*dusts this thing off*
I suck. I really suck. I can go 22 days without a public post and 17 days after a locked one before posting again, so I must suck. I was thinking - even today - "Ha, maybe I'll post in April, maybe I won't." On a blog I offered to abandon for "greener pastures" months ago.
I don't feel like writing about Cheeto, though. He was among the main reasons I stopped (majority Republican Congress being the other, because you can't fight facts). I was too overwhelmed. I wasn't thorough in covering Spray Tan In Chief to begin with - I'd read what others were chewing over or linking to, then pick and choose, usually offering up bits and pieces others didn't - filling the gaps, if you will. Which was good, for a while.
But you can get tired of just being good in a pinch.
Then I started looking at bloggers like solarbird, conuly and gwydion - whose in-depth coverage are the bees knee's - and realized I'm never going to do that. I don't have the time, patience, or attention span. I can't sit at the computer that long verbally wringing my hands over the Deplorange regime because I'll probably go nuts. And sitting at the computer has been bad for me over time, woo-hee has it now.
So if I can't, then maybe I should stop this, because I'm already overwhelmed.
Not to mention my favorite role turns out be cheerleader, surprising even me. I'm more into victories - the first travel ban being held up and revoked, Trump being proven wrong or a liar time and again, the health care bill being held up or failing - than I am into all the currently fashionable doom and gloom.
Even Nancy Pelosi walks around with a half-shocked, half-empty looking in her eyes like she's seen the devil, who is now running our country, the fuck. I can't sink to that level, sorry. An Irish girl's got her pride.
So I can cheer but no one cheers along, can yell "Go team!" and pump a fist in the air but the team's dragging bats, ready to walk off the diamond for good. And so many people are "scared", and I'm like, "What is that?"
No, seriously, what is it?
I was terrified for weeks - maybe months - with the election. One life ended, another began at 2am on Nov. 9th. Both were my own. I've had tons of trouble, sleepless nights and fucked up days where I'm at best in an awful fog and at worst drowning in apprehension. Just for the fact that it went as it did, and that the newly majority Republican Congress moved so fast to undo everything the other side has spent decades fighting for.
And I worried anew over the first Muslim ban because of the heavy implications not just for Muslims but other communities, down the road. But then the orange who fought so hard to push the ban? L-O-S-T. For the 20 years the elevation of a piece of fruit to the highest office in the land aged me and spooked me out of my own skin, at least 12 of those years rolled off my shoulders instantly in just one night, and I haven't really felt so afraid since.
There are more holes in that piece of fruit than you'll find in five blocks of Swiss cheese. He is a joke. Hopefully one that gets thrown out of office soon, and I don't mean in four years - hopefully three and a half times faster than that.
I tried to ask myself tonight while cooking dinner (liver and onions - because maybe I'm anemic) OK, if you're going online later to piss and moan about how inadequate you are against the sheer spectacular whirlwind of bullshit ejected by this ongoing orangado, what will you do about it? Because there's only one thing I hate more than other people whining, and that's me, whining. I'm like, "Action, bitch, take some".
But all that occurrs to me is, "Hire a team of reporters?" Which, dudes, would be heaven. I'd *love* it. I might not run it off Dreamwidth, of course, but have a team, yes.
And a gun for potential grizzly, because you just never know.
But yeah, short of that, I've just kind of fizzled. I'm out of predictions, at least for the moment, but glad the Muslim ban got held up yet again (may it be held up into perpetuity) and glad the health care "plan" got "pulled", though I'd much rather it "die" in an actual "vote", something these cowards are a shade too pale to pull off until it's more "conservative", which is Republican codespeak for "so it kills as many of their own voters as possible".
In the meantime, I realized without logging into or reading Dreamwidth I don't run out of things to do, and my old adage is true. Actually, two of them are. A poem of mine from years ago goes: "Never settle for less/When you want nothing but the best/If you've got to have more/You know where to find the door...I'd rather have nothing at all/Than have a little/But not have it all", which completely sums up how I feel about covering Rumpernado, at least for the moment.
The other adage is "it all comes back around" (actually, that's the title of another one of my poems). I realize we'll spend the next however many years (hopefully, not even one) - collectively, as a country - live on Twitter, CNN, CBS, and coming to radio station near you - watching whomever voted this orange into office get what they asked for, and I'm going to do a lot of that thing where I haltingly laugh into my sleeve, then pretend I was coughing, then wonder how much they're enjoying it.
Live and learn!
They're getting it now. The healthcare bill - should it come forward - will decimate their finances, families, personal well-being, and even take some of their lives. Talk about dying for your country. The shuttering of the Appalachian programs will put the most ardent orange peel supporters - who, I don't kid myself, might very well continue to support him in spite of it - out of their very jobs. And just wait 'til the new tax laws comes out. Just wait.
Mind you, I'm not exactly happy about any of this. But they deserve every last bit of it, a lot more than those who didn't vote for citrus zest ever have or will. Them I feel sorry for. His voters? Uh, maybe get back to me on that.
What happens when you get what you say only others deserve?
When you don't have a conscience until what you wished upon them comes back to bite you right in the ass?
That might be a question we'll spend decades trying to answer, starting right about...now.