#more unhinged polls brought to you by yours truly: me

[theresa-of-liechtenstein]

you wouldn't think i'd let any of this go without one last annoying ass bullet point post for the year, right

should have known this was going to be unhinged when tita conductor and i pulled up to the arts building twinning. in extremely similar khaki-colored hats and flowy pants

chamber music room was occupied so we headed downstairs and took over one of the (mercifully empty) vocal studios.

tita conductor, opening the piano and sitting (we were facing each other so i couldn't see the keys): 'it's normally occupied by someone who...cares more about how it looks. that's why it's got pink chairs and a rug. and look at this lamp! it's just so homey.'

she first took me up the keyboard before going down, and we got to two F's above middle C (which is where i usually stop) so i got jumpscared when she moved on to the F#

i was too startled to stop so i sang that and she moved up a half-step, which is where i came to my senses and shook my head

to which she sent me a look that very clearly said Em [Lastname], Did I Tell You To Stop? and played it again, so i obeyed, thinking she'd stop there, but she went up three more half-steps before she stopped 😭

next, she started working her way down the keyboard in chords, but for some reason my brain short-circuited the third time and i couldn't find the note, so i froze

tita conductor played it for me again and i started before short-circuiting again, and she stopped and asked 'did you learn solfège in choir?'

i hesitated: i have, but it's been something like six years and i can't rattle them off really well, so i said 'a little,' to which she said 'how about numbers? can you number them off?'

at that point i was a little frustrated and said a little tetchily, 'you just went down a fourth and it's in E-flat major'

at this, tita conductor just stared at me like

tita conductor briefly recovered her wits and said 'well, that is... far and beyond what i expect for chamber singers. you are very intelligent. i'm glad you let me see inside your brain.' which absolutely sent me into the stratosphere. so because i gave her access to my brain apparently does that mean we're drift compatible now or whatever

tita conductor: well, em, you're not an alto. i think you're a mezzo-soprano me: [see above figure] tita conductor: you could reach the A. i'm a mezzo too.

i think from there the audition just turned into Tita Conductor Studies Em Like A Bug Hour 😭

tita conductor: so, when you're thinking about pitches, are you thinking about violin? me: no, it's like i have a keyboard set up in my head and i'm playing the keyboard tita conductor: huh.

she gave me some rhythms to repeat back to her but i kept forgetting the second half so i had to ask her to give them again, but then i would forget the first half but give them correctly in isolation of each other

tita conductor told me emphatically, 'you're thinking so much. your brain is working too hard. don't think it, feel it.'

then she gave me pitches to match and i kept asking for them twice to the point where she was like tita conductor: are you trying to notate it in your head? me: ...yeag 😔 tita conductor: no. don't do that. just go for it.

this time i truly did send her a skeptical look, but she gave me the series of pitches again and i just went for it and she cheered, 'yeah, that's it!' and was like 'i think, in general, we need to get you to relax and just feel it. because once you do, you get it'.

can't believe i had a martin crieff moment in front of my conductor

i wound up taking the korngold in (though the poll ran really close, surprisingly) and tita conductor said 'in 27 years, this the first time someone brought korngold to an audition. i'm curious, why'd you pick it?' and i was just like 'i found it on instagram and thought it was pretty and doable' and she said 'well, that's good!'

i sang through the first half for her (off my phone because even though i had it memorized i was too nervous) and she asked to have a look at it before asking me, 'did you study german?'

me: no, but my choir director did; we sang one german song and he helped us with the pronunciation tita conductor: what was it? me: ...i don't remember, it was six years ago. it was either schubert or schumann. [FOR SOME REASON I CONTINUED] for several years when i was a kid i thought they were the same person. tita conductor: [wheeze of laughter] me: same with bruch and brahms. tita conductor: [nodding] that was me for a few years with bruch and bloch.

at this point she told me, 'yeah you're more than qualified for chamber singers' but STILL decided to test me. i was REALLY being studied like a bug this morning 😭

she gave me two rhythm things, both in 2/4; i felt the first in eighth notes and went on a 'ta' and she said, 'did you feel those in eighth notes? try it again feeling it in quarter notes.'

so i did, and she asked, 'how did you feel when you think in quarter notes instead of eighth notes?'

man i STRUGGLED with this one. i rambled something along the lines of, 'it's like...i have to place myself in the silence between the notes...and see that space...it's like, you know, kind of like merging on the freeway'

tita conductor: interesting. i think you're trying to say syncopation.

there was a tie in the second one that i accidentally blasted through before realizing my mistake. both tita conductor and i folded over laughing

finally, she gave me a bit of sight-singing ('as a formality,' she said, 'i've been watching you read for the past year') which was probably the easiest part of the whole hour. a cute little thing in f major

tita conductor: so in terms of chamber, if you were to start tomorrow, i would put you in the altos. but i would want to put you in the sopranos, if you get more relaxed with singing. me: [refer to above figure because why the hell do i get the instruments that are stereotyped as divas when i am literally the furthest thing from a diva]

anyway it was a fun hour of just singing and yapping honestly. i gave her my drawing and card instead of taping it to her door and running away, but i didn't stay around to watch her open it. hope she likes it, and until august possibly, tita conductor 🫡

[leah-halliwell92]

Like A River Flows

Summary: Being in love is a wonderful feeling, its nearly euphoric when they who you’re in love with loves you back with just as much passion. When that love is unrequited...that’s where the wonderful feeling of love and what make that love up fall apart.

