It’s Been One Whole Year Since the Great Trailer Park Conflict of 2021

Not a day goes by where I don’t think about what happened on January 6, 2021.

Ok, I’m lying. Days, maybe even months, go by that I don’t even think about what happened. Usually, I tuck this day away in my “Caucasian on Caucasian Violence” folder in my file cabinet. It’s right next to my “CDC says: Fuck if I know” folder. But when I do think about it, I think about a myriad of things.

I think about the toxic emissions of Waffle House Employee Meth that resonated into our atmosphere, that day.

I think about what if Black centric groups would’ve stormed the Capitol in a similar fashion. Which lends me to also contemplate which nuclear weapon they would’ve sent. Would it had been a big boy? Or a little junior nuke? Like, a baby nuke. You know, just to wipe out downtown D.C., instead of the whole DMV.

I think about if Black folks would’ve attacked the Capitol, they would’ve created the Sentinels off X-Men to hunt their Black asses down.

I think about how often people spelled it Capital, instead of Capitol.

I think about the Blue Lives vs. All Lives verzuz that happened that day. A verzuz more ghetto than Bone Thugs, Three Six, Gucci Mane or Jeezy could ever produce.

I think about how lit the afterparty was at the nearest Cracker Barrel. I’m willing to bet it was an overflow there and there were no more rocking chairs in the front to sit on. Maybe the overflow crowd went to the Golden Corral? Answers I may never know.

I think about how America’s defense budget has ballooned to the point that it looks like we are fighting the fucking Decepticons, but we can’t protect the center of American democracy from a group of toothless souls.

I think about how worthless this coup was. Like, Congress literally voted for some shit that same day.

I think about how that one Black dude was there, looking lost. Looking like someone who was trying to find his next class at some PWI. I remember us joking he was just there to pick up his stimmy. But nah, he was there participating and shit. Like, at least be a spy or some shit.

I think about that woman who traveled all the way from California died. Imagine dying at that shit. I bet her Heaven Pass is still pending at St. Peter’s Gate due to “Dumb Shit.” Here you are, bum rushing in the name of Jefferson Davis, only to be sitting with Jefferson Davis, sipping on a mint julep.

I think about how brazen and unafraid those folks were that day. It was almost like they’ve been designed their whole like to think law enforcement works for them and not against them.

I think about how Trump told those numb nuts “WE’RE” going to Capitol, only to get his trifling ass back in the motorcade and mosey along, back to the White House.

I think about how much they protect their own. Trump has yet to see the inside of court room for igniting an all out coup against the United States of America.

I think if Obama would’ve done this, they would’ve made track changes to the 13th Amendment THAT day.

So yeah, these are my thoughts. Thoughts that may never be answered or addressed. And I’m ok with that. Sometimes it’s better that way. I’d rather not test that 13th Amendment thought. Like, seriously.

Leslie McLemore writes about a lot of different shit for Black With No Chaser. He is also the Takeaway Kang, the greatest baby father to the dopest babymomma, and the father of two beautiful girls, one of which gets on every nerve he has. The other one is sweet…sometimes. So, you know, balance. Sort of.

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