I’d considered trying to write something long and detailed about our new president, but when Inauguration Day arrived, I didn’t have the stomach or time for it.
My politics are pretty clear to anyone I know on social media, so I probably don’t need to say more than that while I hope he’s a good president, I don’t think there’s any realistic chance of that happening. Trump is not presidential material, which makes his current job even more colossally ironic.
What really gets me angry today is how Trump mocks a set of illusions that I’ve built my life around. These illusions or beliefs are built on and reinforced by my own white male privilege, but Trump now gleefully disproves them – that for instance a good person will do better for himself and people he loves than a bad person, or that the combination of intelligence and hard work will beat assholery and privilege.
Grasping, tawdry, vulgar, and ignorant, Trump has nonetheless succeeded. He’s the most powerful person in the world.
I’m not going to jettison those illusions of mine yet, though. Maybe I’m a dumbass for not doing so. But I’ve read this novel, and I think I remember the ending.