“Make America Great Again” by Illma Gore
11″X14″ Pastel Pencils, 2016
“Make America Great Again” is about the significance we place on our physical selves. One should not feel emasculated by their penis size or vagina, as it does not define who you are. Your genitals do not define your gender, your power, or your status.
Simply put you can be a massive prick, despite what is in your pants.
Does this seem right to you guys?
I’m so sick of selfish American men clutching their stupid gun collections and screaming, “Mine!” like a bunch of bratty little two year olds. That childish reflex is the very thing that makes mass shootings a part of our culture in the first place. It’s all just American gun lust.
I’m a gun owner, but please, put me in a database. Make me carry a license. Require me to buy insurance. Please, at the very least, do all those things.
We don’t have to live in a society where mass shooting tragedies arrive like regularly scheduled programming. We can change the laws. We can change the culture. We just have to get rid of American gun lust.
You know, I haven’t said it in a while, but fuck the police. Fuck ’em all right in their fat stupid mustache holes with their own fucking guns.
“If you live in Indiana and are pregnant, don’t ever tell or text anyone that you are ambivalent about being pregnant or are thinking about an abortion because if you have a fetal demise the fact that at one point you might have contemplated an abortion means you had something to do with it, medical evidence proving otherwise be damned.”
(I always thought Indiana was filled with kind and stoic heartlanders. How did it suddenly become the new Florida?)
Yes, Robert Durst killed those three people. Of course he did, and yes, he will probably spend the remainder of his life incarcerated, but so what? He’s a bored old psychopath with a hundred million dollars and nothing better to do with his time than to burn it all down.
All of this is by his design. The documentary. The arrest. The eventual trial. He wants this. He needs this. Hell, he practically planned it all himself. Like all men in their late sixties, Robert Durst began reflecting on his legacy, and about a half decade ago, he reached a tipping point where his legacy became more important than his liberty, so what did he do? He tapped Andrew Jarecki on the shoulder and dangled his story like a piece of raw, dripping meat.
Admittedly, “The Jinx” is one of the most brilliant pieces of true crime docudrama I’ve ever seen, but that doesn’t change the fact that HBO funded Bob Durst’s final bid for infamy. Everyone involved with the project was patting themselves on the back after the arrest, but they should all know better. Now Durst gets his legacy, served up by the inevitable onslaught of a cable news murder trial so sensational that it might even eclipse coverage of the 2016 presidential election.
Andrew Jarecki is a smart guy, and sure, he’ll deserve the Emmy he’s inevitably going to win, but I hope when his head hits the pillow at night, he feels a little twinge of self-awareness deep down in that dark sticky place he won’t talk about in interviews that he was Robert Durst’s pawn all along. I hope he knows he got played. Shit, we all got played, but it makes for great television, and there’s a lot more to come.
Yeah, I’ll be watching. Of course I’ll be watching. I won’t be able to look away, and I’ll feel bad about it too, because I know that ultimately it doesn’t matter what happens at his trial.
Robert Durst already won.
Last night, a man with a pocket knife was shot dead by the LAPD on a bustling corner of Hollywood Boulevard. Of course, no officers were hurt.
“No officers were hurt.”
I’m constantly reading that sentence these days. It’s the go-to closing line for every dry and dreary news report about some poor bastard being beaten up, choked out, or gunned down by the police.
The news that no officers were hurt is supposed to be a good thing. It’s supposed to be an assurance. For me, it’s not. For me, it’s an accusation.
If no officers were hurt, then tell me why another man is lying dead in the fucking street. If no officers were hurt, tell me how you can even begin to justify the use of all that lethal force.
“No officers were hurt.”
Every time I read that line, it feels like further proof that police are trained to kill before risking even the slightest injury to themselves. I’m sorry, but I’m just not okay with that.
We give these men badges, and in exchange for that authority, we expect them to be held to a higher standard. We give these men guns, and in exchange for that power, we expect them to put the safety of others ahead of their own.
They aren’t living up to that standard — not in Los Angeles, not in New York, certainly not in Ferguson, and probably not in your neighborhood either. Time and again, all I see is evidence that the police aren’t putting anyone else’s safety ahead of their own.
Do you know how I know that?
“No officers were hurt.”