To The Word We Dream About, And The One We Live In

In other news, apparently Mitch McConnell is at death's fuckin door.

Everyone in my notes right now:

FUCKIN YURTLE THE TURTLE IS DEAD YALL

“What, to the American slave, is your 4th of July? I answer; one day that reveals to him, more than all other days in the year, the gross injustice and cruelty to which he is the constant victim. To him, your celebration is a sham; your boasted liberty, an unholy license; your national greatness, swelling vanity; your sound of rejoicing are empty and heartless; your denunciation of tyrants brass fronted impudence; your shout of liberty and equality, hallow mockery; your prayers and hyms [sic], your sermons and thanks-givings, with all your religious parade and solemnity, are to him, mere bombast, fraud, deception, impiety, and hypocrisy – a thin veil to cover up crimes which would disgrace a nation of savages. There is not a nation on the earth guilty of practices more shocking and bloody than are the people of the United States, at this very hour.”

To all the haters who say he's actually still alive, I got my news from a reputable source:

How dare you leave this in the tags.