Category Archives: rant

Letter to Bill O’Reilly from Kimberly Townsend Palmer, Esq.

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Dear Bill O’Reilly:

This morning, you saw fit to ridicule House Rep. Maxine Waters for her personal appearance. Specifically, you observed her speaking in the House and began to snicker. You apologized because you said all you could think of when watching her speak was… “James Brown’s wig. It’s the exact same wig!”

Ha. Ha. Ha. Ha. You’re so fucking funny.

Might I point out to you that Donald Trump has so much hair glue in his sleazebag, 1980s coke-sniffing, 13-year-old-raping, gangster coif it makes me nauseated every time I see, hear, think, or write about him.

Might I point out to you that you are not even worthy to be stuck to the bottom of Rep. Waters’ shoe?

Might I point out that your books are absymally written, clumsily biased, and badly researched?

I won’t even stoop to discussing YOUR personal appearance. But I WILL add, I know who I’d rather wake up in bed with. And it ain’t YOU or your HAIRMAN.

Most sincerely,
Kimberly Townsend Palmer, Esq.

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Trump, A Secret Family History

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Trump, A Secret Family History (as revealed to me by his secret family!)

When the San Francisco police started raiding Granddaddy Trump’s hotel/brothel down by the wharf, out of sheer spite (because their favorite girl had dragged herself out of the whore business by her own corset & a married farmer down in Bakersfield)… well, when that started, Granddaddy decided things had gotten too hot. Down coast, Granddaddy found a good location near the train line for a hotel in a place with no cops. He couldn’t come up with $1,000 an acre, which is what the owner asked, so Granddaddy filed a placer’s mineral claim against the land. The U.S. Land Office was, and is, corrupt.

Despite the placer’s claim giving him no right to build any structure on the land, Granddaddy built a boarding house. As soon as the boarding house was there? The railroad built a station. To his credit, Granddaddy never attempted to mine gold on the land —the miners themselves were his source of income… when they weren’t mining, they needed to eat & sleep & occasionally find a willing woman. The land’s real owner tried to collect rent – but legal title didn’t matter much to Granddaddy, not then… or now.

“Title” is fiction; perception is reality. In the end, he practically stole that land from the first owner for $100 an acre. And not too long after that, he got himself elected to public office, winning justice of the peace by a vote of 32 for, 5 against. He found himself firmly attached to the government tit & at the same time earning money by violating the law he’d been hired to protect… well… it really didn’t get much better than that, he thought.

From crooked brothel owner to crooked justice of the peace in less than a generation. Not bad for a German immigrant, eh? Granddaddy dreamed big… multigenerational wealth transfers, the long view. He’d teach his son (Daddy Trump) the family tradition. Then his son (Trump) would teach his grandson. That tradition would practically be bred into the bone by the time his grandson would both win (and also not win) the presidency in 2016 (thanks to Russia, James Comey, and the alt-right movement). Think of the great-grandsons! There’d be Trump II, Trump III… well, the possibilities were endless.

Until the impeachment… but that would be giving too much away… I’d better let him tell you the rest himself!

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Shitler’s Apologist-in-Chief

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Shitler’s Apologist-in-Chief

In 2009, when President Obama’s approval poll numbers were high, Kellyanne C. wrote an article for humanevents.com which dismissed approval polls. She said such polls were nothing more than a polite nod of the head. She said they didn’t mean much.

Kellyann C. in 2009: President Obama’s “adulation abroad and a perception of charm and charisma at home is not a mandate for the type of sweeping transformations to the domestic economy and foreign policy currently on the table. After all, Candidate Obama ran on ‘change we can believe in,’ not ‘revolution you must pay for.’”

And this morning, in 2017, on CNN? She utterly dismissed Shitler’s current critics because, “frankly, their approval ratings are half of his.”

Apparently, approval polls are either informative or meaningless depending on who’s writing Kellyanne C.’s paychecks. She is the calmest liar I have ever seen. She must load up on benzos before each interview. She can barely keep her eyes open.

If President Obama had no “mandate” for “sweeping transformations,” what, then, does Shitler have?

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Proposed Articles of Impeachment of Donald J. Trump for Treason

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February 17, 2017 (Friday, all fucking day)

Oy. The presser. Draft the articles of impeachment, ASAP, Gilligan. I’ll go over them when you’re done.

