If you’re a writer and a blogger, these are easy times. Subjects worthy of a few hundred words crowd the paper’s front pages and vie for space. In a way, this is a chronicler’s heaven. It’s so facile to write that is has become hard.

Reprise that old joke once applied to addicts and alcoholics: How do you know when Trump is lying? His lips move.

The rampant dishonesty of cabinet members is almost too easy. Who could have even foreseen something as ludicrous as Pruitt’s second-hand mattress? Who would have thought even a dumb-as-a-post politician could believe and legitimatize one of the world’s most repressive dictators? Oh, and do so while belittling far smarter and more competent allied leaders. The wildly entertaining porn reports have subsided, but they’re sure to resurface as soon as Trump denies them again. Crooked lawyers who represent POTUS and take advantage of such an honor? Par for the course in these sad times.

Really, it’s like shooting fish in a barrel. The truth has become a negotiable commodity and lost its allure. Diogenes is weeping. Me, I remain amazed that we have not taken to the streets with buckets of hot tar, fathers, torches and pitchforks, because, let’s face it, a leader who routinely defies the laws of the land does not deserve constitutional protection. It’s going to get worse as Trump increasingly alienates friends, sucks up to repressive regimes and generally acts like an asshole. The opposition—read Democrats—is so caught up in playing king of the mountain that it is missing the only opportunity to change things in the very near future.

I see and read about Trump and the only recent leader I can compare him to is the late Idi Ami of Uganda, who proclaimed himself world heavyweight boxing champion and King of Scotland. Uganda was once called the Pearl of Africa, and Amin almost singlehandedly drove the country back to poverty, not to mention ridicule. Idi is dead. Trump, apparently, is not, even though the orange look is beginning to display a  recently deceased and embalmed appearance.

In this era, the absurd is in charge. The pharmaceutical industry responsible for fentanyl, which has caused thousands upon thousands of death, is in court to make sure its drug is not used in legal executions. Might make Big Pharm look bad, ya know.

Less than twenty immigrant families have been reunited with the children kidnapped by ICE. That leaves approximately 2880 unaccounted kids living in detention camps.

There’s a strong chance that the once-again-conservative Supreme Court will roll back Roe-Wade. The probably-incoming replacement for retiring Justice Kennedy, believes the President is above the laws and should not be held accountable for transgressions.

The EPA is sanctioning the hunting of grizzlies and red wolves. Who here remembers the clubbing to death of baby harp seals?

Actually, it’s probably better to forget that dismal era. Trump is likely to sanction the clubbing of baby immigrants.




About epiphanettes

Writer, songcrafter, possibly the best French pedal steel guitarist in Virginia.
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2 Responses to Absurd

  1. débora Ewing says:

    It’s logical to you that we should take to the streets – My friend Emily tells me that Taking To the Streets is the French National Pastime. Sadly, we’re in the Reality TV era of American History. I can’t guess how many decades it’s going to take before our descendants are going to be able to look back on this and laugh.

  2. epiphanettes says:

    National pastime or not, it works….

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