We're Doomed

(Donald Trump indicating the size of his hands)

 

I used to think presidents were smarter than me. That's kind of what you want in a president -- to not be a dunce. Pretty much every man who's run for president up 'til now has seemed intelligent (well, maybe not Dukakis), and win or lose, they could still beat me in a civics quiz (although I'm no slouch; just sayin'.).

 

My husband said that Donald Trump is the loud guy in the bar, after you've had about six or seven beers, who suddenly makes total sense. You're mesmerized by the guy, 'til you wake up the next morning with your head clanging, and you hope to God you didn't embarrass yourself the night before swooning over the "nuclear scientist" who turned out to be a skid row bum. 

 

Now we're all supposed to "get behind" our presumptive nominee. Why? And who said so? If it was Sean Hannity who said that, well, I knew Hannity was a buffoon long before Trump tossed his hair hat into the ring.

 

I'm keeping score -- fair warning -- of those conservatives who've flushed their principles down the toilet. Conservatives like free markets? Okie doke. I'm no longer, thence, buying what you've got for sale -- your books, your sponsors' wares, your click-bait websites. Enjoy the fruits of your celebrity pandering! 

 

And speaking of Fox (oh, was I?), in our home, the cord is unraveling. We've begun cutting the fat. It's a delicate process. Shoot, we gotta hold on to Bob Massi The Property Man (ha, just kidding! How cheap-ass is Fox to run that snoozefest on the weekends, just so they can pinch a few more nickels?) But seriously, we've given up on The Five (thanks, Eric Bolling!); The Factor was always hit or miss, but now that O'Reilly has announced that nothing like this has ever happened in his lifetime!, bye bye Bill. So, we're down to Bret Baier. It's rather freeing. (Oh, and Fox, we're not in the market for gold or My Pillows. I hope William Devane understands. The pillows we might have considered, but with the, you know, betrayal of your conservative viewers and all...) Fox took us for granted. We were marooned; a teeny island of sanity in a world turned haywire, and Fox docked its boat on the shoal. Now we've discovered we'd rather munch on palm fronds than devour what Fox is ladling.

My home and hearth now is National Review, The Weekly Standard, and Twitter. The first two say things in a way that is smart like a presidential candidate should be smart. Twitter is where I can bathe in the warm light of those like me who are not insane. 

As a postscript to those who insist that a no-vote for Trump is a vote for Hillary, it's time to stagger home. One thing the Obama administration hasn't decreed quite yet is who one can vote for, or whether one votes at all. The orange-haired dude in the bar probably told you otherwise, but, trust me, I can vote for whoever I damn well please. Know that extra spot on the ballot where one can write in somebody's name? Oh, that's right -- I guess you've never voted before -- but it's there. I can write in the name of a true conservative and otherwise vote down-ballot for likewise true conservatives. 

I'm not breaking my record. 

Some things are not negotiable.