The Revolution Will Not Be Julienned

Note: I started the following post a couple of nights ago, in a drunken haze. I've spent most of this week in a drunken haze, and that shit's gonna stop, because I'm just tired of the drama I keep creating around myself, plus having to scroll through my social media accounts every morning to find out if I made a spectacle of myself the night before is appalling. I'm a better, stronger person than this, and I'm going to start acting like it.

Anyway. I remember imagining an online quiz called "Who Said It: Donald Trump or a Racist Potato?" Which made me laugh. I don't remember doing much with the idea because I didn't feel like tracking down actual racist comments made by the Donald, not that it would have been difficult. But apparently I did come up with a number of bon mots for the potato and began a post around them. As you'll see, I dropped the quiz angle. I don't know what angle I was going for, really, and eventually I must have fallen asleep (OK, passed out).

I think the idea of drunk-me slapping together racist-potato memes is hilarious, in an ultimately sad and pathetic way. The idea is funnier than the memes themselves, by the way. Drunk-me is not half as funny as she thinks she is. But I'm just going to put them out here for your perusal, as a glimpse into why I don't always post every night. Sometimes it's because I'm coming up with ideas that are, you should pardon the expression, half-baked.

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Look, there's a new Republican candidate for President of the United Fucking States of America!

It's a racist potato.

It's a pretty clear challenger to the frontrunners.

It's sort of yellowy-orangey, like Trump's hair.

But the potato is its own candidate.

And it has a compelling platform.

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And there it ends.

Yeah, I misspelled "bacon."

I really want some potato skins now.

The post is over. Go home.