Regret

Sike! I don’t regret not voting for Kamala one bit, as I believe she would’ve been a way worse president than Trump, who also didn’t get my vote.

With as much yang as I talk about Trump, you might think that I regret not voting for Kamala Harris for President. 

You’d be wrong.

In fact, I believe we’d be even worse off with Harris—whom I actually considered voting for—than with Trump, who never had a snowball’s chance in hell of getting my vote.

Trump is a thug gangster who is brazenly greedy and does touchdown dances about it. But I’ll take that any day over Harris, Hillary, Obama, Biden, and the rest of the limousine liberals who just as greedy, only stealthier.

Trump and his ilk represent the rot of our society, but his presidency forces us to face it. With him in charge, we have to confront the spiritual and societal mess we’ve created head on. The limousine liberals, on the other hand, aim to lull us to sleep by telling us we’re great when we’re actually grimy.

Take Trump’s decision to cut off food assistance for 17 million kids. It’s heartless, yes—but at least it exposes how fragile and unsustainable our system truly is. Perhaps that wake-up call will push us toward food sovereignty, self-sufficiency, and sustainability instead of dependence on bloated bureaucracies that feed greed more than people.

The limousine liberals, on the other hand, would rather keep folks on just enough government handouts to survive—never enough to thrive—so they can maintain control through complacency and dependency. They run the system, profit from it, and preach compassion while enjoying the same ostentation as Trump, just with better PR.

While Trump owns resorts, limosine liberals like Obama, Harris and Biden own several vacation homes apiece. The only real difference is that Trump makes his properties available to the public, while they hoard theirs behind gates and good intentions. They’re not about change—unless it jingles in their pockets.

I used to look up to Obama as a paragon of virtue, but I’ve come to see he’s just as selfish and greedy as me, if not more so.

Brother Barack, bless his Hawaiian heart, is serving us pig’s feet and calling it a luau. 

And last fall during election season, Kamala Harris was the guest of honor at that farcical feast.

So when it came time to vote, I went with love over Vice President Harris. I don’t believe she or the limousine liberals care much more about the greater good than Trump and his crew. Like him, they’re way more concerned about staying in power and maintaining the status quo that keeps them gilded and comfortable. The only real difference is that Trump flaunts his greed in ∞K high definition, while they’re covert about it and hide theirs behind virtue signaling and diversity hashtags.

Even New York City mayor-elect Zohran Mamdani—who beats his chest about the “common good” louder than anyone on the national stage—comes from a privileged family with a compound overlooking Lake Victoria in Uganda, attended elite private schools, and graduated from fancy, expensive colleges.

I wanted to give Zohran the benefit of the doubt, but when I learned he identified as African American on his Ivy League college application to boost his chances of getting in, it made me think he’s probably just another limosine liberal who talks a good game but is really just about advancing his own cause.

Brother Zohran knew good and well he wasn’t no brotha—he moved to the U.S. when he was seven and lived in Queens, a borough with no shortage of bona fide brothas. But passing as Black to get ahead? Maybe he should’ve gotten in to Columbia—that’s a move straight out of the poverty-pimp playbook and proves my man’s at least got some Negro tendencies in him.

Meanwhile, my meathead best friend whom I grew up hoopin’ with probably couldn’t tell Zohran from zucchini bread. He’s hella Trumpy because, like most of ‘em, he doesn’t know any better. The day after the election, while Democrats were doing victory laps over a few scattered wins, I told him I generally get along way better with Trumpy folks these days than limousine liberals.

Even if their politics make me nauseous, at least a handful of Trumpy folk are honest with themselves. They might lie to others, but they know exactly who they are. That makes it possible to talk, laugh, and put the BS aside.

Liberals? Can’t do it. They’re not honest with themselves, which makes it impossible to put the BS aside—even if I wanted to. 

Because if you’re not honest with yourself, at the end of the day all you’re left with is a pile of big, beautiful BS.