Pulling the Wool
Pulling the Wool
Sure, you’ve had two weeks to recover from the shock of this year’s presidential election debacle, two weeks to shake the hangover, two weeks to get back up and move forward … but … you still can’t get your head around it, you still want to wake up from that nightmare, you still crawl out each morning and realize, oh yeah, it’s a new day in America. The rich, surprise surprise, are going to get richer and you, yup, you know what crumbs you’ll be getting. It’s a new day, all right and it will last at least four years. Or maybe — I know you can’t say it out loud and I know you don’t want me to either — maybe this will be the rest of your life.
My brother swore an oath to go 60 days with a moratorium on talking about, commenting about or thinking about Donald J. Trump. I tried to Move On myself, took a vacation, pulled the sheet up a little higher. Most of you have too. And if I hear another yahoo tell me about the five stages of grief, believe me, they will get to pass through them in a furiously short time. I mean, shut your front door! And don’t talk to me about ditching the Electoral College!! You got more odds of emigrating to Mars than passing a constitutional amendment. We couldn’t even get the womens’ rights amendment through, fat chance of the misogynists who won with the College voting to make the next election easier for you next time. And this talk of the Electors switching their votes to Hillary for the good of the country….geez, c’mon, consult with a Realist.
Today the Green Party ponied up the money to recount Wisconsin. Check the voting machines, see if there’s a paper trail, watch for Russian hackers, look for malfeasance. God help us if there was a discrepancy in the vote counting in Wisconsin, Pennsylvania, Michigan. Trump always claimed it was rigged. Course, now he’s singing a happier tune, nothing new here since the election and his continual flip flopping. This from the man who sez it like it is.
Ever since the economic meltdown and the Great Recession, I’ve wondered why people weren’t in the streets with pitchforks. Wall Street particularly. Why the populace wasn’t up in arms crying for some justice. Why some CEO’s weren’t dragged from the High Suites and made examples of. It is the utmost irony that the beneficiary of that pent up rage was a billionaire non-politician with a potty mouth and a mean streak. The boy won, I’ll give him that, but the mob expects some swift action to alleviate their grievances. I suspect a few months into his term, they’ll realize politicians fudge the truth, they might even lie, but politicians at least know the difference. They voted this guy in with the slimmest of hopes he would shake things up based on his campaign promises. Fat chance he’ll get away with that phony baloney. Unless, of course, most of the rest of the country has pulled the sheets up higher too.
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Why weren’t we in the streets with pitchforks?
I don’t know about you, but during the Great Recession I lost 2/3rds of my business income for several years peddling a non-essential product line. I couldn’t afford to lose my pitchfork too, milling about with aggravated villagers in a torch-lit nighttime revolt, the potential for all get-out to bust loose at any moment. I should mention it’s a really nice pitchfork as pitchforks go. If I keep the tines filed real sharp, I can pick up crumbs (as available) without the indignity of bending over.
Karen once put a pitchfork through her foot. Sort of emblematic of what’s going on now maybe.
That little recession cost me many years of lost glass projects when the public buildings that have a % for Art requirement weren’t getting built anymore. Plus … when the Crunch hit state legislatures, the pitchforks came out to defund public art. I had some real lean years. Didn’t make me want to vote Trump, didn’t make me want to blow up the government buildings either. But I’d like to make up those lost years and it will no doubt take an old man to do it.