Ezra Klein: “The rise of Donald Trump is a terrifying moment in American politics”

“Trump is the most dangerous major candidate for president in memory. He pairs terrible ideas with an alarming temperament; he’s a racist, a sexist, and a demagogue, but he’s also a narcissist, a bully, and a dilettante. He lies so constantly and so fluently that it’s hard to know if he even realizes he’s lying. He delights in schoolyard taunts and luxuriates in backlash. […]

Trump’s path to power has been unnerving. His business is licensing out his own name as a symbol of opulence. He has endured bankruptcies and scandal by bragging his way out of them. He rose to prominence in the Republican Party as a leader of the birther movement. He climbed to the top of the polls in this election by calling Mexicans rapists and killers. He defended a poor debate performance by accusing Megyn Kelly of being on her period. He responded to rival Ted Cruz’s surge by calling for a travel ban on Muslims.When two of his supporters attacked a homeless man and said they did it because “Donald Trump was right, all these illegals need to be deported,” he brushed off complaints that he’s inspiring violence by saying his supporters are “very passionate.”

Trump has a zero-sum take on most issues. America only ‘wins’ if it ‘beats’ China, Japan, and Mexico. People must lose for others to win. Not a good political approach to governing America.

Trump’s other gift — the one that gets less attention but is perhaps more important — is his complete lack of shame.

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Experiencing trauma is NOT an excuse to treat others poorly.

I totally understand feeling weary and/or holding on to some irrational feelings but you need to recognize and deal with those feelings.

You cannot use it as an excuse to harass, bully, and/or lash out at people while crying victim because someone of that gender, race, sexuality, hair color, whatever was cruel to you.

Be rational and treat others how you want to be treated. Thank you.


5 against 1 Gang Fight! Like Clockwork every day at 4:30pm they have a Gladiator War @the_james_gang_bullies_atx @myrtlethefrenchy @miltonthefrenchy #frenchy #frenchbulldog #bully #pitbull #jessejames (at JJFU)

Wednesday night means Marge & Mason are all ready to #bullyandchill ! #bully #chill #kidsandpits #mypitbullisfamily #bullbreedsofinsta #pitbullsandkids #pitbulllove #bullylife #cuddlebuddy #bullybreedscuddlebetter #bff #besties #originalbully #inbullywetrust ⚓🐶⚓

camerica96 asked:

Love, love, love the mgg road trip!!! Will there be a part 3?

Yes there is!  Right here.  I am so glad you are enjoying, because here is Part 3, comin’ ‘atcha!

(Part 1  Part 2)

After fighting over the check with Matthew for 10 minutes, you finally gave in, making an agreement that the next meal the two of you shared would be paid for by you.

But something told you you’d end up fighting him for it anyway.

Getting out to the car with your to-go soda, Matthew cranks the car and moseys on over to the hotel across the street, a Holiday Inn Express.

“I’ll be right back,” he says, parking the car under the awning and striding inside.

Sipping on your straw as you feel the cool air of the air conditioning blow against your face, you hear a rapping sound at your window, causing you to jump as your wide-eyed stare flings over to see Matthew motioning you to roll down the window.

“Alright, we have a couple of options,” he says, your heart pounding in your ears as your eyes begin to water.

“Y/N…are you alright?” he asks.

“Yeah…yeah, I’m alright,” you breathe as you feel a tear traipse down your cheek, “you just scared the shit outta me.”

“Oh god, I’m so sorry!” he says, reaching out and wiping your tear away as you take another long sip of your drink, swallowing deep as you try to regulate your breathing.

“Alright…you said we had options?” you ask.

“Yeah…” Matthew trails off, his gaze full of sorrow and guilt.

“It’s alright.  It’s just late and I’m exhausted,” you say.

“Well, the sleeping arrangements are as such.  They’re apparently pretty booked, so we can either do a room with two full beds and one bathroom, or we can do a suite with two separate rooms and bathrooms, with a joining main room and a little kitchenette.  Depends on how long we’re staying,” he adds.

“Well…it’s a road trip.  There anything around here to do other than sleep?” you ask.

“They have pamphlets inside.  Wanna take a look?” he asks, thumbing over his shoulder.

Opening your door as he helps you out of the car, your eyes drooping as you walk inside, your eyes scan quickly over the brochures, pamphlets on dinner shows and hiking trails and sights to see.

“I’m exhausted,” you breathe, shutting your eyes as you start to waver on your feet.

“Alright,” Matthew says, helping you steady yourself as he gets you back to the car.

“I don’t care,” you say, shaking your head, “lets just spend a few days and see what happens.”

“Sounds good to me,” he smiles as you begin to rub at your eyes, your contacts drying out as you grow impatient.

“Fucking contacts,” you murmur, hearing a light chuckle come from Matthew as he turns to walk back inside, your fingers working the dry plastic out of your eyes as you throw them on the ground, closing your door in a huff.

“Fucking bad vision…” you whisper, taking another sip of your drink before leaning your head back, hearing the driver’s side door open and close.

