In my experience there are pretty much four trump voters.

1: Actual trolls: these people believe in nothing, have no agenda, no morality, they simply want to piss people off and if possible gain power over others via manipulation.

2: Fucking rubes: these people go along with whatever the people they’re most attracted to/afraid of/envious of are saying. And refuse to listen to anyone else. They are the petulant senior citizens brainwashed by faux they are the Tate supporters and Rogan stans. Often the young and naive or old and foolish

3: Predators: Some of these are not so different from the rubes, they are the folk who would rape kids if they could and thus assume that to levy the charge against trump is just to smear him for something anyone with his level of wealth and influence would have done. They claim outwardly that they support him because hes ‘good for the economy’ 🙃 or he’s going to end all wars or he will fix X, Y, or Z tiny facet of American culture that has absolutely no bearing on the vast majority of people’s entire lives much less daily lives.

4: You know the ones: Yes these are the gleeful sadists, the sad ruined creatures who can only derive happiness in this life through inflicting misery on others the xphobes of all stripes who wish to see themselves wrapped in the mantle of power by virtue of birth and nothing more. The lowest of the low and the most pathetically easy to pander to.

Rehabilitating her victims is an obvious. To the point of being offensive to be forced to explain it. Priority.

Jesus was for sure a foot guy.

You want Ice? In your water? Just leave it outside Idiot

I just had a compound fracture to my Tibia and fibia so getting up is a bitch. But God. It’s going to be a long hard road to me giving up this urinal bottle.

That honestly sucks. Like it’s fine for inter EU shipping but seems like it will result in a lot of products straight up being unavailable in Europe eventually.

When you get a refund it doesn’t include shipping. So yep.

“Not bad.” He burped, burped again. “Fizzy, though?”

“Because it’s fast acting. It was ditch water an hour ago. We sieved it, brought it up to room temp, dumped in the culture. It’s live, too—add some precursor, it’ll come back. Survives in your urine. Just save some, you want to make more.”

“Communist beer?” Hubert, Etc said. The best bon mot he could scrounge.

He was better when he had time to think.

“Nazdarovya.” She clicked her cup against his and drained it, loosing a bone rattling belch when she finished. She gave her chest a thump and scared out smaller burps, refilled the glass.

“If it comes out in pee,” Hubert, Etc said, “what happens if someone adds the precursor to the sewers? Will it turn to beer?”

She gave him a look of adolescent scorn. “That would be stupid. Once it’s diluted it can’t metabolize precursor. Flush and it’s just pee. The critters die in an hour or two, so a latrine won’t turn into a reservoir of long lived existential threats to the water supply. It’s just beer.” Burp. “Fizzy beer.”

Hubert, Etc sipped. It was really good. Didn’t taste like piss at all. “All beer is rented, right?” he said.

“Most beer is rented. This is free. You know: ‘free as in free beer.’” She drank half the cup, spilling into her beard. It beaded on the crinkly refugee stuff. “You don’t come to a lot of Communist parties.”

Excerpt from “Walkaway” - Cory Doctorow