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JD Vance in his earlier years.
Jorkin Depeanus Vance is a hillbilly hick and American senator who is literally living in OHIO lololol zomg!!!💀💀💀
Recently he has been a figure of interest in the American political sphere due to being nominated as the future vice president by God-King Emperor Donaldus I. Vance was originally a sternly never-Trump politician, even referring to Trump's America as Hitler's America once. Donald Trump took this as compliment and chose Vance to be his running mate, which of course Vance complied and immediately began ferociously sucking The Don's massive circumcised dong ever since.
So far in his vice presidential campaign, he has become most well known for calling Kamala Harris' supporters "childlesscat ladies" who have "no stake in the future". Suddenly, a bunch of middle-aged women from Facebook and such who haven't had any dick since their teacher touched them in elementary school start to take up being a lonely media-shill with no purpose in life as a point of pride. He's also garnered controversy for perpetuating the idea that Haitians eat cats, which the cat ladies dismiss as racist because they're desperate for some black meat to eat their pussy cat.
Hillbilly Elegy
His memeoir that he wrote in 2016, Hillbilly Elegy, details much of his early life. Growing up, JD Vance was a lonely, lonely man. Throughout pages 179-181, Vance goes into grotesque detail of the secret, sexual para-relations he had out of desperation and frustration with an inside-out latex glove and his grandmother's living room couch cushions.
Other than that, his book also details his fatherlessness, his experiences with laying in bed smoking pot all day, the disgusting oral hygiene of the hillbilly race, latent homosexuality, his neurotic, whore mother, and his bad-shit insane, gun-toting, hermaphrodite grandmother.
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At the time, the only thing I knew about gay men was that they preferred men to women. This described me perfectly: I disliked girls, and my best friend in the world was my buddy Bill. Oh no, I’m going to hell.
„
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I broached this issue with Mamaw, confessing that I was gay and I was worried that I would burn in hell. She said, “Don’t be a fucking idiot, how would you know that you’re gay?” I explained my thought process. Mamaw chuckled and seemed to consider how she might explain to a boy my age. Finally she asked, “J.D., do you want to suck dicks?” I was flabbergasted. Why would someone want to do that? She repeated herself, and I said, “Of course not!” “Then,” she said, “you’re not gay. And even if you did want to suck dicks, that would be okay. God would still love you.”
„
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I remember stroking the whiskers on her chin and wondering whether God gave all old women facial hair.
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Along with my abysmal school record came drug experimentation — nothing hard, just what alcohol I could get my hands on and a stash of weed that Ken’s son and I found
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“
Half of his teeth had rotted out, and the other half were black, brown, and misshapen, the consequence of a lifetime of Mountain Dew consumption and presumably some missed dental checkups. He was a high school dropout who drove a truck for a living.
„
—JD describing one of his many step-daddies
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They’d buy two dozen-packs of soda with food stamps and then sell them at a discount for cash. They’d ring up their orders separately, buying food with food stamps, and beer, wine, and cigarettes with cash. They’d regularly go through the checkout line speaking on their cell phones.
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—description of the average hard-working, blue collar, Midwestern person
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I began to put on weight, and I was positively chubby by the time I started the fifth grade.
We got on the highway, and I said something that ignited her temper. So she sped up to what seemed like a hundred miles per hour and told me that she was going to crash the car and kill us both. I jumped into the backseat, thinking that if I could use two seat belts at once, I’d be more likely to survive the impact. This infuriated her more, so she pulled over to beat the shit out of me.
„
—truly a loving mother
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I leaped out of the car and ran for my life... I happened upon a small house with an aboveground pool... “You have to call my mamaw!” I screamed. “Please help me. My mom is trying to kill me.” The woman clambered out of the pool as I looked around fearfully, terrified of any sign of my mother. We went inside, and I called Mamaw and repeated the woman’s address. “Please hurry up,” I told her. “Mom is going to find me.”
„
—truly a loving mother, part II
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Mom did find me. She must have seen where I ran from the highway. She banged on the door and demanded that I come out. I begged the owner not to open the door, so she locked the doors and promised Mom that her two dogs—each no bigger than a medium-sized house cat—would attack her if she tried to enter. Eventually Mom broke down the woman’s door and dragged me out as I screamed and clutched for anything—the screen door, the guardrails on the steps, the grass on the ground. The woman stood there and watched, and I hated her for doing nothing.
