The comedian Jim Gaffigan completely lost his shit on Twitter last night, ranting about trumpers and how much our President doesn’t give a shit about those who love him, and how despicable those are who love said President.

He lost it. I mean, out of left field, lost his shit.

I can relate.

We’re all there.

Some of us lose our shit through violence and destruction and some of us lose our shit through our words.

I have been losing my shit internally for many months, and it’s getting closer and closer to boiling over every day.

Jim Gaffigan: The comedian whose best material for years focused solely on bacon and Hot Pockets. I never found him funny or entertaining until these past few years. He’s finally turning into a comic that I believe all comics can respect, and that so many of us can relate to.

His material has gotten so damn good.

And last night, he used his voice, and I would imagine a bit of alcohol, to finally speak up. And boy, did he ever.

Thank you for speaking up.

Our country has become so, so ignorant.

Maybe it always was.

And damn I hate writing those words. I hate feeling this way and thinking this way and uttering these words in my head day after day after day.

I live in Fort Worth, and holy smokes, this city is still shockingly red. It’s eating me alive. My neighborhood, overnight, has become filled with half Biden signs and half huge, obnoxious Trump flags. Not signs. Flags.

It’s as white trash as it gets.

That’s where we’re at.

I walk everyday, about 4 miles most days, and look at all the houses in my hood. And look at the people. And I vent to myself on these walks. I lose my shit over and over and over again and utter horrific thoughts until I’ve worked myself up enough and can finally, calmly, walk back home, and lock the door, and get on Zillow in whatever progressive city I’ve most recently been intrigued by, and drool over a new life.

That’s how I cope. By dreaming of blue.

So allll the things, all the things that keep me up at night, all the things that irritate me throughout my days, all these things I’m having more and more of a hard time with.


Like why no one in Fort Worth was taught as kids that you walk/run against traffic and ride bikes with traffic. How do you not know this?


Like why my 72-year-old pre-existing-condition mother is forced to go back into a Dallas classroom teaching dirty first graders when our country is still dying from Covid-19 at rapid rates.


Like why anyone who gets their news from some random page on the internet or has a feeling about something and also has thousands of followers on Instagram automatically has the option of being trusted more than those who actually went through decades of medical school and training.


Like why my neighbors don’t realize 6′ is not the same as 6″ and why I’m still, at the end of August 2020, having people reach out to try to shake my hand. Who are you people and where do you get your news from?


Like why I keep reading blogs from moms who have it so hard that they have to homeschool their kids when they were the ones who chose to have 5 kids. That’s a choice. You made that choice. You realized how damn expensive this world is and you still went ahead and gave birth 5 different times. You don’t get to complain. That was a choice.


I guess that’s it for now. Can you see why I haven’t been blogging? Am I turning into this insane angry woman who hates the world? I think I am. It might be best if I stopped this blog for a bit longer. Maybe I’ll take my own suggestion and talk to y’all in 2021. Hopefully, by then, we’ll be in a better place.

Love, Jen