My Name Was Matthew Blake Atkinson

You know how Jesus was always saying stuff like, “screw immigrants. Like a lot. But, especially screw over their children. If you can traumatize them for life by separating them from their parents, do it. thanks be to God.” And then of course you have his stance on sexual assault. In the book of matthew, he is very clear. “grab em by the pussy.” And he loved to call minorities “sons of bitches” and told them plenty of times to “go back to where you’re from” (even if they’re actually from here and not a “shit hole” country). Now who’s the son of a bitch? I just read that back and realized, like a lot of my fellow conservatives have done, that I accidentally wrote “Jesus” instead of “Donald J Trump.” It happens. but what if Christians actually read the bible and took it to heart instead of listening to Donald’s 13,000 lies and taking his “truth” as gospel? We wouldn’t be here. You can’t really let a mere man call himself “the chosen one” and just let that sl

It’s one of those surreal days that I don’t want to end. Frank Fucking Turner read my blog. And liked it enough to link it on his Twitter for his 164k followers. I emailed him, calling him a dick for making me cry (again) and thanking him for being who he is as an artist and for linking my blog post. he had a show tonight in LA, but still took time to respond with “A pleasure man, was a great write-up. ft” Okay there. So, in reading that back I got something. Growing up, there was this parenting that I needed that I didn’t get. And my miracle of a therapist healed so many of those wounds. I don’t think she was supposed to do things like tell me shit from the fucked up parts of her life or say that she loved me to pieces. But, she did and it hit me right in the daddy issue. And then, the open wounds I grew up with. I couldn’t show those back then, right? Because church. And looking good. And fuck that god damn fucking phony theology. So backwards. I was a kid in pain. And had

Trump 2020: Because I’d vote for Satan if he ran as a republican. Because I’d vote for cancer if it ran as a republican. Because I despise disabled reporters and stand by men who mock them. Because I’m not suspicious of a man who sues to keep his taxes secret. Because he comes off super sane on Twitter. Because he’s the only one fighting for a border wall in Colorado. Because just when you think he might be illiterate, he'll say something completely brilliant like, "I have the best words." Because fool me once, shame on W, fool me 13,000 times (the number of lies he’s told in his first 1000 days) and I will defend him to the death on social media. Because calling black NFL players “sons of bitches” isn’t racist. Because his phrase “shit-hole countries” isn’t racist. Because calling immigrants “animals” isn’t racist. Because our only chance to be protected from Windmill cancer. Because it’s totes adorbs that facebook amended its polic

“if you’re all about the destination, take a fucking flight. We’re going nowhere slowly, but we’re seeing all the sights.” Last night in Lawrence, Kansas, Frank Turner played his 2405 th show. Since leaving his punk band in 2005 for a solo career, Turner has played roughly a show every other night. For thirteen friggin years. That is a grueling schedule. I assume. My 5 th grade band, the foggy goggles, never got a chance to take our hit, "your mama is a beached whale", on tour. Well, technically, none of us knew how to play instruments either, but I can’t even imagine 2400 shows. And the thing is with frank, he’s stayed true to his punk roots. In his song “Father’s Day”, he tells the story of him at 16, giving himself a mohawk, because he wanted to “walk the walk and not just talk the talk”. But, he used “kitchen scissors” on the sides and it was a “bit of a disaster.” That’s Frank. Real. Raw. Genuine. Self-effacing. Quick with a joke. A born entertainer.

“Donald Trump personifies everything the rest of the world despises about America: Casual racism, crass materialism, relentless self-aggrandizement, vulgarity on an epic scale. The fact that so many Republicans are comfortable with the thought of this monumentally unqualified man in the Oval Office shows how warped the Party has become.” This quote from a New Zealand journalist got me tonight. And not just the quote itself, but the reality that it’s from four years ago. Trump was seen by the world as human garbage before he took office and it’s only gotten worse. (I guarantee that people who read that and are offended by the human garbage line, would have thought of him in that exact way until he put an (R) behind his name.) He is everything we shouldn’t want in a President. A divider. A fear monger. A liar. A cheater. A bully. A madman. A terrible orator. And holy fuck that letter he wrote to the Turkish president. That’s borderline illiteracy. That’s “you’re not going t

Random thought. Let’s see if it leads to a blog post. It’s rare to have perspective in the moment. I’m not talking about the general concept of self-awareness, but the more specific idea of what my night was like. Tonight, I had a front row seat to one of the greatest shows I’ve been to. And as I was enjoying the performance, I dropped everything to make sure I got to take in the full experience. but, only now, 6ish hours later did it sink in just how cool my life is. How lucky I am. How, some day, I’m going to long for days like today as the good old days. I didn’t even have to pay money for tonight’s show. I was one of 11 people tuning in to hear my daughter be the announcer for her school newspaper’s live broadcast of their varsity boys' soccer game. It was magic. Dead air for the first few minutes. Later, riley would tell me that in that space her producer muted her and her partner’s microphones to tell them that they had to talk. What? Slowly they got going. R

There was this super smart kid I went to college with. He said that if you stay home there is a 100% chance you’re not going to see a pretty girl walk by. The pretty girl likelihood went up infinitely by simply putting yourself out there. Now, that girl wasn’t going to talk to you. Or give you the time of day. But, she only existed in a world that was outside your shitty college apartment. I met that girl tonight. she drunk leaned on me outside of ruthie’s keyhole tavern at uber thirty when the guy who she met at the wedding was being too demanding. Win! Chalk one up for the good guys. She told him that she and I were dating. He asked her what my name was. My uber came. Scoreboard. Drunk girl/pretty girl walking past/leaning on me 1. If I had stayed home. Nothing. And to think I almost stayed home. Good god, what is wrong with me? 3 years ago this week my then girlfriend had a birthday. That’s fun. Except I had broken up with her. I birthday dated her anyway and for that infrac