Rejection Refuse
Remember Minesweeper?
You step on one of those mines, you blow up. You blow up and your intended message gets lost, never reaching the other side of the divide, never closing the gap, even by a millimeter. It never had a chance.
A semi-poetic, unfocused, whiskey-soaked rant about the sweet spot between isms and that our choices in ideologues is a pack of false shaman preaching horseshit.