Sometimes a metaphor actually plops into your lap. Or your hands. Or into someplace you hope you don’t drop your cell phone.
That happened to me today, when I read an article in the Huffington Post about one of the, ahem, priorities, of the folks setting up Friday’s Inauguration of Donald J. Trump. And really, it is a metaphor for what is to come.
You see, whenever there is a big event here in the DC area, there’s a lot of shit going on. Literally. Lots of people = lots of pee and poop! So port-a-potties line the Mall, surround the Monuments; and ring the Capitol itself. And in the DC area, one company has the scoop on poop.
When I saw that headline, my first thought was, “Of course they are. They’re covering up all kinds of shit.” But this time they’re not covering up the shit, but the name.
Photo Credit: Michael Showalter for the NY Post
Of course folks are covering up Don’s shit. But it’s up to us to pull off the tape and show the world Don’s Johns. That will be our job for the duration of Trump’s presidency — whether that is for 2 weeks or 4 years. To pull off the tape on Don’s Johns. To expose every breach of law, each unethical behavior, all threats to the rule of law.
THAT is how we will survive Trump. Because you can’t paper over the truth for long.
If you were a news junkie during the George W. Bush era, you’re already experiencing deja vu. That sinking feeling already makes your eyes roll automatically when Putin’s President appears. It settled into the back of your neck from the whiplash as you shake your head and shout “no, no, no, no, no, no, no!” over the latest outrage or tweet. And it’s there in the pit of your stomach, when you try not to vomit whenever you see the color orange.
Yup, it’s started. The Deluge. The Flood. The Trump shit storm.
During the Bush years, I would just be ready to pounce on one issue, when another hit the fan and took the wind out of my sails. Resistance is hard if there is just so much to resist.
How, I worried in the days since November 8, will I survive Trump. I feared a heart attack. A stroke. Getting so scared I’d shit in my pants. Of course I worry about the last one sometimes during a scary movie.
Anyway, I’ve come up with a strategy for a hybrid Resister/Surviving Human. I’m going to become a political centaur!
Google Image. No shit will be given by this filly.
I’m going to take my mother’s marital and parental advice and apply it to my activism. She said:
Choose Your Battles!
Me, I’m going to try to focus on issues I know about and/or that are closest to my heart. The ones I write about here on FiftyFourAndAHalf.
But that won’t be all I do. I will look for and follow the lead of others who are knowledgeable about other issues, and I will try to help to the extent I can. It’s not hard, really, to make calls to Congress and the White House. Really, it just takes a minute. You or I can even just cut and paste and hit “send.”
But I will try my very best to keep my blood pressure — and my outrage to livable levels.
George W. Bush kept us all off balance because there were so many things to be outraged about, that we couldn’t keep it up. Different bad presidents need different tactics.
And Trump will make the Dubya years look like a walk in the park. And that park is in Baghdad.
As I’ve told you, comedy always comes in threes. And today? Today was a veritable shamrock of humor. And you know what? Just when I had had a long lapse in providing all of you with the information that brings you here, it was all poop-related humor.
You’re welcome. It’s my new years’ gift for you.
It started just as soon as I got up and, ummmm, and checked the news headlines. I learned that the Japanese are wiping up. Literally. They are supplying antiseptic wipes for your phone in public bathrooms. Now, I personally wipe my phone quite frequently, so I actually thought this was a great idea, right out of the, ummm, gate.
But then I saw that they provide video instructions. On how to use toilets, different butt wiping techniques, and step-by-step guides for how to wipe your phone.
I know you didn’t click on that. But you should have. At first, I admit that I only watched part of it, because I consider myself a toilet expert. Nobody does the elephant or the horse style better than (or as often as) me. However, the full international experience is worth your 2:11.
You know what? The day got better.
Because I also learned about special-use mittens. They are wet-wipes in the shape of mittens to keep your hands clean while wiping. They’re called “Shittens.” Really! Here’s the product description:
If there’s one great universal truth that we can all agree on, it’s this: No one wants poop on their hands.
