Kevin Brennan Writes About What It's Like
Just in case you think I’ve moved on from the travesty that was the 2016 presidential election, I want you to know that my ulcer is coming along very nicely. I’ve even given it a name, since we’ll be together for the next four years (at least). Its name is Eric.
It’s important that those of us who did everything they could to prevent Trump from winning overcome our disheartenment and continue to speak out. Write blog posts like this one, sign online petitions that you never hear about again, or even tweet your rage, like Trump himself does. In fact, I actually replied to one of his tweets recently:
I’m probably on some kind of enemies list now, but I can’t not speak the truth. There was no need to capitalize “theater.”
Since the election, we’ve learned that the president-elect is flipping the country off vis-à-vis his financial conflicts of interest, is going back on his promise to “drain the swamp” by appointing only the most heinous of corporate insiders and political barbarians, is undoing thirty-five years of diplomacy by talking directly to the president of Taiwan, is costing the people of New York City millions of dollars by holing up in Trump Tower 24/7, and is continuing to tweet about such trivial things as whether Saturday Night Live is any good:
Sad isn’t the word for what I’m feeling these days. Sad is way too cheerful.
Anyway, back to the ramparts. Eric and I are hell for leather in this fight.