MAY I PRESENT! The winner of the poll JOHN DEACON!

You looked on as gaggles of girls along with paparazzi surrounded them as they made their way out the backstage door. You, being Fred’s baby sister remained held tightly to Brian’s side as they walked to the car. 

“Come on (y/n),” Brian said as he opened the car door.

You made quick work of getting in and moving to give the taller man room to sit, leaving you sandwiched between him and John, before breathing a relieved, “Thanks Bri.”

Brian smiled tenderly at you before heaving a sigh of relief at having made it to the car in one piece.

Freddie, Roger and Deaky did the same and the unanimous vote to go straight to the hotel was made topped off with a, “Not even the girls can keep me from passing out,” from Roger.

You gave a laugh as you rolled your eyes at the comment.

“How about that show mini-Mercury?” Roger asked eyes bright despite his exhaustion.

“It was amazing...aside from you nearly getting blown up,” you say patting his hand lovingly.

He hummed at that and let his head fall back onto the head rest of the seat.

John, who is to your right, was by far the sleepiest of the bunch (yourself included) seemed to be falling asleep where he sat. So much so that his head was swaying lightly to the movements the car made.

“Amazing show Fred,” you say smiling proudly at your brother.

He returned your smile unhinged, “Thank you darling it means the world coming from you.”

The both of you shared a look before Fred and Rog got into a random conversation to keep themselves awake.

A comfortable silence fell giving them the a moment’s peace without the crowd butting in. You were about to let your head fall on Brian’s shoulder when you felt a little bump as John’s head met the side of yours. 

You gasped getting the attention of the rest of the boys.

“Will ya look at that...’bout time love,” Roger said with a well meaning wink.

You blushed but sadness could be seen plainly on your face.

“I thought you’d told him (Y/N),” Freddie says brow furrowed in curiosity.

“I was,” you say a sad grin on your features, “It’s why I’d asked to meet him at the pub near my place.”

“What happened?” Brian asked gently.

Your gaze looked distant as you said, “He met me there but before we could talk a lovely lady came up you us...”

The boys looked on at you waiting for the rest of the story.

“Her name is Veronica...they’ve been dating for a while now,” You say quietly as you shoved at John’s head as gently as you could as to not wake him before pulling your knees to your chest in your seat, “She’s really very nice...and he is happy. As long as he’s happy I can move on and be just his best friend again.”

Brian felt hope blossom in his chest at this. He’s not happy you’re feeling the way you are and was smart enough to know he’d feel the same thing if you had ended up with John. For now however he’d be patient...

                                                 //Time Skip//

Five weeks later found them taking a beach vacation much to the relief of all involved. Fred brought Mary, Rog his newest girlfriend and John came with Veronica. Bri still being single opted for being your partner in crime for this vacation...and your support should you need it.

Fred made a point to keep an eye on you as much as he could without being obvious. And you made a point to not be the girl in the novel staring longingly at the man she loves as he proclaims his love for the one he truly loves. Should be a piece of cake right? Nope, not when she is so nice and friendly and just plain wonderful. You wish you could hate her you really do, but you can’t. Not when she’s trying to not only get to know you and the boys but making John smile that eye crinkling smile of his when he’s happy.

You were kind and welcoming to her wanting to please John. Oh no there he goes smiling happily as you and Ronnie go throw the frisbee at each other. 

‘Smile at me like that...please. Just once more,’ you think to yourself as a lump grows in your throat.

You shake your head an focus on Ronnie, what she’s saying and their game. You had to hand it to John, she’s a ripe peach! And smart too. You found yourself enjoying your game and the conversation being had. You could see yourself getting on amazingly with her and liking her to bits! But not now...not when she is the one he chose.

You didn’t want to seem like a Debbie Downer but you weren’t going to lie and say that it didn’t break you that little bit more when he came up from behind her, wrapped his arms around her pulling her close to his back.

“John!” She squealed in delight as he picked her up and twirled with her in his arms making the disk fall from her hand.

Your vision tunneled and all you could see was John and Veronica doing couple things and kissing and hugging and looking very much in love. 

“Come on love, lets go get something to drink,” Brian, who had seen you almost shrink into yourself, said with a bright smile. 

You nod quickly slapping on a wide smile before following after him. Once inside, Brian pulled you into the half bath and wrapped his arms around you in a tight embrace. It didn’t take long for you to break down.

Brian looked up when a quiet knock pierced the sound of your sobbing.

He sat you down on the closed toilet and opened the door a crack to see Freddie there ready with hugs, tissues and a water pitcher with cups. Brian would have left if it weren’t for your hand holding on to his hand. That is how you found yourself sitting on the floor between your brother and Brian. 