Proposed Articles of Impeachment (as drafted by Kimberly Townsend Palmer)

RESOLVED, that Donald J. Trump, President of the United States, is hereby impeached for high crimes and misdemeanors, and the following articles of impeachment are to be exhibited to the Senate:

ARTICLES OF IMPEACHMENT EXHIBITED BY THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA IN THE NAME OF ITSELF AND OF ALL OF THE PEOPLE OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, AGAINST DONALD J. TRUMP, PRESIDENT OF THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA, IN MAINTENANCE AND SUPPORT OF HIS IMPEACHMENT AGAINST HIM FOR HIGH CRIMES AND MISDEMEANORS.

ARTICLE 1

Donald J. Trump, in his conduct of the office of President of the United States, in violation of his constitutional oath faithfully to execute the office of President of the United States and, to the best of his ability, preserve, protect, and defend the Constitution of the United States, and in violation of his constitutional duty to take care that the laws be faithfully executed, has committed treason and prevented, obstructed, and impeded the administration of justice, in that:

Donald J. Trump, personally and through his close subordinates and agents, has committed treason by maintaining covert and unlawful contact with agents of Russia.

Donald J. Trump, personally and through his close subordinates and agents, has committed treason by providing covert and unlawful aid and comfort to agents of Russia.

Donald J. Trump, personally and through his close subordinates and agents, has committed treason by receiving covert and unlawful aid and comfort from agents of Russia.

ARTICLE 2

Subsequent thereto, Donald J. Trump, using the powers of his high office, has engaged personally and through his close subordinates and agents, in a course of conduct or plan designed to delay, impede, and obstruct the investigation of his treasonous acts; to cover up, conceal and protect his treasonous acts and the acts of his close subordinates and agents; and to conceal the existence and scope of his other covert and unlawful activities.

ARTICLE 3

The means being used to implement Donald J. Trump’s treason include one or more of the following:

1 making false or misleading statements to lawfully authorized investigative officers and employees of the United States;

2 withholding relevant and material evidence or information from lawfully authorized investigative officers and employees of the United States;

3 approving, condoning, acquiescing in, and counseling witnesses with respect to the giving of false or misleading statements to lawfully authorized investigative officers and employees of the United States and false or misleading testimony in duly instituted judicial and congressional proceedings;

4 interfering or endeavoring to interfere with the conduct of investigations by the Department of Justice of the United States, the Federal Bureau of Investigation of the United States, the Central Intelligence Agency of the United States, the National Security Council of the United States, the Department of Homeland Security of the United States, and Congressional Committees of the United States;

5 approving, condoning, and acquiescing in, the surreptitious payment of substantial sums of money for the purpose of obtaining the silence or influencing the testimony of witnesses, potential witnesses or individuals who participated in such traitorous acts;

6 making or causing to be made false or misleading public statements for the purpose of deceiving the people of the United States into believing that he had no involvement in such traitorous acts: or

7 endeavoring to cause prospective defendants, or individuals duly tried and convicted, to expect favored treatment and consideration in return for their silence or false testimony, or rewarding individuals for their silence or false testimony.

In all of this, Donald J. Trump has acted in a manner contrary to his trust as President and subversive of constitutional government, to the great prejudice of the cause of law and justice and to the manifest injury of the people of the United States.

Wherefore, Donald J. Trump, by his conduct, warrants impeachment and trial, and removal from office.

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“The politics of 2016 breaks entirely along lines of identity: first race or ethnicity, followed by gender, level of education, urbanization and age.”

What Trump Exposed About the G.O.P. – The New York Times

https://apple.news/AocAVFxmuSpWor6IikXVhow

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Oprah’s Closet, an essay

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August 14, 2016

Oprah’s Closet, an essay on priorities

It’s Super Soul Sunday on OWN, Oprah’s personal TV network. She sits with an author on a self-help book & discusses how, she, Oprah stands inside her walk-in closet & decides it’s not making her happy anymore.

Assumption number one: we, the viewer, can stand inside our closet.

Assumption number two: we, the viewer, are far enough ahead in the game of “net worth” to be able to discuss whether or not our large walk-in closet makes us “happy.”

Oh, Oprah. And just as I was just about to feel really good about you & your legitimately valuable achievements again! I mean, come on. You name EVERYTHING after yourself, and then justify it by saying it’s inspiring others to reach what you define as their “full potential” or some shit.

What the fucking fuck? Seriously? You just snatched defeat out of the jaws of victory. Who gives a fuck about whether their closet makes them “happy?” Oprah, when did you get lost?

Priorities. Resources. Allocation. Social goals. Civilization. Society. Government. All people are created equal, and deserve at least a level playing field. A level playing field. Let our society make sure that every child starts the game on a level playing field. What we agree upon as humane. HUMANE treatment for humanity. Imagine that, Oprah!