“Alright.  I got the suite, so I’m gonna drive us around back.  We’re on the top floor, and it’s got a balcony and everything, so-”

Waving your hand at him as he catches it within his, you lob your head over and take in his blurry form, the faint outline of a smile on his face as he places your hand on his leg, still covering it in his.

“You’re adorable when you’re tired,” he chuckles.

“Suck a dick, Matthew,” you murmur, hearing his laughing grow as a faint smirk crosses your face.

It was nice being able to be yourself with someone.

Feeling the car come to a halt, you sigh as you open your door, unclicking your seat-belt and heaving yourself out of the seat of the station wagon.

“I’ll get our luggage,” Matthew says as he pops the truck, his blurry hand outstretched trying to hand you something, “you just get inside to the room.”

Nodding slowly as you take a door key from him, you sigh in relief as the faint outline of a door with buttons comes into view, your heart soaring as you hear it ding and open.

Traipsing inside as you press the button to the third floor, you prop your body against the wall to the elevator as it dings open, your tired legs carrying you out into the hallway as you look around, trying to find your room.

Looking down at your room key, you hear a voice behind you.

“It’s suite 304,” Matthew says.

Jumping as you yelp, your hand pressing itself over your heart, you feel your breathing pick up as Matthew walks up beside you.

“Are you trying to kill me!?” you squeak, your hands shaking as Matthew’s face gets close enough to finally come into focus.

“Remind me not to watch scary movies with you,” he smiles.

“Not unless you want me hopping all over your lap,” you breathe, turning your head and sighing with relief as you see the numbers “304″ come into view.

“Alright…well?  Maybe just one scary movie,” Matthew says, winking at you as you roll your eyes.

“Men.  Aaaaaalways about sex,” you drawl.

“No, not always,” he says, pushing the door open to the suite as you walk past him, his body holding the door open as he watches you walk through, “sometimes it’s just about being close to someone.”

“Uh huh,” you mock, throwing your head back to look at him as you hear the door close with a thud.

“I mean, soft skin is a plus…” Matthew trails off.

“I knew it!” you say in mock accusations, “Caught ya.”

Hearing him laugh was a wonderful noise.

Plopping down onto the couch as you take another long dip of your drink, you hear Matthew rummaging through something as he comes and sits beside you.

“I think things’ll be easier with these,” he says, holding out something to you as you look down at his hand.

Your glasses case.

Looking back up at him, his grin encompassing his face as you slowly take the case from him, you open it up to reveal the thick-framed tortoise-colored glasses.

“Ah, my coke bottles,” you say, grabbing the frames as you click the case shut.

“We had a deal,” he muses.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” you say, sighing as you twirl them in your hand.

“Why are you so hesitant to wear them?” Matthew asks, his voice low and soft as he scoots closer to you.

“I’ve just always had terrible vision, and it wasn’t always possible to afford thinly cut frames for such a high prescription…” you trail off, opening up your glasses as you place them on your face.

“I was teased a lot in middle school for my braces and my glasses,” you breathe, your eyes watering as you turn your head slowly towards Matthew, his eyes dripping with sympathy as he brings his fingers up to your face, lightly tracing your cheek.

“I know what it’s like to be bullied,” he says.

“I’m sorry…” you trail off.

Feeling a thick silence descend upon the conversation, you move your hand to his leg, settling your palm onto his thigh as you find his gaze again.

“What happened?” you ask.

And as the two of you stay up and talk through the night, your free hand constantly fidgeting with your glasses, your exhaustion takes a backseat to your conversations of bullying and name-calling as you find Matthew staring intently, hanging on to every word as his hand slowly descends upon yours, his thumb lightly tracing circles into the palm of your hand as he tries to suppress the smile on his face as you slowly sink into the couch, recounting your horrendous high school days as your glasses sink onto the bridge of your nose, your free hand no longer fidgeting with the glasses on your face.

but what about afterwards?


I got my hands on Ruby’s pedigree (at last!) and it revealed that her breeder - a big question mark up until now - not only registered her as the wrong colour, but didn’t name her either; she has a generic kennel club name. She’s pretty much untraceable as far genetics go - if you search her KC name, it leads to a bull mastiff also (I’m guessing due to error) under the same name. 

For me, her KC name has very little consequence really - but I’m so frustrated that her life was started off with so little care. It seemed like the beginning of a story that just seemed to get worse and worse for her as she got older. Her breeder got rid of her at 6 months because he wanted to breed rottweilers instead. She arrived with us much, much later at 7 years old, overweight, arthritic, covered in lumps and bumps and sores; her condition was so bleak that the vet told us that if left in this state, she wouldn’t last another year. 

Well, we’re nearly two years on from that now! She goes running every day in the park or the woods, is on a special diet for her joints and heart.. and she’s happy. And that makes me happy.

tldr: I love my second-hand bullie baby.

People have always been bullied because of their differences (i.e. sexual orientation, body image, socioeconomic status - just to name a few) but is there a useful way to react to feeling oppressed? And is there a cure to bullying?

Image: bullyingDM2810_468x720 by Pimkie. CC BY-SA 2.0 via Flickr.