I am going to admit something really uncomfortable. In some ways, I really can relate to the Orange Guy in the Oval Office. I bet I would like the meatloaf at the White House. I’m unsteady on my feet. I make way less sense when I talk than when I write (I doubt he makes any sense either way, but still. I’m not the easiest person to have a conversation with and you do not want me to give you directions. I will send your ass down Route 666, and tell Lou Diamond Phillips I said hi.) I have a hard time working umbrellas. Because of some the aforementioned things (and some that are related on a deeper, much less ‘mild gaffe’ sort of way), I know damn well I can’t hold a position where massively important decisions are dropped in my lap. I had to quit work because I did not feel I could adequately piece things together in a timely enough fashion that I could be depended upon to protect the patrons in the library if something horrible went down, and that was a really fucking important part of my job, in my mind.
I have insight, and I know that this is a thing that I can not do. I could not be president. I could not be a surgeon (haha, I’m just thinking of hard it was to get my socks on this morning, you totally want me to put your new corneas in!) I care enough to know that there are many situations where the whole world is better off without me anywhere near. Not down on myself, but I am not a 47 year old toddler. Or a 72 year old toddler.
But we have a man in the White House, propped up by his kids and their evil friends and some shitty opportunistic Tea Party rejects (which kinda sums up the Tea Party anyway, now, because the coolest of the not cool were all like, “This shit is way too stupid and weird. Let’s go sit over there.”) The old man is clearly not well. He isn’t. I mean, he wasn’t to start with, and I’m not a doctor so I can’t tell you if he’s a sociopath or a psychopath or delusional with some sort of hold on reality still or what, but I am first rate at knowing a lifelong asshole when I see one and he was one. He would have been one regardless if dad loved him or not. He would have been one if he had actually been good at business.
But he isn’t well, and the stress and his age are working against him. And America, I know some of you are going to get all spluttery at this. I know enough people now who have had to switch jobs after fifty and those grey hairs work against you (so fuck you, Just for Men. Fuck you.)
If my dad had said Obama was tapping his phones, I would have called the hospital for him, not encouraged him to continue running for president. Because I love my dad. He’s my dad, and he’s not an asshole and I’m not an asshole and I also don’t hate you, America, so I don’t want to have my completely starting to lose his grip relative lead you to destruction.
Except I guess in this case, I am Jared and Ivanka Trump (yes, in my America Jared took her last name. I was hoping it would make him look more spray tanned and less clammy. But he still looks like a clammy ghost boy). And face it, I’m Ivanka and I’ve had to deal with my dad being a creepy asshole to me, to my friends, to the general public, all my life. Oh, he loves me all right. I am better than my brothers or Tiffany (although, let me take the scary Ivanka suit off for a moment… Tiffany must be the smartest one in the bunch. She’s like, fuck this, and pretty much managing to be under the radar. I think she’s in college. I think she probably recognized early on it’s better not to be under dad’s eye. Run, Tiff, run, girl. Save yourself. You and the little one did nothing to deserve this.)
But I don’t say no. And Jared won’t say no. Jared’s creepy shifty eyed friends and dad’s advisors won’t say no. Maybe I really do believe he is right and everything and everyone has a grudge against him and he walks on water. He also leers at my ass. So my moral compass is calibrated to a completely different planet.
Stepping out of the Ivanka suit, again. It is fucking creepy in there, I tell you. It’s like being trapped between the cover and the duvet when you’re switching the cover out and it should work like a pillow case but really you’re trapped in there and you can’t find the fucking opening again… Why isn’t somebody saying something, seriously, because propping this man up and dancing him out, seeing as this bunch is just a bunch of costumed freaks… is a national security threat.
Hello, McConnell? Schumer? Pelosi? Anyone? Pentagon peeps? I know this is highly unusual, but look. Just look. Elder abuse is not a good look, America. And that’s what we’re doing, whether he likes the abuse or not. You don’t need to be highly verbal to make good judgment calls, right? You don’t. You don’t need to be able to walk, or hear, or see, or move your arms in the air and wave them like you just don’t care to make good decisions. You need to be competent. You need to be compassionate. You need to have insight and take time to consider the next move. It’s not entirely about how he speaks. It is totally about who he is. And he is a danger to himself and others.
Allowing an old man of questionable judgment to put himself in danger, never mind the whole goddamn world, is, at the very least, elder abuse. I don’t care about the old bag of shit. Obviously, no one near him does. But America, are we in to elder abuse? Because we’re doing a lot of it.
There are a lot of governors and aides and advisors in the White House saying that it’s fine to sacrifice grandma and grandpa to the coronavirus because of the economy. First, it’s like Wilbur Ross and Larry Kudlow don’t fucking realize they’re old as shit. The governor of Texas, Governor Abbott is… is he paraplegic? I think so. I think he can use his arms pretty well, I don’t know, it’s also irrelevant because the lieutenant governor is on the record saying it only kills people who have been sick and had prior health issues or that are old, and they aren’t contributing or won’t be able to as much, so they can be sacrificed to open shit up… And I’m thinking, is he trying to get a promotion by manslaughter? Is that it?
Are you saying that the older population, America (including older America) is now the “well, they’re a product of their time so they should just fuck off and die?” generation? Because that’s not cool. That’s not okay. None of this is okay.
The fact that none of these people are vaguely reasonable or fucking cognizant of reality is not okay. But fucking forgive me, watch him at some of these press briefings (I know, I fucking hate him and I yell and the dogs get scared and attack each other and then I have to take them to the vet because Bruce is very much in tune to how upset I get and he will make others bleed. It is why I will also not let my pug be president. Even though he’s probably more competent). They are velcroing his hair on, powdering him so he makes Jared look extra clamtastic, and rolling him out there and it’s embarrassing and cruel.
He’s not a leader. He’s never been a businessman (and why that should be a plus in a public office is still sort of unclear. I mean, I get it. But big fucking deal. I worked retail. Make me president. I don’t get it get it). He played a businessman on television. And there’s something wrong with us that we will let the people around this despicable man prop him up and parade him out and allow him to advocate for killing the people in his age range.
Can we call adult protective services in DC? Seriously? No, I mean, seriously? Could they help? Because there’s a whole lot of wrong happening. I don’t know who started it, but they all need to be kept away from each other… and my dad. And yours. And you.