I must be getting old. Everything pisses me off these days. Donald Trump. People who like Donald Trump. People who hate him irrationally. People who talk about him like they know him. People who talk like they want to know him. People who don’t talk about him like they know him. Christopher Wool, that talentless fucking hack. The words fake news. Real news. Death. Life. The piece of chocolate I dropped on the floor that I can’t find. Wednesdays. Donald Trump’s cabinet. Donald Trump’s toilet.
No worries though. These feelings are a temporary thing. Life is good. I have a job. I have a wife that loves me. Two cats that are the awesomest cats of awesomeness ever. Enough money to pay the rent. The bills are paid.
I feel almost affluent right now, even through my anger I feel that.
I’m still going to resist Trump, and feeling like things are so alright I can walk away and not be a responsible adult and fight this man who is, and has been for as long as I have known of him, the very symbol of what is wrong with the world, what is wrong with America. A rich man who flaunts his wealth while being a bad businessman. A ruthless bastard who does everything he can to screw the little guy while pretending to be something he isn’t; one of us.
He’ll never be a man of the people. He’ll never fight for what I need in the world, what the little guy needs. He’ll cut taxes without cutting government, dropping the bill on future generations. We’ll pay less, and that’ll feel nice, but it won’t last, and we’ll have to pay more later.
All his manic self-publicity won’t make the reality of his eminent failure any less real, won’t make our future any less bleak. Republicans can feel great about things now, but reality will bite them in the ass later.
What could I say to you that would be of value, except that perhaps you seek too much, that as a result of your seeking you cannot find. … When someone is seeking, it happens quite easily that he only sees the thing that he is seeking; that he is unable to find anything, unable to absorb anything, because he is only thinking of the thing he is seeking, because he has a goal, because he is obsessed with his goal. ~ Herman Hesse, Siddhartha, 1922
That’s it from here. Real news or something that approximates it tomorrow.
Go to sleep, America.