A little story for you that I thought of today when I saw election reactions.

I so need this poster.

Once upon a time, there was a stronghold of three people against the zombie hordes, and inside, they had enough machetes to allow each person to have three. But since they only needed one or two (depending on their zombie fighting skillset, natch), they kept the extra machetes back.

One day, three newcomers came to the stronghold. They’d fought long and hard against the zombies and had lost half their numbers trying to make their way to the relatively safer stronghold, and they had lost their machetes to the violent battles. But when they knocked on the door during a zombie lull, the original three strongholders freaked the fuck out. 

They’ve come to take our machetes. They’ve come to take our supplies. They will leech us dry. We’ll never survive the zombies if we let them in.

One of the strongholders pointed out the three extra machetes they had — one for each, while the strongholders would still have two each. But another strongholder reminded them of Stu, the machete queen who sat on the bench all day and shaved his ballsack with his machete and refused to fight off the zombies. These newcomers will be just like them. Look! They have no machetes, and they’re all gross and have zombie bits on them, ew!

But they weren’t complete assholes. They let the newcomers in and kept them away from the machetes and the other supplies. And the newcomers, though safer now, grew weak as the food supplies they'd brought diminished. Without machetes, they couldn't hunt for more food, and they lost their mad machete skills.

Then one day, a ginormous zombie horde attacked, and the strongholders watched the weak newcomers without any weapons try to fight and fail, and they gloated, for they knew those lazy motherfuckers would be eaten by zombies. 

When the zombies ate the strongholders, the flavor reminded them of another douchebag with entitlement issues and an unwillingness to be a team player, a brain casing with shorn balls and a dull machete, which the zombies approved of.

And so the strongholders died because they were only three against a ginormous zombie horde, and they’re fucking idiots, and that’s how survival of the fittest works, the end.

The moral of the story: Don't be a dick, or else the zombies win.