The boys did their best to give you support and a few minutes to duck tape yourself back together for the rest of the vacation.

“I’ll go out and tell everyone your monthly’s here and that Bri is being a gent and helping you. Bri, go to the ice box and get that bar of chocolate thats in the cheese drawer,” Freddie said as he got up before taking the pitcher and the cups saying, “(Y/N) darling run along to your room Bri will be there momentarily.”

You nod slowly and stand taking the towel from the holder to wrap around your waist to ‘cover’ and hold back the flow.

You made a  dash to your room and nearly locked the door before you sat next to it and let yourself cry once again. 

As said by Freddie, Brian came to your room chocolate in hand. He gave a short soft knock before opening the door a smidge to see you on the floor crying.

“Oh Bird,” he said sadly as he walked, closed the door and pulled you onto his lap where he held you as you cried.

You said over and over, “I shouldn’t have waited,” hating how you’d waited to tell your best friend how you felt.

“Its alright Bird let it out,” Brian said soothingly running his fingers through your hair.

You didn’t know how long the both of you stayed like that and you didn’t care. You hurt and couldn’t help but think that maybe some time away from this is what you need. But that is a thought to put on hold for the moment.

You looked up and met Brian’s kind hazel eyes. 

“I may be an emotional mess at the moment but...has anyone ever told you you have the prettiest eyes?” You say as a blush creeps up your neck and to your face.

Brian chuckled making his eyes shine and gave a shrug before saying, “Now they have.”

He so wanted to kiss you right then. Trail kisses from your neck to your lips following the blushing red trails kissing and playful nipping. But no...not yet. You’re still hurting and need time to truly move on. Despite this he couldn’t help running his middle finger over your face. Tracing your features gently before running his index knuckle over your cheek.

You leaned into his touch loving the tender feel of his hand on your cheek. 

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly.

You looked confused at him what could he be apologizing f— 

He leaned and placed a gentle kiss on your lips.

You closed your eyes at the feel. His lips are warm and tender as they began to move. Your lips dance with his in a gentle kiss before the need to breath pulled you apart. You pressed your foreheads together after the kiss letting your breathing and heartbeats calm.

After a moment, you looked at Brian and reached to run your fingers through his hair.

“As much as I want to,” you began taking a deep breath, “I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair to you and before I jump into anything with anyone, I need to move on.”

Brian nodded before looking away from you. 

“Hey,” you say pressing your hand to his cheek pulling him to look at you, “I want to try...I just don’t want you to feel like my rebound after crushing after John. Ok?”

He nodded in understanding and said, “I know you need space. But please don’t feel like you can’t come to me.”

You nod with a grateful smile and let him pull you into a hug...you are going to be ok.

P.S. I TRIED!

Tag list: @pansexualqueendarling, @queenattheopera, @brianandthemays, @theborhapboysawakenedmywhatever, @ramibaby, @captain–americanna, @awkwardangelshezza, @avengerraven1023, @danamaleksworld, @pastywhiteperson, @readinghorn, @i-was-born-like-this, @redspecialstardust, @reedusteinrambles, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @readinghorn, @subbysharkbabe, @capan-devereaux, @bowieandqueen11, @bellamy1998, @reedusteinrambles, @mazzello-lee-jones-malek, @sincereleygmg, @bleu-jean-baby, @brian-mayonnaise, @0hour9am, @toomuchtellyneck

[populistmedia]

[EXCLUSIVE] Day in the life of an activist: Walk Away Campaign Founder Brandon Straka

