High Noon, Low Fever

(Inauguration 2017: the day of whine and roses)

~-~-~-~-~-~

Twelve noon. 20 January 2017.

In a peaceful transition of power … except for sullen, pouty, adult Democrats in Congress, who stayed home holding their breath and stomping their feet … Donald John Trump becomes the 45th President of the United States. And, to the surprise (or disappointment) of many, Earth did not stop spinning.

As we’ve learned over the last year or so, Mr. Trump, born on 14 June 1946 in Queens, New York City, is an American businessman whose résumé includes billionaire, real estate magnate, television personality, author, husband, father, grandfather, and President of the United States.

Oh. And antichrist.

For over a year now, many of America’s less stable citizens have been perfecting their Jeremiah impersonations, woe-is-us-ing us about the pending end of civilization if candidate Trump were to ever become President. There’d be no more electricity or heat, racial wars were inevitable, the stock market was going to collapse and land on “undocumented workers,” nobody would have any healthcare, or retirement income, or relatives, and it would snow in Miami for 40 days and 40 nights.

And then Trump won. Several bald eagles committed suicide, all communication satellites failed, and Saturn exploded. The Statue of Liberty was seen crying copper tears. Half of Hollywood gnashed their garments and tore their teeth, and started packing for Canada…but then they do that about every two years anyway, and nobody’s actually left yet.

Too bad.

Next, between the election in early November and last week’s Inauguration Day, the aforementioned unstables worked non-stop to try and overturn the results. There were cries of election tampering (allegedly) initiated by the Russians, who had attempted to bribe voters in California by distributing free calendars featuring Vladimir Putin riding various half-naked animals. There was outrage over the FBI threatening to reopen the case into Hillary’s illegal activities, though there was no outrage whatsoever over Hillary’s illegal activities. There were demands of vote recounts in several key States, including efforts by the pathologically confused politician Elizabeth Warren, a wide-eyed and agitated American Indian who claims to be a woman.

And then, at last, came President Trump’s inauguration, a non-partisan non-political event boycotted by several dozen partisan politicians, along with a handful of Bargain Bin musicians, because protesting is what they do now instead of selling albums. It had rained lightly, the morning of the event, causing several career atheists to point out that God was angry, too.

Protestors lined the streets and avenues of the nation’s capital, waving handmade, misspelled placards and babbling bad poetry, like “Not my President | Just a occupant” and “Love trumps hate | But I hate trump | I’m confused | So let’s eat lunch”.

I saw one sign reading “CLIMATE JUSTICE NOW.” What happened? Did somebody waterboard winter?

In several cities across the country, vulgar little vandals took to the streets to participate in that time-honored tradition of American political debate: destruction of other people’s property. One pack of protest animals in DC torched a limousine, I suppose because the protestors thought the limo had voted for Trump. Another group smashed the windows of a Starbucks, because, you know, coffee = injustice.

The criminals chose to refer to their behavior as “making a political statement” or, as it used to be known, a felony.

MSNBC’s showcase psychotic, Chris “Barack Makes My Leg Tingle” Matthews got even more unhinged than before, which is hard to imagine. Chris howled that President Trump’s attitude of “America first” in his inauguration speech smacked of something Adolph Hitler might say, which doesn’t say much for Chris’ fragile relationship with reality, much less his knowledge of geography. (And it’s not going to help Chris at his eventual, inevitable asylum discharge hearings when the doctors find out that, as the exiting first family pulled away from the White House, Chris was caught hiding in Obama’s luggage.)

And Saturday, the day after the Inauguration, was not free of dissent, either. Hundreds of women with pituitary problems and bad fashion sense descended on DC, to protest…something or other. Capital police claimed to be ready for a potential blizzard of turquoise jewelry, scarves, and sensible shoes.

But the 2017 Presidential election finally concluded, Americans have a new President, and the sun still rose, and the sun still set, and the moon still arrived, and doctors say the wounded limousine will survive. President Trump delivered his inaugural speech without incident or any adult Democrats making splatty noises with their armpits. The new President’s first speech was a well-crafted oration that lasted a historically short sixteen minutes…which is also the attention span of your average MSNBC viewer.

Coincidence? I think not.

Leave a Reply