And yet, we laugh carelessly in the face of danger every time we take an old fashioned wet wipe to our heinies, flying completely blind in the critical poop-to-hand spatial relation.
How many times have you taken one of those substandard wet wipes to the posterior of a child, risking major contamination from that flailing poop cloth? And how many times has your dog’s “number two” been a little closer to a number one “and a half”, requiring a deadly grab & pull maneuver with whatever’s laying around? Enough is enough!
With new Shittens, you can fully protect your hands while tending to the dirty deed.
Lastly, I read an article that might just give me nightmares:
A woman called Animal Control last week after she found a snake in a toilet in an Arlington County apartment. To repeat: She. Found. A. Snake. In. A. Toilet.
Photo Credit: Arlington County Animal Shelter.
At a minimum, it will make me use the buddy system whenever I skip to my loo.
The snake is a juvenile Yellow Anaconda. Researcher that I am, I looked up Yellow Anaconda snakes. Here’s what I learned:
They belong to the family of snakes, Boidae, which contains pythons, boas and the green anaconda, the world’s largest snake. Even though yellow anacondas are much smaller their cousin the green anaconda (Eunectes murinus), they can reach a length of up to 4.6 meters, but the average adult size is around 3 meters. [Shit, I had to underline that.]
All I can say is that if I found a large snake (or even a small snake, now that I think about it) in my toilet, I wouldn’t call the animal shelter. I’d call Amazon for a shitload of Shittens.
Because it would be “cleanup on aisle 3,” for sure.
Today’s New York Times broke my heart by informing me (can you believe it? — A Newspaper!) that while the electors in the Electoral College will vote tomorrow (Monday, December 19), we won’t actually know the results until January 6. Shit.
UPDATE!
I was wrong. I misunderstood. Perhaps I read the Russian rules.
Trump just now went over the 270 needed to become the 45th (and possibly last) President of the United States.
WE’RE OFFICIALLY SCREWED.
Now back to my original post which is now completely irrelevant:
Still, I want to take just one more opportunity to beg:
Dear Electors:
Please don’t let Donald Trump actually become President of the United States. He’s cray-cray. And could you possibly imagine listening to that 6th grade speaking style for 4 years? Not to mention the fact that he’s already pissed off most of Asia.
Oh and there is that whole bit about Russia interfering with our election.
Google Image
So please, please, vote carefully. Vote as if the future of the world is in your hands. Because it is.
What the hell. Do this. It is just one of the ways we can express our feelings about the fact — yes FACT — that the Russians influenced the 2016 American election.
The entire reason that the Electoral College exists is to protect our nation from an unqualified candidate. Sooo….
Call the White House: Brief the Electoral College on Russia’s sabotage before December 19
The CIA has said that the Russian government sabotaged this election with the express purpose of aiding Donald Trump. Such foreign interference is exactly what the Founding Fathers feared when they set up the Electoral College—as a final buffer before electing the President of the United States.
Before the Electoral College meets on Monday December 19, President Obama must declassify any and all relevant intelligence to Russia’s interference—and officials must brief the electors before they make this decision.
Please call the White House at 1-855-999-1663 and leave this message to President Obama:
I am requesting that President Obama declassify any and all intelligence related to Russia’s interference of the presidential election—and to brief all members of the Electoral College before they meet on Monday, December 19.
Daily Kos wants you to let them know how it went. But frankly, I’m only asking you to make the one call to the White House.
Do I think this will work?
Do I think that enough electors will change their votes?
Do I think that Hillary will become president?
Sadly “No” is the answer to all of these.
But I don’t know about you, but I must speak up (while I still can). For all the things that are important to me that I yammer on about all the time on this blog.
Again and again — we all must speak up. It’s time to get used to using our loudest, most effective protest voices — not our inside voices. We’re going to be calling this number a whole lot in the next few years.
Image from IMBd. I’m pretty sure that Putin and his Pals are not the nice Russians that arrived on our shores in this 1968 movie. Positive.
FiftyFourandAHalf 