Brandon Straka is the founder of the #WalkAway Campaign, and he shares his thoughts with Populist Media readers. Thi is an article written by Brandon. You can find him: on Twitter On Facebook This is Brandon's First video that helped him start a large and growing movement of Facebook testimonials: https://twitter.com/usminority/status/1007191747355729920 AND THIS IS HIS STORY, IN HIS WORDS: Six weeks ago I was a normal guy. Just a normal guy in an increasingly abnormal world. The majority of my agitation usually being derived by the ever-worsening breakdown of subway reliability on my long commutes back and forth to my apartment in Harlem, and the majority of my stress hinging on swinging my monthly rent and student loan payments. My life was, by most accepted measures, typical. But like many other Americans, I also carried an additional burden through my day today. A burden which hangs darkly over the landscape of normal life, making it impossible to forget that at any moment the thunder may crack, the lightning may strike, and once again, the downpour begin to siege. You see, I live amongst people who have become unhinged. In a liberal city like New York, the tenets of liberal ideology are sacrosanct and Trump Derangement is a celebrated condition. One is often reminded while engaging in a conversation where they fall on the privilege hierarchy totem pole. Furthermore, lest we allow our privilege to make us complacently presumptuous, deftly alert watchdogs reside in plenty to assure that we not assume to know another person’s preferred gender pronouns, that the world would be an indescribable utopia if heterosexual white men received their righteous abdication, and that no matter what you may have experienced in your life or what you are currently going through- that dark-skinned lady sitting across from you on the subway has things much, much worse. The President of the United States never leaves the purview of most liberals’ minds. He is the boogie man- always lurking- perhaps in the closet, perhaps under the bed, but he’s there... always. Like an unwanted fixture in a Manhattan studio apartment, he resides in their minds, taking up space, making it impossible for them to imagine arranging the thoughts in their minds without the obstacle of...HIM in the layout. He appears in conversation constantly. The rules of engagement now so acceptably lax that even the most illogical introduction brought about by non-sequitor or abrupt emotionally charged asides is considered common play. His omnipresent influence over the thoughts, plans, considerations, and of course, the most valuable liberal commodity- feelings- of leftists is inescapable. “How was your day today?”, “I mean, it was fine... considering how bad things are these days.” Thankfully, I am also inspired to be surrounded by the selflessly brave, “All we can do is continue to resist��� I am told. This full force of this resistance usually manifests itself in the form of a facebook profile pic border garnering that very word, or a posted meme reminding us that this hero among us is very, very “woke”. I myself used to be a liberal. In the spring of 2017, just months after the election of Donald Trump, I had what is commonly referred to as a “red-pill experience”. I didn’t mean to take this pill. I didn’t actually even know it existed. I ended up swallowing the pill by accident- and tried my best to spit it out multiple times along the way. It began with a need to understand how half of the voting population could support Donald Trump. The media sources I trusted- CNN, MSNBC, The Huffington Post, and of course the greatest resource of all- my educated liberal friends had been affirming and reaffirming for months that this man was a racist. A bigot. A homophobe. And so much more. And his followers were just as bad! After all, how else could we explain away that 15 second soundbite that got so much airplay, in which we clearly saw this monster on the right mocking the disability of a reporter to the rousing cheers of his rabid brain-washed followers. It was a sickening sight to behold. I found myself unable to get through a day without feeling that pit in my stomach that reminded me how much I hated this man, and felt trapped under a dome of his domination- trapped in a world with those who covertly supported all of this- while I was unable to identify those who had betrayed our common decency. I needed to understand how this could happen in order to find a modicum of peace. I, too, had become Trump Deranged. So I began by taking to social media and pleading with Trump voters to help me understand. Most of the time, nobody would answer me. The more i asked and went unanswered, the angrier I became. I made a vow to never return to my home in the midwest again. I considered cutting off my parents. What other choice did I have? The media told me every day of the wave of violent crimes against minorities that he had brought on by “dog whistling” to his most dark and hateful base. Story after story was shared on social media by terrified LGBT people and racial minorities, with the rapidity of machine gun fire, warning us that the next day would bring an Executive Order repealing our hard-earned rights. When the orders never came to fruition, they provided a reasonable excuse, and ominously assured us it would be coming next week. How could our fellow Americans do this to us? And why don’t they care? Why won’t they answer me and be held accountable?? Finally, after many weeks, a crack appeared in the dam. I was reached out to by a school administrator who still resides in the quiet plains of the rural midwest. She told me all about Obama era regulations that resulted in the destruction of local small businesses and damaged their communities. She told me about the influx of illegal immigrants and the very real impact that these things have on the real people in small town America who are affected most. I was shocked and confused. The media had told me for years about the great and seemingly infallible man who had held office for 8 years, the man who held the rare accolade of completing a “scandal free” presidency. I had been told time and again that anybody who could criticize such a nearly perfect human being who honored us with a nearly perfect presidency could only do so because they are clearly consumed with hatred, driven mad by a black man occupying America’s most esteemed office. I researched the points this woman had made and was amazed to find that what she had said to me was true. My eyes had been opened a bit, but... this was hardly a smoking gun. And besides, maybe the liberal media did go a little soft on Obama. But that doesn’t explain or justify supporting the second coming of Hitler for Obama’s replacement. And what about that incident of mocking a reporter’s disability? No amount of dissatisfaction for our previous president could justify that national disgrace! And so back to social media I took to ask middle America what became of their conscience? How could they have overlooked this? This time it was a former babysitter, Diane, who reached out to me privately. “Have you seen this?”, she asked in her private message- including a link to a video titled “Debunking that Trump mocked the disabled reporter”. I was stunned and angry just reading the title. How brainwashed could these people be?? The media had explained to those of us on the left that we were being “gaslighted” by those on the right- now my own babysitter was trying to gaslight me, too! Arrogantly, I gave Diane an “lol” and told her I’d watch this propaganda piece when I got home. And so I did. And what I saw next was officially the moment the red pill touched my tongue. I stared, spinning and disillusioned as I watched the compilation of footage in the video- mostly of Trump on his campaign, some clips even going back ten plus years, showing Donald Trump using the exact same voice and gesture used to mock the reporter- but in every circumstance he was imitating somebody who was groveling- caught in a lie, behaving dishonestly. For the first time I watched the entirety of the segment of him telling the story about the reporter at his rally. And it became very clear to me. He did not mock that man’s disability. But the media I trusted told me that he did. What was going on? I began to dig deeper, and the more I researched the more unwanted truth was presented to me. I didn’t want to accept what I was discovering. Stories of black Americans going to Trump rallies to support him and being cut out of the shot when the liberal media arrived and framed up their camera angle to capture an image consistent with their “white people only” narrative. Numerous moments which were isolated and taken out of the context of Trump speaking on the campaign trail, spun to give the impression that his rallies were conventions of hate and the resurrection of racism and bigotry. The cover ups for Hillary Clinton. The dishonest poll skewing. The omission of inconvenient truths because they revealed the good in this man and those who support him. The dishonest manipulation and peddling of fear- primarily to those in minority communities, keeping us suspended in a constant state of fear. Donald Trump was not the master under the bed. It was the media. And the politicians on the left who were in cahoots with their agenda. I tried talking about what I had learned with those around me- friends and fellow New Yorkers. And most usually I was met with anger and contempt. “What are you doing!? So what, you love Trump now??”