Many of my friends are still saying they’ll take a wait and see attitude toward Herr Trumpf. Maybe I have a shorter fuse: It’s time for me to enter the political sphere long enough to send him back to the real estate profession where he has performed so abysmally. I would rather he build more stupid Trumpf Towers with gold plumbing fixtures and Trumpf Golf Courses than upend my country and send it reeling into the abyss. He will, of course, go bankrupt again. But that’s okay, so long as he doesn’t bankrupt all of us.
How long before we burn all our allies and enter into unfriendly relations with everyone—except for Dear Putin. Even he will realize that the Trumpf is not something one wishes upon one’s worst enemy.
George Orwell did not write 2017: That’s something our President with his supinely cowardly Congress is in the process of doing. Poor Orwell got out while the going was good. We are not quite so lucky.
Next week I intend to call my Congressman and both of California’s Senators. I know they will secretly sympathize with me, but I would still like to see what they could do. No one could move Mitch McConnell and Paul Ryan—who have supped and continue to sup with infamies.