Forget your closet! Let no child go hungry; unwashed; unloved; uneducated. Let no child languish in the care of a family which cannot care for them. NO child. Not just yours. Not just some theoretical children, in the abstract. Real, live, actual, living children, sitting in their living rooms, none of which should be scary, or dirty, or smelly, or empty. We are all equally entitled to the resources of this particular planet. And any other that anybody reaches.

Ain’t nobody owns the moon. Or the sea. Or the stars. Or the air. Or the water. But they WOULD LIKE TO. Therein lies the problem.

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Love Kills

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Love Kills

My adversary and his minions usually attacked me right after we all got off the school bus in our small neighborhood. I’d be walking home, trying to pretend it wasn’t happening, but still hearing the sweaty, red-faced boys from my small neighborhood draw together and trail at my heels like a pack of wolves, barking. I was a dog-girl, they taunted me in my own language. I’ve wasted too much time trying to figure out this cruelty; and at the same time I can’t stop myself wondering why – falling into the black chasm of shame. Ugliness. Who defines it?

I love the idea of a man, regardless.

One of this group of horrid bullies was the first boy I ever kissed. That was the result of a game of spin-the-bottle, behind the holly bushes at the end of the canal. The trashy, sandy space between the seawall and the bowling alley parking lot, where the branches of the mangroves trailed down into the murky water like the sad arms of ghosts. He kissed me there. His lips were wet, trembling, soft as a child’s, and softer than mine. Why’d he kiss me, then? That’s what I’ve asked a thousand times. How often are we tested, and found wanting, and given another chance to learn? As many times as it takes. Neither Heaven nor Hell throw souls away. Souls are the green energy of the cosmos. Protect yours from those who would use, abuse, and dispose of yours.

I love the idea of a man, regardless.

Did you ever kiss someone you wouldn’t be caught dead with in daily life? The answer is yes. You all did; everyone does. But, following your mistake, did you then gather up your friends and acquaintances and confront that (unfortunately) kissed person daily? Did you, and a gang of six to ten of your closest friends, pant and bark at that person as a pack of relentless, nipping wild dogs, depositing flecks of their own frothy spittle onto the back of that person’s fleeing, burning neck? Did you then taunt that ugly person with your ugly sounds of ugliness every single ugly day for an ugly year, or two? Each time it happened, it threatened to swamp my tiny little life, which already sucked for reasons I will not go into here and now.

I love the idea of a man, regardless.

I beat that ugliness which was thrust into my face like a chunk of petrified dogshit… back and back and back… with the mental & emotional equivalent of a baseball bat, a tennis racket, a golf club, a shield, a mirror, a fantasy. My job was to strap that ugly shit into a straightjacket and lock it in the asylum of the mind. On better days my adversary wasn’t cruel, but fast and solid, like when I bounced against him in a crowded game of flashlight tag. His immovable, sweaty arms encircled me that late spring twilight, and though I wriggled and strained to get away, I wondered what it was like; making love with a boy, how it would feel, our naked bodies pressed together, his aroused skin slipping into my aroused skin, male into female, a warm knife into butter. If organized bullying is the modern equivalent of hair pulling… count me out.

I love the idea of a man, regardless.

Counterpoint to my adversary’s cruelty were the sweet, funny, flirty boys seated on both sides of me at the back of the room in seventh-grade English class, a tall one and a tiny one just like Mutt & Jeff. These boys wore their clothes confidently, as if the cloth covering them wasn’t important, wasn’t doing them any favors. The way their smooth skin flowed out of their shirtsleeves made me crazy. It was as if women were a part of them, not something foreign. The taller of the boys once reached out and touched my ass, not sly or shy, just placing his open palm against my turned hip like it was a loaf of bread. He never, ever looked my way without smiling.

I love the idea of a man, regardless.

A few years later, I was almost raped. I made a mistake and went to this older guy’s apartment, as clean and tidy as a church. That guy climbed atop me again and again, rumpling his king-sized, black satin-sheeted bed. It seemed as though hours went by, my legs protecting me like twin automatic pistons, pushing his nude weight off and away. He didn’t become violent; finally he quit trying. But later, I let him teach me how to kiss. To leave off a man’s mouth slowly, gently, instead of rising away like a slap interrupted. The sweetest postlude I ever had? A male model who brought me a warm, wet washcloth, after. His whole body was as hard and smooth and glossy as a horse’s. He held my knees up and softly swabbed me like a baby. I never saw him again.             And, ladies and gentlemen, devotees of love… is there any other kind but the kind that kills? Love is not a lifetime, money-back guarantee.

I love the idea of a man, regardless.

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