. And at that time, I didn’t. I truly just wanted to understand- and share what I was learning with someone else who could understand me. In the isolation of my experience, I took to the internet and sought comfort in finding others who had been through this same type of awakening that was happening to me. This is when I discovered this term... “red pilled”. There were others. Other people had spent their lives, like me, believing in the good of liberalism- even as we watched it be co-opted and absorbed by the very characteristics it claims to fight against. Others, like me, had discovered that the media is capable of not only omitting truth when delivering the news, but actually beginning with a deceitful narrative and plucking out moments and sound bites to twist and spin until they neatly support their agenda. That the left wing politicians who for so long had assured me they would support me and the gay community at large, went along with the false narratives and fear mongering that kept me and my community up at night. I attempted to expose these things on social media. My intentions were pure- I didn’t want others to have to be afraid the way i was afraid. The response I got from fellow liberals and never Trumpers was astounding. When I was lucky, I would be unfriended. In many other circumstances, friends and family used social media to proclaim me mentally ill, unstable, on drugs, self-loathing, starved for attention, insane, stupid, ignorant, and a victim of body- snatching- a once good person now replaced by a brainwashed bigot. My invitations to social events came to a standstill. The texts stopped. The calls stopped. When people ran into me in public they would often behave uncomfortably, squirming to get away, treating me as a defective who was frightening to be around. The truth about liberalism became clear to me. This is a religion, one which demands unquestioning groupthink to be an accepted member of the clergy. Any dissenting opinions on any host of issues ranging from gun rights to the legitimacy of the wage gap is grounds for removal. To belong, you must believe in a privilege hierarchy which separates people by race, religion, gender, sexual orientation and organizes them into camps of victims and oppressors. You must believe the media, no matter how preposterous the lies are that they tell. You must hate the president based off of these lies. You must engage in acts of resistance based of this hatred- including supporting jokes about his beheading, urinating on his name on a public street, threatening and intimidating his supporters. You must always retain instant access to anger- so as to become enraged at any moment when the signal to do so is sent out by the left wing media and politicians. If you are unwilling to comply, the implications of this choice are clear. The threat of loss of friends, family, career and social standing are liberalism’s greatest weapons to intimidate its members into never straying the flock. Unfortunately for the left, they messed with the wrong guy. In May of 2018 I sat down to write what I call the “definitive manifesto” on everything that is wrong with the Democratic Party and liberalism. I shot a slick video using the script and devised a campaign to accompany the video, knowing there are surely hundreds of thousands or more who have been waiting to be set free just as I had set myself free. I called the movement the #WalkAway Campaign. I encouraged others to #WalkAway from the Democratic Party and the hatred and rage which has now become synonymous with the left. I asked those who were willing to leave to tell their own stories by making video testimonials and posting them to the facebook group: the #WalkAway Campaign. I had hoped the campaign would be a success and that others would open their eyes and feel inspired by my lead. Just six weeks ago I released the video and the campaign. And back then, I was a normal guy living in an increasingly abnormal world. Now, everything is different. Within a month my video had received millions of views and been shared tens of thousands of times. Conservative media picked up on the movement. I dedicated myself to speaking to anybody who was willing to talk about the Campaign. No less than five interviews a day. Sometimes twelve. And the people began to #WalkAway in droves. Today, just six weeks after launch, the #WalkAway Campaign has nearly 120,000 members on facebook. Thousands of testimonials- video and written, by those who want civility to be the norm again. People who want their friends and family back. True patriots who fear an impending civil war and see #WalkAway as a possible last ditch effort to save America from imploding- done in by the dishonesty and derangement caused by the liberal media and current leftist lunacy. I have become a public figure. This is not something that scares me, nor is it something that I wish to run from. I’ve always been a leader. As a performer, I’ve always felt at home on a stage. I never dreamed I’d be leading an international movement as a conservative political figure. But I’ve now learned that God has a hell of a sense of humor. I’ve been called to action, and I take this call seriously. The response from the left regarding #WalkAway has been typical. They ignored us as long as they could. Then the denials. Then the lies. And then the retributions. They said the Campaign was a non-movement. A silly trending hashtag that was barely worth mentioning. As #WalkAway grew and the hashtag became one of the most used on the internet, out they came again with outlandish conspiracies about Russian bots and foreign interference. I have been accused of being a Putin puppet. I have been accused of being a (very stupid and very untalented) actor, hired by the Koch brothers, the GOP, the Trumps. After being recognized from television, I have been refused service in a store and labeled “alt-right”. I have had left wing news sources accuse me of working in tandem with subversive extremist clicks and organizations. They have attempted to erase the members of the #WalkAway Campaign, whom I call “the Patriots" by reporting that they are not real. Despite their video testimonials, these people who are bravely opening their hearts and minds for all the world to see and hear- telling their truth about the pain, disappointment and loss of hope they have experienced by those who engage in these very behaviors- they do not exist. They are “bots’. And the dishonest leftists have social media on their side. Facebook regularly removes thousands of members of the #WalkAway Campaign at a time. The platform has currently blocked my ability to message the Patriots or respond to their messages to me. Their ability to share about the group is also often blocked. Just as the left can not allow themselves to handle the thought that liberalism and the Democratic Party has scammed them, they can not allow themselves to accept that #WalkAway is a real movement and a real threat to their existence. The same irrational, unhinged, inability to deal with reality is manifesting itself once again in their refusal to listen to the real words of real people, and instead live in a state of denial about tens of thousands of people walking away from their party. Should the midterms and 2020 election prove to be a conservative windfall, the implication of this refusal to accept reality will surely show itself once again, in the belief by those remaining on the left that world is becoming even more racist, more hateful, and even more manipulated by outside propoganda. Sadly, many will never see that the truth of these assertions lies only in the mirror of the accuser. Read the full article

