I’m Not Going To Pretend To Be ‘Okay’ About President Donald Trump

Flickr / IoSonoUnaFotoCamera
Flickr / IoSonoUnaFotoCamera

I know I’m probably not saying anything that hasn’t been said. And, I know that’s not the most effective way to introduce a piece of writing. Anyhow, here goes.

No election in the past has affected me so violently. I never have had an obsessive need to pry into other women’s voting preferences.

I’ve never accosted an acquaintance outside the voting place, badgering her about whether she voted for the “right candidate.”

Even when I backed Obama, I never fantasized about punching his political opponent in the face. Now, with Trump, that’s all I want to do.

My mom calls him the “yam,” and my son, very innocently, noted that Trump “looked like he taped half a tumbleweed to his head.” But let’s move on from physical insults, which MOST OF US know are sophomoric.

At one point, I wondered if Trump ran for commander-in-chief as some sort of perverted practical joke.

He flapped his arms, called people dummies and jokers, lashed out with prepubescent fervor at anyone who challenged him–not even corralling himself when he felt dissed by the grieving parents of a fallen Muslim-American soldier.

He bragged about grabbing a crotch and insinuated that those women who substantiated his sweaty gropings were too ugly to merit his attention.

With such a curriculum vitae of oily and sickening behavior, Trump HAD to be secretly sniggering, delighted by how far he could push his outrageous tease. After all, he kept ignoring boundary after boundary of decency and humanness, turned us into stooges and ultimately challenged us to see his full-frontal, entitled ridiculousness— and, in spite of this (or because of this?) he won.

Now, he has risen to the status of POTUS — which indicates either (1) His campaign was not just a narcissistic joyride designed to play with our minds; or (2) He didn’t realize that November 7 was the last day he could pull out of the race and announce he was “just kidding.”

I can’t understand how anyone cozied up to Sweet Potato Don, let alone chose him over virtually any other person on the planet.

Sixty-one million+ people can’t be idiots; that’s just not statistically plausible. I think the breakdown of Trump voters is something like this:

28% eenie-meenie-miney-moe’d their ballot;

26% were coerced by muscular relatives;

21% lost a dare;

11% hate themselves and America;

8% heard something about free credit hours at Trump University;

6% did it because they couldn’t find David Duke on the menu.

I just can’t accept other explanations. Were people okay with his hate speech? Did they overlook his words, more interested in his political agenda, like replacing Obamacare with a plausible alternative? Were the convinced by his smooth explanation that “We have to come
up, and we can come up with many different plans.

In fact, plans you don’t even know about will be devised because we’re going to come up with plans–healthcare plans–and that will be good”? Were they disengaged in the whole election process? Did they spend pre-election months glued to Bravo instead of CNN? We will never know.

And the jackassery continues. In the weeks following his victory, he’s strategically placed a known racist, who’s historically been publicly proud of that fact, as senior counselor.

He chose an actual climate change naysayer to head the EPA. And, now, 48 hours before his inauguration, he has nominated only 28 bodies to fill 690 key government positions. Who knows who he’ll spit up next? He continues to give us the big fuck you, and, meanwhile, lots and lots of people still think he’s a fine choice.

The fact that anyone voted for this horror-clown (I think the Germans coined this apt term) will never cease to shock me and make my blood boil. But, let’s take it down a notch, and look a bit at Trump’s pathological social media presence.

If his misogyny and xenophobia (a mere two of his bigotries) don’t bother his tried and true fans, then I doubt his Twitter fetish will. Our soon-to-be president has pumped out too-damn-many abridged communiques just this month alone, probably millions, a percentage of them petulant and reactionary. This man is about to assume the position of chief executive of the United States of America. Don’t you think he’d spend a little less time name-calling and a little more time brushing up on our Constitutional amendments?

Instead he seems to be focusing on composing largely monosyllabic, personal attacks and fantasizing about how women should be punished for having abortions.

I am not a well-known celebrity, and I have no following or even a loud voice. But, what would Trump do if he sniffed out my diatribe? Your guess probably mirrors mine: he probably would compose, in 144 words or less, something like

Cross is overrated. And a dummy. And fat. She is not brilliant. I am brilliant.

After the election, a once-friend told me, with an eye roll, that I had to “move on.” No, I don’t. A shockingly large portion of Americans have elected a bratty, repugnant numbskull as potentate. This is no reason to spend my days smiling. I will continue to wake up mean, combative and insane — for the next 4 (or more…) years. Maybe this makes me a nasty woman. I’m okay with that. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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