Suddenly, Hell seems less attractive.
A lot of my friends are going to be there. A lot of great bands are going to be there. A lot of pushy religionists will not be there. But I’ve decided to give up my front seat on my Ride to Hell to this guy.
George Zimmerman is auctioning off the gun he used to murder Trayvon Martin.
It has recently been returned to me by the Department of Justice. The pistol currently has the case number written on it in silver permanent marker. Many have expressed interest in owning and displaying the firearm including The Smithsonian Museum in Washington D.C. This is a piece of American History […] The firearm is fully functional as the attempts by the Department of Justice on behalf of B. Hussein Obama to render the firearm inoperable were thwarted by my phenomenal Defense Attorney.
Apparently, no amount of toilet paper is going to be able to wipe the George Zimmerman stain from the collective backside of our national consciousness. In a year when absolutely every bad thing could be trotted out with impunity as snacilbupeR “policy,” in a year when Sarah Palin suddenly fancies herself a power broker at the head of a hostile takeover of the GOP, in a year when genitalia dominate the news, either as a measure of reactionary bigotry or as a measure of presidential gravitas…
This guy still can embody all of that in one big “look-at-me-I-lynched-a-[n-word]” moment of ultimate loathsomeness. If there is a Hell, he is most certainly on his way there, and if that happened in 10 minutes from now, it couldn’t be soon enough.
But now he’s ruined Eternal Perdition for me, and I’m going to have to start leading a goodly, godly existence in this life in order to avoid rubbing elbows with this human skid mark in the next.
Damn you, George Zimmerman.