[populistmedia]

EXCLUSIVE: Day in the Life of an activist: Walk Away Campaign Founder Brandon Straka

Brandon Straka is the founder of the #WalkAway Campaign, and he shares his thoughts with Populist Media readers. Thi is an article written by Brandon. You can find him: on Twitter On Facebook This is Brandon's First video that helped him start a large and growing movement of Facebook testimonials: https://twitter.com/usminority/status/1007191747355729920 AND THIS IS HIS STORY, IN HIS WORDS: Six weeks ago I was a normal guy. Just a normal guy in an increasingly abnormal world. The majority of my agitation usually being derived by the ever-worsening breakdown of subway reliability on my long commutes back and forth to my apartment in Harlem, and the majority of my stress hinging on swinging my monthly rent and student loan payments. My life was, by most accepted measures, typical. But like many other Americans, I also carried an additional burden through my day today. A burden which hangs darkly over the landscape of normal life, making it impossible to forget that at any moment the thunder may crack, the lightning may strike, and once again, the downpour begin to siege. You see, I live amongst people who have become unhinged. In a liberal city like New York, the tenets of liberal ideology are sacrosanct and Trump Derangement is a celebrated condition. One is often reminded while engaging in a conversation where they fall on the privilege hierarchy totem pole. Furthermore, lest we allow our privilege to make us complacently presumptuous, deftly alert watchdogs reside in plenty to assure that we not assume to know another person’s preferred gender pronouns, that the world would be an indescribable utopia if heterosexual white men received their righteous abdication, and that no matter what you may have experienced in your life or what you are currently going through- that dark-skinned lady sitting across from you on the subway has things much, much worse. The President of the United States never leaves the purview of most liberals’ minds. He is the boogie man- always lurking- perhaps in the closet, perhaps under the bed, but he’s there... always. Like an unwanted fixture in a Manhattan studio apartment, he resides in their minds, taking up space, making it impossible for them to imagine arranging the thoughts in their minds without the obstacle of...HIM in the layout. He appears in conversation constantly. The rules of engagement now so acceptably lax that even the most illogical introduction brought about by non-sequitor or abrupt emotionally charged asides is considered common play. His omnipresent influence over the thoughts, plans, considerations, and of course, the most valuable liberal commodity- feelings- of leftists is inescapable. “How was your day today?”, “I mean, it was fine... considering how bad things are these days.” Thankfully, I am also inspired to be surrounded by the selflessly brave, “All we can do is continue to resist” I am told. This full force of this resistance usually manifests itself in the form of a facebook profile pic border garnering that very word, or a posted meme reminding us that this hero among us is very, very “woke”. I myself used to be a liberal. In the spring of 2017, just months after the election of Donald Trump, I had what is commonly referred to as a “red-pill experience”. I didn’t mean to take this pill. I didn’t actually even know it existed. I ended up swallowing the pill by accident- and tried my best to spit it out multiple times along the way. It began with a need to understand how half of the voting population could support Donald Trump. The media sources I trusted- CNN, MSNBC, The Huffington Post, and of course the greatest resource of all- my educated liberal friends had been affirming and reaffirming for months that this man was a racist. A bigot. A homophobe. And so much more. And his followers were just as bad! After all, how else could we explain away that 15 second soundbite that got so much airplay, in which we clearly saw this monster on the right mocking the disability of a reporter to the rousing cheers of his rabid brain-washed followers. It was a sickening sight to behold. I found myself unable to get through a day without feeling that pit in my stomach that reminded me how much I hated this man, and felt trapped under a dome of his domination- trapped in a world with those who covertly supported all of this- while I was unable to identify those who had betrayed our common decency. I needed to understand how this could happen in order to find a modicum of peace. I, too, had become Trump Deranged. So I began by taking to social media and pleading with Trump voters to help me understand. Most of the time, nobody would answer me. The more i asked and went unanswered, the angrier I became. I made a vow to never return to my home in the midwest again. I considered cutting off my parents. What other choice did I have? The media told me every day of the wave of violent crimes against minorities that he had brought on by “dog whistling” to his most dark and hateful base. Story after story was shared on social media by terrified LGBT people and racial minorities, with the rapidity of machine gun fire, warning us that the next day would bring an Executive Order repealing our hard-earned rights. When the orders never came to fruition, they provided a reasonable excuse, and ominously assured us it would be coming next week. How could our fellow Americans do this to us? And why don’t they care? Why won’t they answer me and be held accountable?? Finally, after many weeks, a crack appeared in the dam. I was reached out to by a school administrator who still resides in the quiet plains of the rural midwest. She told me all about Obama era regulations