Confessions of a Perpetually Owned Liberal


I have an embarrassing confession to make: as a perpetually butthurt Liberal, I am forever getting owned by Conservatives, Tea Party folks, the Alt-Right and Donald Trump super-fans. This is not a sometimes things. No. It is something that happens on a daily, if not hourly basis. 

I don’t want to get owned for being a Liberal. On the contrary, it is a source of deep, enduring humiliation. I really should stay off social medial, since that is inevitably the site of my constant intellectual humblings, but when that big bad Trump does something I get so irrationally angry that I must take to the internet to express my incoherent, unjustified rage towards the President. 

This, alas, is when the ownage inevitably occurs. A good rule of thumb is that if someone has a bald eagle, Donald Trump, or a Make America Great Again hat as their avatar and #MAGA in their Twitter bio then they’ll also possess analytic minds and debating skills on par with lawyers who regularly argue before the Supreme Court or Ivy League professors. It doesn’t matter if they only have eight followers or appear to be a bot: getting into the ring with them intellectually and politically is like squaring off against Mike Tyson or Muhammad Ali in their prime. 


Like Trump, these brainiacs eschew ad hominem attacks in favor of intellectually rigorous, logic and fact-based arguments. I’ll be sputtering about, my already fuzzy Liberal thinking further clouded by rage and anger (a phenomenon known to my intellectual superiors as “Trump Derangement Syndrome”) and write something about Trump doing or saying something egregiously racist or unethical and they’ll answer back with, “What about Hillary?” or “What about the emails?” or “FAKE NEWS” and I will be so devastated by the power and relevance of their arguments that I’m reduced to weeping openly at my laptop because I have no comeback. 

On a similar note, sometimes I’ll write about the decades upon decades of seemingly irrefutable evidence of Trump’s racism and sexism, from the Celebrity Apprentice host and his father being accused in 1973 by the Department of Justice of racial discrimination against African-Americans, to the infamous full-page ad Trump took out in 1989 angrily demanding that the death penalty be brought back so that five African-Americans accused of beating a white jogger could be executed, a conviction (no pun intended) so strong that not even the total exoneration of what are known as the Central Park 5 could convince Trump that these black men should not be executed by the state for a horrible crime for which they were eventually deemed innocent, to his Birther campaign to invalidate the election of the first African-American President to his famous campaign kick-off speech where he called Mexicans drug dealers and rapists. 

I waste so much time with this, let’s face it, flimsy and circumstantial “evidence” and then the intellectual titan I’m debating online will completely destroy my claims by writing things like, “Trump’s not racist.” How can I possibly counter an argument that intellectually rigorous? I can’t. Within minutes of getting owned I’m reduced to blubbering uncontrollably and confessing that yes, Osama Bin Laden is my God, and I think that all children should get gender reassignment surgery whether they want it or not, before joining Isis. 

If you really think about it, Bernie Sanders is the real Hitler. 

If you really think about it, Bernie Sanders is the real Hitler. 

Sometimes when I criticize Trump these right-wing intellectual ninjas will counter by asking if Clinton or Obama are so great and I have to grudgingly admit that the fact that President Obama and Hillary Clinton are imperfect, compromised politicians completely invalidates any criticism anyone could make against Trump. 

But it goes further than that. Sometimes I get savagely “owned” on social media not just by the superior intellects and arguments of my ideological enemies but by their Conservative swagger as well. Sometimes I’ll stumble upon a photograph of a Trump supporter in a Make America Great Again hat posing with a machine gun in front of a Confederate flag and my delicate Leftist sensibilities are so offended that I cannot function in life. I can’t make love to my wife or be emotionally present for my child or work productively because I’m so apoplectic that absolute strangers are being so brazenly “politically incorrect.”

The thing is that us Liberals don’t hate guns because they kill so many people, including children, or hate the Confederate flag because it’s an enduring icon of bigotry and racism. No, we hate these things because we’re so jealous of the freedom and awesomeness of people who have escaped the prison of political correctness. 


Sometimes I get so angry at these free, unafraid badasses proudly displaying their murder weapons on Instagram with hashtags like #Liberaltears that I actually try to get the Thought Police to arrest them before I realize that they don’t actually exist. 

Yes, it’s brutal getting owned on the internet for opposing Trump on such a constant basis, but being a beta cuck, I’ve got to admit that there’s some masochistic part of me that gets off on it. Of course I could end the non-stop ownage by conceding that my beliefs and convictions are not just wrong but a product of my hatred of America but I’m not quite ready to make that leap just yet, although I don’t know how much more ownage I can endure before I give up completely and join the other side, which is “right” in more ways than one. 


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