Maybe tomorrow I'll be ready to jump on the "Okay-it's-over-so-now-let's-just-all-unite-and-support-this-great-country-of-ours" bandwagon. But not today.
Today I'm all like Nope! Not my president! He will never be the boss of me!
Maybe tomorrow I'll be ready to acknowledge that God is in this somewhere, and that maybe, for reasons we can't begin to fathom, we needed this. But not today.
Today I'm all like This system is rigged! I demand a recount!
Maybe tomorrow I'll believe that he was being sincere when he said "I want to be president for all of you...To those of you who were against me--and there are some--I reach out and ask you to tell me what I can do for you." But not today.
Today I'm all like Jackass, please! Spare us any more of your frickin' lies!
Maybe tomorrow I'll be able to put aside my panic and hysteria, and remind myself that there are checks and balances in place--that not even his followers will be as surprised as he is when he realizes that he alone can't fix anything. But not today.
Today I'm all like Just wait until you deplorable idiots realize that you've bought yourselves a passel of empty words and promises, and that your savior is made out of cheddar cheese!
Maybe tomorrow I'll be able to calmly ask "Will you please at least keep the part of Obamacare where insurance companies can't refuse to cover you because of a pre-existing condition?" But not today.
Today I'm all like If you repeal Obamacare, you will have essentially screwed me, so you might as well go ahead and touch me inappropriately! What's that? I'm not your type? Well then call me Lucky!
Maybe tomorrow I will be mature and keep my childish remarks to myself. I know that what this world needs is not more ugliness and insults. Maybe tomorrow I'll be able to "go high." But not today.
Today I'm all like Hey, this is my pity party, and I'm allowed to say whatever the hell I want!
Today. But not tomorrow.
Tomorrow is another day.
4 comments:
I hope a year or so from now the yeah trumps are not saying "oh fuck" and the rest if us are saying " you wanted him, now what we ginna do". I hope that in 18 minths i can retire ( or win rhe lottery) and still eat.
Wonderfully written. I share all of your silent, grieving thoughts, Kate. I spent this morning sobbing, in shock and disbelief. I didn't quite have your courage, or knack for words, but I sure appreciate seeing it out there. Thank you!
Cindy, you posted an excellent blog. We have lost so much. I think -- I have to think -- that we'll be okay, but first we need to grieve.
Thanks, John. Yes, I'd like to think that we'll figure out a way to come together and make this work. It's just too early.
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