What's Happening?

So, here we are.  When Trump announced his candidacy for president almost a year ago, I viewed it with mild interest, like one of those touristy places -- you know, the cabin with the tilted floor and the tour guide saying, "Isn't this amazing? Isn't it awesome?" And me, standing there rolling my eyes, checking my watch. "Yea. That's great," I mutter.

I thought DT was a buffoon, an egotistical, incoherent airhead.

I remember watching The Five that day and seeing Eric Bolling convulse in hysteria, while Dana Perino came close to swatting Bolling on his carefully-coiffed noggin.

PROGRESS UPDATE:  Bolling is still suffering from the vapours.

Now here it is, eleven months later. and guess who's winning. Yep, the egotistical, incoherent buffoon. I can sort of understand it, if I squeeze my eyes closed real hard. I get that people are pissed off. Shoot, I'm pissed off. Don't forget what brought us to this moment:  a guy who, for the past eight years, has told us the USA sucks. "We're better than that", he mouths every time something happens that is outside our control, or is simply a figment of his imagination. Today we're harassing Muslims. Yesterday we shot up a convenience store. I'm sick of being reprimanded for stuff I haven't done, or would never in my darkest nightmare even consider doing. Awful things happen, but those awful things aren't my doing. And, by the way, and I'm speaking to everybody who dribbles words in front of a TV camera, white privilege may be your sin, but I'm still waiting to witness some of that privilege in my own meager life.

So, yes, things are bad. Lousy. I've lived through some foul times, but these are among the stenchiest. Maybe, though, I'm old enough to understand that one doesn't trade a Ford Pinto for an AMC Pacer. Because they're both bound to blow up on you. I would love to be idealistic, like the Bernie boosters and the Donald delusives. Except I've stumbled through the real world long enough to know that promises are barren. One can say anything. I can say I'm going to bestow wings on my tiny Bichon Frise, toss her out my second story window and watch her fly. But boasts like that are dangerous, not only to my psyche but to my poor little Josie (who, believe me, I would never toss out a window). You can say you're going to do anything. Unfortunately, that doesn't make me believe you. In fact, your saying it makes me doubt you even more, especially since you've done absolutely nothing tangible to back it up.

In 2008 Barack Obama was the shaman. He was whatever anyone wanted him to be. I thought conservatives were too smart for all that. But here they are, conjuring a god out of a leprechaun.

I can't discard forty years of principle for a fraud. I would hate myself in the morning. I also can't break the chain of forty years of voting for president, because continuity has to mean something. Therefore, my little mind is turning over the idea of writing someone in. I've heard of people doing that in the past, but I thought they were just kooks. I guess now I'm the kook.

I've decided I've earned it.