You’re Fired

I have been in denial for about a year now that someone who looks like an oompa loompa found Alice in Wonderland’s magical “eat me” cookie and went to town on it could actually be president. Honestly, I thought it was a joke. Like lol the reality tv star? Doesn’t he know how democracy works?

Well, jokes on me. Because fast forward to today where Trump actually jumps in polls and I’m just the personification of the shocked-face emoji. Because how? HOW, AMERICA?

This man has offended, belittled, mocked, and derided literally every group of people in this country. Except, of course, straight white males. Yay for them. He is a bully–Biff Tannen incarnate–and my blood boils whenever he opens his tiny, little mouth and pinches his tiny, little fingers together.

I think of the world we live in and it honestly scares me. Of course there are nasty people. Deplorables, if I can use one of Hillary’s missteps. They are the Alt-Right, the white supremacists, the sexists and the racists who usually stay in their backwoods far away from me. But out they’ve come this race like roaches left unfettered. Those people have always existed, but they’ve existed out of my sphere.

I thought they were dying out from inbreeding, honestly.

But that’s not the scariest thing about Trump’s run. It’s not the uneducated, the hateful, the anti-PC crowds that have me nervous. No, what’s really terrifying is the supposedly smart people willing to justify his behavior in the name of party loyalty.

It’s been soul-crushing hearing people give Trump a break. From party leaders to family and friends all the way to the lovely internet trolls: they just shrug their shoulders, call it a necessary evil. They spin it that they’re voting for the party not the president, that anyone is better than Crooked Hillary (patent pending), that it’s time for real change in this country and, hey, at least Trump isn’t a dirty politician.

No, he’s just a dirty man.

I’ve had to watch this orange tater tot casually dismiss sexual assault, excuse his prolific disloyalty to his many wives, shrug off past opinions and twitter diatribes like a snakeskin. Foot after foot has been stuck in his mouth, lie after lie has been revealed, scandal after scandal has blown up in his face. And still this pudgy old man from the Guess Who?™ board game moves gruffly forward. He’s like that omnidroid in The Incredibles that gets stronger the more you try to kill it. The more I see of him the more I’m sure he doesn’t read, he doesn’t know how the constitution works, he doesn’t respect what makes this country great in the first place, and he’s nowhere close to qualified to wear the mantel of the presidency.

But, like any great villain, he just (clap emoji) won’t (clap emoji) die.

He’s a frat boy jockeying for president under the promise of more booze, more pussy.

He’s Veruca Salt and Dudley Dursley all rolled into one oily cake bite.

He’s a kid throwing a tantrum in the grocery store, screaming so loudly and incessantly that finally his parent just gives him the candy bar.

He’s that pervert in the bar who doesn’t understand the word “no” and follows you home until he gets you behind a dumpster and says you were asking for it.

This congealed bucket of spam has talked crazy enough, long enough that people have forgotten most of the crazy he’s already spewed. There’s a pile of steaming shit at his feet but it’s too much to clean up and so people just sweep it under the rug, deciding to deal with it later, convincing themselves that a squatter in the White House is  better somehow than an actual politician. But I don’t want to hear how it’s the lesser of two evils; I don’t want to hear anyone say, “Hey, it’s not like we’re voting for the pope.” Because I just can’t believe that there’s a majority of people in this country willing to vote in the white, all-American f*ckboy voted most likely to grab a woman by their pussy and say she liked it.

He’s had three wives. He has twelve women currently accusing him of sexual assault. He is under investigation in a rape case of a thirteen-year-old girl. Underage girls accused him of walking into their dressing room. Multiple women have been accosted for their looks on national television by him. He’s featured in a soft-core porn film. He objectifies his own daughter. He calls rape jokes “locker room talk.” He demeans women, makes jokes about periods, calls a political peer a “nasty woman” in the middle of a debate.

And that’s just what he’s done to women.

He doesn’t apologize. He doesn’t retract. He pivots and he spins and he moves on to let the next scandal drown out the last. And still he’s the Republican nominee, holding up traditional family values. And I can’t believe it.

Make America Great Again, right? And you think the best way to do that is to elect the Tic Tac Ambassador for Sexual Assault?

This man looks exactly like the corpse of baby Voldemort in Harry Potter’s Kings Cross dream sequence. And–hot take–he’s just as evil. So let’s not pretend he’s the safer bet. He’s a monster. He should be held accountable for his personality, his entire perspective, his power-mongering. And anyone still struggling to justify his behavior, to excuse their vote for this sexist, racist, homophobic, elitist, cheating, lying pig…I’m really just over it.

So go home, America. You’re drunk.

 

***Please note this is a personal opinion and if you disagree I’m really just too tired to get into it with you, so feel free to go comment on one of Hillary’s campaign videos instead. This is one of my favorites.***

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