Please welcome today’s guest writer, Angela L. Lindseth. Angela grew up in South Dakota on the family homestead. She has a geological engineering degree and a journeyman electrician license; however, thanks to her beautiful sister, Angela is writing full time.
She has finished Tower of Earth, a young adult fantasy, which is the first book in the Towers of Rejaque series. She writes a wide variety of flash fiction, including speculative, horror, and retrospective and belongs to several critique groups that help her hone her skills. For a taste of her work visit Upender, Postcard Poems and Prose, 101 Fiction, and her Facebook author page.
Angela has two handsome boys, a cat, and a beagle named River, who is the love of her life.
March 18, 2016
This year’s political race has me more frustrated than when I can’t have an orgasm. I mean really, I want it to come out successfully, but I just don’t see it happening. Obama was my foreplay to politics. I wasn’t interested any party divisions, Supreme Court appointments, but now I can’t wait to get the feed on my page. Just a little more political crack, please. And the ‘D’ has been there for me, the dealer on the corner with a quarter gram to tease me. Come on big boy, just a little more. I love to hate you. I can’t get enough. You’re my drug, my heroin, so easy to get these days. Forget the street drugs, forget the needles, just give me a fist-fight, some racial slurs and I’m good to go. Come on, feed my hatred─ Oh wait. I’m not like that. I’m an average American, looking out for the good of the country. I’m not racist. I just don’t want immigrants ruining my country. Were my grandparents immigrants? Well, yes, refugees of some sort seeking a better life, but things were different then. Back then, when America was great, I couldn’t vote because I was a woman. Young black men were strung up, their lungs aching for air. Protestors were killed at Kent State. Good times. Make America Great Again. Sigh. I’m not sure when America was great. We have the capacity for greatness, and if you’re a white male it’s been grand, but the division between the one percent of the one percent and me, well… I’m still waiting for that orgasm.
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