How Do We Trump, Trump and Not End Up in Guantánamo Bay or Canada?
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It’s happening.
We saw the warning sign—the big flashing red one by the side of the road that shouted, "The Bridge is Out." And what did we do? We drove straight ahead and ignored it.
He told us bad things would happen. And we laughed.
He told us time and again, he wasn’t a very nice person, and we thought he was joking.
He said if you voted for him and got him elected President again, he would deport you and you turned and looked behind you for the person he was actually talking to.
We saw his sidekick make a wicked gesture reminiscent of some evil people in the last century and we made excuses.
We watched him making extra keys to the Treasury and hand them out to those who got him elected – and too many of us wondered if we could get a set.
And now that he’s turned loose Marie Kondo’s biggest disciple to reorganize everything in the government and trim the fat – we wonder if that loose-bowelled feeling will pass anytime soon.
And if any of you are over 66 3/4 years old, collecting Social Security benefits, and living with Medicare, you’re probably spending far too much time checking flight times to Canada, Guam, or God help us, Florida.
But there’s only so many immigrants anyone will accept before we realize – we’ll probably have to shelter in place.
So, what do we do?
Bernie Sanders wrote and told me – now’s not the time to wallow in self-pity.
Well, he didn’t exactly write to me directly, I don’t know him that well. But I did receive one of the 8,345,000 emails he’s been sending out doing his best Churchill imitation of – We will never give up; we will never surrender.
Gold Bless, Bernie.
But seriously (like we have a choice in being anything but) it’s not the time to disappear into Netflix, the 24-Hour Fitness place down the street, or the mountain cabin you’ve been building for the last 12 summers. Though it would be totally fine if you spent every other weekend there.
Yeah, but then what is it time for?
Let me start with this.
Have you ever been in a situation where, you’re standing outside your garage, pressing down on the remote button, and as the door creaks open and reveals 28 years’ worth of unwanted shit stuffed into a 20 x 20-foot space, you say – screw this, close the door and order a pizza?
Well, don’t do that.
And speaking of hard things to deal with – have you ever wanted to tell your boss in no uncertain terms, that promoting a 25-year-old former personal trainer to the president as the new head of operations in an aerospace firm, was a horrible idea and stood outside his door for eight minutes before turning around and going back to the breakroom for you 10th cup of coffee that morning – well, don’t do that either.
Yeah, dealing with stuff that makes you weak-kneed, angry, or in desperate need of Valium takes a moment to get your head wrapped around it.
So, what do you do?
Whatever it is you do when you’ve had enough.
When you can’t take it anymore.
When every effing dog on your block has peed on your front lawn turning it into a wasteland.
Or when your girlfriend said she would leave you if you didn’t stop watching porn.
You did something. Something brave. Something ridiculously easy – but it made you feel better.
Maybe you spoke to your neighbor, your therapist, or your local congresswoman and asked – do you need my help?
It doesn’t matter what you do, it matters that you do nothing.
Because nothing will keep 28 years of accumulated junk in your garage while your new SUV rusts outside in the winter.
Because doing nothing means watching your lovely, caring (she’s the one) girlfriend stepping into the taxi with tears in her eyes.
There are a lot of old sayings that cover a situation like this. Here’s one.
"The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing."
Well, change it to – for good men and women – and you’ll have it.
Finally, do you remember that time when your neighbor, yeah, that one, refused to repair his fence, so his Rottweiler kept getting out to terrorize the neighborhood, including your beloved Jack Russell Terrier, Petey?
Well, there you go, do that.