how much they love the Bible and God told them to do this and God told them to do that.

It’s horseshit! Every word of it! They are lying to you! They are pretending to share your sincerely-held religious beliefs so you will vote for them.

They take money out of your pocket, they take medicine out of your medicine cabinet, they take food off of your table, my fellow working-class Americans, and you keep voting them back into office!


Because someone told you this country is a “Christian nation.” It isn’t! It never was! And hopefully, it never will be.

Any time any religion gets hold of a government, terrible things happen. That was true at the time our country was being founded — that’s why we have the establishment clause — and it’s true today.

A religious government answers to no one. Why not? They believe their actions are sanctioned by God, or Allah, or Krishna, or Buddha, or whoever. People get oppressed, people get enslaved, people get slaughtered — and if you speak against the government, if you ask the government why this is happening,  you are committing blasphemy!

Trust me, we DO NOT want the USA to turn into that.

So, getting back to my point, we should pass a law banning all political candidates from mentioning their religious affiliation (or lack thereof) in the public sphere.

The same goes after they are elected. The second they mention one religion (or the lack of religion) as being better or worse than another religion (or the lack of religion), at least in the public sphere, they should be booted out of office.

“But wait!” I can hear you saying. “What about their freedom of speech?”

To that, I say that my freedom of religion, as a private citizen, supercedes their freedom of speech as a public figure.

If I am a member of a minority religion, let’s say, and President Nimrod starts telling people his majority religion is best, and my minority religion is bad, by virtue of the fact that he is President, he has lessened my ability to express my religious beliefs freely.

He has, in effect, endorsed a state religion.

I argue that any time any elected official speaks of their religious beliefs (or lack thereof) they are, in effect, endorsing a state religion.

Why do I keep saying “(or lack thereof)”, you might be asking?

Because while atheism is not a “religion,” if an elected official stands up and denigrates religion in the public sphere, she or he has violated the freedom of religion of her or his constituency, also. She or he has designated “atheism” as the official religious stance of her or his constituency, and that puts religious people at a disadvantage.

It’s none of my business what any politician or elected official does or does not believe. And frankly, I do not give two rotten farts what any of them do or don’t believe.

And neither should you.

Thank you for reading.


Fall is here, and I would like to offer a review/interpretation of one of my all-time favorite movies, one that takes place entirely in the fall.

Before I get started, I would like to mention that my Cousin Ronald will be back for more political commentary some time next week, but seeing as how he “ain’t just some lazy goodfornothing what sits in front of a durn computer all day,” and that he “acktuly has a famly and a job to keep up with,” it may be a little longer before he writes another “web blog” post. He wanted me to tell you all that he looked at your comments on my Facebook page, and he didn’t see what was so “gall durn funny” about anything he wrote, but then again he “wasn’t no damn Godless heathen libral,” so it wasn’t surprising that he didn’t know what “Godless heathen librals” would find funny. He told me to tell you he was praying for you all.

If anyone reading has any questions for Cousin Ronald, or would like to read his opinion on any given issue, inquiries can be made to his email address:


He also wanted me to mention that that email address isn’t his real email address, it’s just the one he will use for “web blog” purposes, seeing as how he doesn’t want to be associated with anyone who is already associated with, well, me.

Moving on.

Since I have already written about 200 words concerning something other than the actual subject of this blog post, I will insert a header here, one that is identical to the title, using some basic html commands. I am new to this, so I need all the practice I can get. So anyways, to remind the reader of the subject:


For purposes of this blog post, I am assuming that the reader has seen the movie already. There will be multiple spoilers, so if you haven’t seen the movie, you might want to watch it before you read this. Or maybe not, I really can’t say. “Donnie Darko,” in my opinion, is a movie that can be watched and enjoyed multiple times.

It should be noted, however, that the version of the film I am reviewing is the original 2001 version, not the “Director’s Cut” that was released in 2004. The IMDB default image for the movie title is from the director’s cut, not the original. Here is the DVD cover of the version I personally own, which I procured for five bucks in a discount bin at my local Walmart a few years ago.


And as the reader can tell, the webcam on my laptop is not what anyone would call high quality. That’s fine by me, as a matter of fact I cover my webcam with a square piece of a blue Post-It note 99% of the time anyways. But I am digressing.

I want to say first that I am only “deconstructing” this film in a fairly superficial sense. I intend to take certain elements of it apart and view them in relation to each other, but not in any sort of seriously academic sort of way.

So if some college student out there who happens to be a fan of “Donnie Darko” finds this blog post, I wouldn’t recommend that they use it as a source for any paper they intend to turn in for a grade. But who knows, maybe I will provide some insight or other that they failed to think of on their own.

Moving on.

I would like to explain the title of this post: it is a reference to a film I saw as a freshman in a film lecture class at the University of Arkansas many long years ago. The class was taught by Thomas Frentz, who I hope will not mind my mentioning his name here on my blog. His film lecture class was one of my all-time favorite classes during my six years as a student at the U of A, and I have a lot of respect for the man. However, if he wishes, like Cousin Ronald, to not have his good name sullied by association with the likes of me, I will remove it from this blog post.