that resulted in the destruction of local small businesses and damaged their communities. She told me about the influx of illegal immigrants and the very real impact that these things have on the real people in small town America who are affected most. I was shocked and confused. The media had told me for years about the great and seemingly infallible man who had held office for 8 years, the man who held the rare accolade of completing a “scandal free” presidency. I had been told time and again that anybody who could criticize such a nearly perfect human being who honored us with a nearly perfect presidency could only do so because they are clearly consumed with hatred, driven mad by a black man occupying America’s most esteemed office. I researched the points this woman had made and was amazed to find that what she had said to me was true. My eyes had been opened a bit, but... this was hardly a smoking gun. And besides, maybe the liberal media did go a little soft on Obama. But that doesn’t explain or justify supporting the second coming of Hitler for Obama’s replacement. And what about that incident of mocking a reporter’s disability? No amount of dissatisfaction for our previous president could justify that national disgrace! And so back to social media I took to ask middle America what became of their conscience? How could they have overlooked this? This time it was a former babysitter, Diane, who reached out to me privately. “Have you seen this?”, she asked in her private message- including a link to a video titled “Debunking that Trump mocked the disabled reporter”. I was stunned and angry just reading the title. How brainwashed could these people be?? The media had explained to those of us on the left that we were being “gaslighted” by those on the right- now my own babysitter was trying to gaslight me, too! Arrogantly, I gave Diane an “lol” and told her I’d watch this propaganda piece when I got home. And so I did. And what I saw next was officially the moment the red pill touched my tongue. I stared, spinning and disillusioned as I watched the compilation of footage in the video- mostly of Trump on his campaign, some clips even going back ten plus years, showing Donald Trump using the exact same voice and gesture used to mock the reporter- but in every circumstance he was imitating somebody who was groveling- caught in a lie, behaving dishonestly. For the first time I watched the entirety of the segment of him telling the story about the reporter at his rally. And it became very clear to me. He did not mock that man’s disability. But the media I trusted told me that he did. What was going on? I began to dig deeper, and the more I researched the more unwanted truth was presented to me. I didn’t want to accept what I was discovering. Stories of black Americans going to Trump rallies to support him and being cut out of the shot when the liberal media arrived and framed up their camera angle to capture an image consistent with their “white people only” narrative. Numerous moments which were isolated and taken out of the context of Trump speaking on the campaign trail, spun to give the impression that his rallies were conventions of hate and the resurrection of racism and bigotry. The cover ups for Hillary Clinton. The dishonest poll skewing. The omission of inconvenient truths because they revealed the good in this man and those who support him. The dishonest manipulation and peddling of fear- primarily to those in minority communities, keeping us suspended in a constant state of fear. Donald Trump was not the master under the bed. It was the media. And the politicians on the left who were in cahoots with their agenda. I tried talking about what I had learned with those around me- friends and fellow New Yorkers. And most usually I was met with anger and contempt. “What are you doing!? So what, you love Trump now??”. And at that time, I didn’t. I truly just wanted to understand- and share what I was learning with someone else who could understand me. In the isolation of my experience, I took to the internet and sought comfort in finding others who had been through this same type of awakening that was happening to me. This is when I discovered this term... “red pilled”. There were others. Other people had spent their lives, like me, believing in the good of liberalism- even as we watched it be co-opted and absorbed by the very characteristics it claims to fight against. Others, like me, had discovered that the media is capable of not only omitting truth when delivering the news, but actually beginning with a deceitful narrative and plucking out moments and sound bites to twist and spin until they neatly support their agenda. That the left wing politicians who for so long had assured me they would support me and the gay community at large, went along with the false narratives and fear mongering that kept me and my community up at night. I attempted to expose these things on social media. My intentions were pure- I didn’t want others to have to be afraid the way i was afraid. The response I got from fellow liberals and never Trumpers was astounding. When I was lucky, I would be unfriended. In many other circumstances, friends and family used social media to proclaim me mentally ill, unstable, on drugs, self-loathing, starved for attention, insane, stupid, ignorant, and a victim of body- snatching- a once good person now replaced by a brainwashed bigot. My invitations to social events came to a standstill. The texts stopped. The calls stopped. When people ran into me in public they would often behave uncomfortably, squirming to get away, treating me as a defective who was frightening to be around. The truth about liberalism became clear to me. This is a religion, one which demands unquestioning