No More Debates

I’m sure we are all very, very sick of hearing and reading about Donald Trump; like the proverbial train wreck, it’s been hard to look away. But after all the boorish chest-thumping and invisible cocaine-snorting and sweating and bullying on television the other night, all I could say was I am not watching any more debates. Why should I waste my time listening to a bloviating sociopath waxing dimly about his greatness? Trump denied, the next day, that he ever said not paying taxes made him smart, even though 80 million people heard him declare so on national television and around the world. Honestly, why spend one more minute listening to this crazy shithead? Because he has a shot at becoming president of the United States? If that happens, I will certainly pay very close attention to what he has to say. Until then, I leave it to others to slurp up his gorgeousness.

As for those who call themselves Trump supporters, I want to remind them of the old Mexican proverb: Tell me who your friends are and I’ll tell you who you are. If you vote for an ugly, racist liar, who appeals to people’s basest instincts, that says something about who you are, I don’t care how you try to explain away the truth. And here’s the thing, everyone in my immediate family is voting for Trump. It’s unbearable and inexplicable, but it’s true (it has to do with deep hatred for the Clintons). So, what does this mean? These are good people, generous people, kind and loving people, not to mention supportive of me in every possible way. I can vouch for them! Well, what this has taught me (again) is that no human being is one thing or the other. Our feelings about people and circumstances are messy and baffling, often to ourselves. Still, that Mexican proverb holds true most of the time. So if you can put your weight behind the election of Donald Trump to the highest office in this land physically (by going to the voting booth), vocally, and—of greatest import— energetically, you may not be a racist or a liar or a dumb, ugly, rich bastard, but part of you likes that stuff, okay? So you may need to ask yourself certain questions. That’s all I’m sayin’. And by the way, you can abstain.

I’ve never been in love with Hillary Clinton. She has never inspired me, and I know she lies and shifts on positions, depending on which way the political winds blow. She’s also a hawk. I admit to being okay with voting for such a person because I’ve always voted for deeply flawed politicians. They’re the only kind I’m familiar with. There have been some exceptions. Barack Obama inspired people with an appeal to their better angels; Bernie Sanders came the closest to being a truth-teller with uncompromising principles. Ronald Reagan, who for sure didn’t inspire me to vote for him, was able to touch the heartstrings of a wide array of people with his sunny message. And although Hillary doesn’t imbue me with hope, I admire her grit, her smarts, her energy, her knowledge and comprehension of policy and world affairs, and her determination. And I think it’s high time a woman ran this country. I can vote for Hillary and look at myself in the mirror the next day. Trump inspires delusions like he’ll surround himself with advisers! And hate. I’m done rubbernecking at the train wreck. I need a chiropractor by now! So, in case my weakness for the macabre gets the better of me, will someone please remind me that I publicly said I wouldn’t watch any other debates? I would appreciate that. Thank you.

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