What I want to express, however, is that his class had a profound effect on me as a movie-goer. After taking that class, I was no longer able to simply watch a movie passively. Every movie I saw following that class had to be taken apart and studied. And on the one hand, this approach to movie viewing has given me the ability to appreciate movies on a much deeper level than I ever had before.

But on the other hand, it made me much more critical of movies, in such a way that many wildly popular movies became simply painful for me to watch. I suppose that was a fair trade-off, but following that trade-off, I don’t think that I would be a very fun person to go to the movies with. And here I am digressing again.

The title of this blog post is a reference to a short film titled “Occurrence At Owl Creek Bridge,” based on a short story by Ambrose Bierce.

In the film, a man — more specifically, a soldier of some sort — is about to be executed by being hanged from Owl Creek Bridge. He stands on the bridge, a noose around his neck, and he walks out on a plank. Another soldier is standing on the other end of the plank. The executioner soldier steps off of the plank, and the man falls.

When he falls, somehow, the noose slips from around his neck, and he falls into the creek below. He swims to the creekside, frantically, while shots are being fired at him from soldiers on the bridge. Somehow he manages to escape, but he does not stop running. The remainder of the short film consists almost entirely of him running. Towards the end, he sees a woman’s face — presumably that of his wife, girlfriend, or even possibly his mother — and he ends up very close to what the viewer can only guess is his home, a large house with (I believe) the woman standing out front, her arms open, ready to embrace him.

And just as it seems like he is about to embrace the woman — or maybe just as he embraces the woman; as I said I only saw the film once, and I think that was in spring of 1999 — the film abruptly cuts back to Owl Creek Bridge, where the man is shown hitting the end of the rope, which he never actually slipped free of. The majority of the film actually occurred entirely in the doomed man’s mind, in the second or so between when the executioner soldier stepped off the plank and the doomed man reached the end of the hangman’s rope.

In other words, the majority of the film was merely a frantic sort of waking dream that the doomed man was having at the instant of his death.

I am not certain if “Donnie Darko” director Richard Kelly was consciously paying homage to “…Owl Creek Bridge” with “Donnie Darko” — the DVD commentary track from the DVD pictured above suggests that he may not have been — nonetheless the two films are quite similar.

On the DVD commentary, Kelly points out several minor details that most viewers — even self-described “critical” viewers such as myself — might not notice, even after multiple viewings. For example, after Donnie wakes up on the side of the road at the beginning of the film and rides his bike home, the red car he passes

is the same car that runs over and kills Gretchen Ross near the end of the movie. This car belongs to Frank, who we find out at the party scene near the end, indirectly,

is dating Donnie’s older sister, Elizabeth.

Another detail that even a self-described “critical” moviegoer such as myself missed was that Donnie wrote a letter to Roberta Sparrow (a.k.a “Grandma Death”), and this is what caused her to be in the street just as Frank happened to be coming back from his beer run, just as Gretchen is lying in the middle of the road. If “Grandma Death” hadn’t been standing in the middle of the road as a result of her finally getting a letter — recall the scene from earlier in the movie where one of Donnie’s jackass friends says “somebody ought to write that bitch”? — Frank would not have swerved to miss her and accidentally run over Gretchen.

And Donnie wouldn’t have shot Frank in the face.

Of course, even a casual viewer could pick up on how Frank’s eye has been shot out when he appears in the theater earlier in the movie

or how when Donnie is taking his pills and Frank appears, Donnie is stabbing Frank in the same eye that is shot out later.

But there are things Richard Kelly mentions in the commentary, such as how Donnie has to bring an “artifact” to a certain point — I am not certain if this “artifact” is the jet engine

that detaches from the plane Donnie’s mom Rose and younger sister Sam are flying on, or if this “artifact” is Gretchen’s dead body — that suggest that maybe Kelly was actually promoting the whole “Philosophy of Time Travel” aspect of the movie as a real thing (at least within the movie itself) and not…well, I would rather not say just yet.

There’s also the matter of the weird “Abyss“-looking things that I can’t find a gif of. You know, like when Donnie, his dad, Dr. Fisher, and Dr. Fisher’s jackass bigot son Ronald are watching football, and Sam is skipping around following that weird watery-looking thing coming out of her chest, and then one of those things comes out of Donnie’s chest, and he follows it upstairs and finds the gun he ends up shooting Frank with? Remember that part?

“I hope they go for a safety.”

Really, Ronald. Shut up. Stop talking. Jackass.

But wait…my bad…it was Donnie’s other jackass bigot friend Sean who told Cherita to “go back to China.”

Donnie had shitty friends. No wonder he had emotional problems.

Anyways, what I am getting at is that there are a lot of things in the movie that simply don’t make a whole lot of sense, strictly speaking. And as the movie progresses, things get weirder and weirder.