groupthink to be an accepted member of the clergy. Any dissenting opinions on any host of issues ranging from gun rights to the legitimacy of the wage gap is grounds for removal. To belong, you must believe in a privilege hierarchy which separates people by race, religion, gender, sexual orientation and organizes them into camps of victims and oppressors. You must believe the media, no matter how preposterous the lies are that they tell. You must hate the president based off of these lies. You must engage in acts of resistance based of this hatred- including supporting jokes about his beheading, urinating on his name on a public street, threatening and intimidating his supporters. You must always retain instant access to anger- so as to become enraged at any moment when the signal to do so is sent out by the left wing media and politicians. If you are unwilling to comply, the implications of this choice are clear. The threat of loss of friends, family, career and social standing are liberalism’s greatest weapons to intimidate its members into never straying the flock. Unfortunately for the left, they messed with the wrong guy. In May of 2018 I sat down to write what I call the “definitive manifesto” on everything that is wrong with the Democratic Party and liberalism. I shot a slick video using the script and devised a campaign to accompany the video, knowing there are surely hundreds of thousands or more who have been waiting to be set free just as I had set myself free. I called the movement the #WalkAway Campaign. I encouraged others to #WalkAway from the Democratic Party and the hatred and rage which has now become synonymous with the left. I asked those who were willing to leave to tell their own stories by making video testimonials and posting them to the facebook group: the #WalkAway Campaign. I had hoped the campaign would be a success and that others would open their eyes and feel inspired by my lead. Just six weeks ago I released the video and the campaign. And back then, I was a normal guy living in an increasingly abnormal world. Now, everything is different. Within a month my video had received millions of views and been shared tens of thousands of times. Conservative media picked up on the movement. I dedicated myself to speaking to anybody who was willing to talk about the Campaign. No less than five interviews a day. Sometimes twelve. And the people began to #WalkAway in droves. Today, just six weeks after launch, the #WalkAway Campaign has nearly 120,000 members on facebook. Thousands of testimonials- video and written, by those who want civility to be the norm again. People who want their friends and family back. True patriots who fear an impending civil war and see #WalkAway as a possible last ditch effort to save America from imploding- done in by the dishonesty and derangement caused by the liberal media and current leftist lunacy. I have become a public figure. This is not something that scares me, nor is it something that I wish to run from. I’ve always been a leader. As a performer, I’ve always felt at home on a stage. I never dreamed I’d be leading an international movement as a conservative political figure. But I’ve now learned that God has a hell of a sense of humor. I’ve been called to action, and I take this call seriously. The response from the left regarding #WalkAway has been typical. They ignored us as long as they could. Then the denials. Then the lies. And then the retributions. They said the Campaign was a non-movement. A silly trending hashtag that was barely worth mentioning. As #WalkAway grew and the hashtag became one of the most used on the internet, out they came again with outlandish conspiracies about Russian bots and foreign interference. I have been accused of being a Putin puppet. I have been accused of being a (very stupid and very untalented) actor, hired by the Koch brothers, the GOP, the Trumps. After being recognized from television, I have been refused service in a store and labeled “alt-right”. I have had left wing news sources accuse me of working in tandem with subversive extremist clicks and organizations. They have attempted to erase the members of the #WalkAway Campaign, whom I call “the Patriots" by reporting that they are not real. Despite their video testimonials, these people who are bravely opening their hearts and minds for all the world to see and hear- telling their truth about the pain, disappointment and loss of hope they have experienced by those who engage in these very behaviors- they do not exist. They are “bots’. And the dishonest leftists have social media on their side. Facebook regularly removes thousands of members of the #WalkAway Campaign at a time. The platform has currently blocked my ability to message the Patriots or respond to their messages to me. Their ability to share about the group is also often blocked. Just as the left can not allow themselves to handle the thought that liberalism and the Democratic Party has scammed them, they can not allow themselves to accept that #WalkAway is a real movement and a real threat to their existence. The same irrational, unhinged, inability to deal with reality is manifesting itself once again in their refusal to listen to the real words of real people, and instead live in a state of denial about tens of thousands of people walking away from their party. Should the midterms and 2020 election prove to be a conservative windfall, the implication of this refusal to accept reality will surely show itself once again, in the belief by those remaining on the left that world is becoming even more racist, more hateful, and even more manipulated by outside propoganda. Sadly, many will never see that the truth of these assertions lies only in the mirror of the accuser. Read the full article