Joining the Yang Gang Bang

I lost my faith in humanity in 2016, let’s be honest here there were plenty of times that I lost my faith and almost reclaimed it again. Three years later I found myself digging out of a hole that I had created, wallowing in my own self pity trying to ignore what was happening in the world. I went about my days zoning out and feeling my heart racing as some snippet of news weaseled its way into my ears and caused my blood pressure to rise. Then out of an unexpected source I heard the voice of a man who was speaking… logic? This was a foreign language, one that had been lost over the years like Latin or Greek. The more I listened the more came back to me and I realized a sensation building up in my gut. At first I thought I was going to be sick and join the legion of binge drinkers in town, but instead it was a flutter that feeling of falling in love again for the first time. It wasn’t that either, it was the lost sensation of hope that I had forgotten or tossed away wishing it would never return.
I was listening to a podcast with a presidential candidate named Andrew Yang. While he may be confused as one of the stars from Crazy Rich Asians the title fits in his own personal life. It wasn’t the promise of $1000 dollars a month that caught my attention although I’m not going to throw away the idea of a little extra spending cash, no it was the notion that somebody running for office was paying attention for once. The fly over states, the forgotten white trash middle America that the political elite had forgotten about for the last fifty years had become his new stomping ground and he knew they were hurting.
We have heard this bullshit before. Mitt Romney thought middle class started at $250,000 a year. Dubya sounded like a guy that you would meet in a bar and bullshit with on weekends and he ended up being a guy you would meet in a bar with bullshit ideas and everyday was a weekend. Obama flew on by continuing the status quo and making little difference in the lives of most people. McCain lost his mind with another run for president. John Kelly was a Dubya clone. Then there was Hillary. We have had a long line of elite yuppie trash that made their run for the ultimate seat of power and none of them listened or could give two shits about what was happening to fly over, middle aged, working class, Budweiser drinking, America.
Yang appears different, lending himself to any podcast that will have him, writing a book devoid of the usual, “I was born to do this” prose that litter the shelves of the local Barnes and Noble. I have yet to see a moment when Yang was lost for words and didn’t know what someone was talking about. In his own words “if you are tired of being fucked than helped me unfuck you and vote for me in 2020.”
Fuck ya, words I can get behind. This is the kind of thing you will never hear come out of the mouth of Bernie Sanders. Oh Bernie, the man who should have been president. The man who was bend over and dry humped by his own party. It has been too long. You time came and went. I’m sorry but I can’t get behind you or Biden and who knows what would have happened if McCain had gotten in with brain cancer running through his head for god knows how long. Yang is 44 and while some companies have failed others that he started went on to create jobs and make a profit, something Trump never figured out. My heart fluttered when he said he left the career of a lawyer unable to continue the life of a professional liar.
Yang, the longshot, the man who the major media has been ignoring, is my guy. Like Bernie and like Trump he is the guy that the people least expect to pull through to the end. Nobody saw Obama coming and Trump was a joke the entire race. Now we have a second chance at something new. I may be pushing him as some kind of messiah, one thing I don’t want anyone to get the idea of. Messiahs and prophets have a knack for being sacrificed to causes that are never worthy of their loss. Yang will soon appear to be a threat to the other monkeys running in the field and the dogs will be sent sniffing to find something to nail him on. I’m leaving my bunker on Monday to go out into the field, reclaim my journalistic roots and learn more about this man, face to face. I will be branding the fashionable Kevlar needed to enter Chicago and attend one of his rallies. I have to look him in the eyes and see if he is a lying piece of shit like so many that have come before. If he can pass the test, prove that what comes out of his mouth is as true as I think it is, he will have my loyalty forever. Who am I kidding? I already have the t-shirt, bumper sticker, pin, and hat. I’m waiting for him to go all out on the merch so I can get the Yang Gang Bang Cockring and show the world who they are fucking with. I’m back baby and you have Yang to thank for it.