The movie isn’t really all that weird at first, not counting, I guess, that the protagonist wakes up on the side of the road at the beginning,

but after Donnie takes his pills, which the viewer can only assume have something to do with his sonambulism, the movie gets stranger and stranger. He doesn’t see Frank until after he takes a pill for the first time, and after that, more and more weird things start happening.

It is my opinion that Donnie takes the pill, goes to bed, and begins dreaming. And the rest of the movie is a dream, not counting the very end where it shows Donnie’s family crying and firemen removing the jet engine from the house and whatnot.

“Sit next to the boy that you think is the cutest.” I mean, come on! Where does that sort of thing happen, outside of a teenage boy’s dream?

It’s also somewhat important that his mother pressured him to take the pill. She was no doubt acting in what she thought was the best interest of her son.

But what happened, at least in the original version of the film (in the director’s cut, the pills were revealed to be placebos), is that after feeling guilty for calling his mom a “bitch,” Donnie decided to take her suggestion and take the pills his psychiatrist Dr. Thurman had prescribed.

And that night he didn’t sleepwalk.

And that night, by some (probably physically impossible) freak accident, a jet engine falls from the sky and lands directly on Donnie, killing him.

The remainder of the movie is, essentially, a dream. But unlike “…Owl Creek Bridge,” it isn’t just the protagonist having the dream. Every character in the movie — or at least the ones shown waking up in the final sequence — is sharing the dream.

Isn’t that hilarious?

…but I might be all wet. At any rate, “Donnie Darko” is one of my all-time favorite movies.

S. Darko,” however, is terrible. Just awful.

Sorry, Sam.

Thank you for reading.


Before I commence to writing here on this web blog, I would like to interduce myself. But I ain’t gone give you no real infermation, because Obummer ain’t gone put me in no database, for to say when I go before no death panel. I don’t do none of that Facebook mess neither, for percisely the same reason.

I was doing some looking into my family tree on the internet here, and I fount the name “Michael Nathan Walker” way on down the line. I asked Jeeves about that name and fount this here web blog. It ain’t much wrote here yet, but I have to say so far I am flat-out appalled to know this libral fella what writes here on this web blog is my cousin.

DISTANT cousin.

We is kin somehow or other through his daddy’s momma’s famly, and seeing as how both of them two are up in Heaven now, it ain’t gone hurt neither of em to be mentioned here. But I ain’t gone tell you my actual real name, because I got family I don’t want connected with this libral fella and his un-Godly ways.

But I wanted to set my libral cousin – excuse me, my libral DISTANT cousin – straight on a few things, and so I sent him a email I got from some guy come and preached at my sister’s church a while back, and what do you think he did? He turnt around and tried to tell me all the truth in that email was baloney.

And librals wonder why we good decent folk hates em so much!

I told him a very good friend of mine that don’t never lie about nothing had sent that to me, and I would be danged if I was gonna set there and let a dang slimy libral like him call my friend a liar, especially some libral writing on some uppity assed blog what ain’t even got no opposing views wrote on it.

So my distant cousin, being he’s lazy (like all librals) and don’t want to write on his own web blog, he suggested I share my views here when I felt like it, instead of sending him a bunch of emails he ain’t asked for and didn’t want to read.

Librals is scared of the truth, is what it is!

I told him I didn’t want my good name associated with no name like his, so he says if that was so well why not just pick a name and use it, cause don’t but a handful of people even look at this web blog no way. Write whatever I want to, he said, just put some made up name on it.

So you all can just call me Cousin Ronald. My name ain’t really Ronald or Ron or Ronnie or nothing like that, I just like the name Ronald a whole lot, being’s that’s the first name of the Great Communicater himself, Ronald Reagan.

He was a Prince among men, that man. He knew the only way everbody in this country was going to get right was to get Jesus. He said our kids ought to be praying in school ever day, and he said the Ten Commandments ought to be in ever goverment building.

The Great Communicater Ronald Reagan also said everbody ought to have guns, and any kind of guns they want, not just no pistols and hunting rifles and whatall but assalt rifles and as big a durn clip as they wanted to put on em.

Ronald Reagan was a leader. He wasn’t no actor up there acting like he was a leader. He was a leader.

And I done made my interduction so long I ain’t even got space to talk much about that abomination on TV the other night, that Democrap debate. I didn’t pay much attention to it no way.

That mess was so boring I didn’t know what to think. All them jokers talked about was “global warming” this and “economy policy” that. Didn’t nobody say much of nothing about Bengazzi, or how Socialist Sanders wants to give all my paychecks to a durn bunch of immigrants can’t even talk right.

You come to my country, you speak English! And you speak English good, to, else you ain’t suppose to be here!

And most important, didn’t none of em say nothing about Jesus. We got freedom of religion in this country, and if everbody don’t have the same religion as me, what kind of freedom is that?

Anyway I just wanted to interduce myself, and I did. I hope maybe I will bring in some decent reader ship to this web blog, instead of just a bunch of commie pinko librals.

You all have a blessed day.