Here We Are

To be honest, I had very low expectations for the Trump Administration. I have never met Mr. Trump or watched his television show. I never ate Trump steaks. I never sipped Trump Water. I never drowned my sorrows with Trump Vodka. I scored average on my ACTs, so I didn’t attend Trump University. Still, my expectations were pathetically low.

Despite my complete lack of knowledge about Mr. Trump and his brand, I still thought he was a fucker. I don’t know why. Maybe it was his too perfect hair. Maybe his bombastic attitude. It could be the inherent class envy the poor feels for the rich. Whatever the reason, Mr. Trump always popped high on the fucker scale.

So watching Trump’s three ring shit show pass itself off as a presidential campaign has been particularly annoying. To be fair, there was the scab picking painful satisfaction of watching Mr. Trump crush establishment pricks like Marco Rubio and Ted Cruz. But that was tempered with the frustration of seeing John Kasich try to establish himself as the adult in the room. But honestly, I believed Mr. Trump to be the least repulsive Republican choice.

Then came what passed for a National Presidential Campaign, Mr. Trump spent an inordinate amount of time defending his pussy grabbing youth indiscretions. Nothing of substance was discussed. People bitched about building a wall to keep job stealing Syrians out of Maine or some shit, and there was plenty of Alt Right free trade bashing NAZI punks yelling Trump, Trump, TRUMP!.

Still, there was balance. When Mrs. Clinton wasn’t explaining her emails or Benghazi, she promised a post sexist, post racist, fuck your glass ceiling you’ve come a long way baby rainbow coalition New World Order. A world where color and gender didn’t matter. Hipsters could finally sip fair trade coffee with like minded trust funders of color. And everyone could make room for more coffee by pissing in gender neutral restrooms.

Then the election came. And just like that, the dream of transgender drinking fountains gave way to Breitbart in the White House. The streets were still damp with liberal tears when Wall Street insiders began visiting Trump Towers. Even Mitt “Theon Greyjoy” Romney got in on the action. And so here we are.

I may try that Trump Vodka after all.

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