Safe Spaces

Well, well, well… look who it is. Once again, my “progressive” minded neighbor has knocked on my door. Look at you, all skin and bones. Not a lot of protein in those kale shakes and mocha latte grande whatevers, is there? You look like half a man. And Sharon tells me you actually let your son dress as Wonder Woman this Halloween? Ridiculous. I’m living next to a liberal freakshow. Makes me wanna puke.

So what is it this time? If it’s about that Trump banner on my garage, you and that bitch from the HOA can both go fuck yourselves.

Oh, that’s what this is about? Yeah, I saw it on “Fox & Friends.” Guessing you saw it on the “Rachel Maddow Jerk-Off Hour?”

Ha! Really? Are you serious? What makes you think I would ever take you up on such a stupid offer?

I’m only gonna say this once, so clean the shit out of ears and read my lips: I am against “Safe Spaces,” and that’s why I won’t join you and your family in your bomb shelter.

What do you have planned for when we’re in that thing? Are we gonna take turns reading poems about how if we had just talked to Kim Jong Un and gave him a hug we wouldn’t be in this situation? Are we gonna sit around and cheer your son on while he puts on dresses and goddamn makeup? Are we gonna all do yoga and play guitar and make vision boards while you and your wife look at pictures of Obama and cry like little bitches?

I’m not some commie snowflake who needs my “feelings protected” by “reinforced titanium” in the impending “nuclear war.” As my father always said, sticks and stones and hydrogen bombs may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.

Yeah, no thanks. Get off my porch, pussy.

Oh, and if that Trump banner is still up after you and and the rest of your snowflakes go back above ground, you keep your little lefty paws off it.

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