It’s been just over a year since the 2016 U.S. election or, as I like to call it, the election that will not die. Thanks to my near supernatural skills at reading a room, I’ve reached the conclusion that a smattering of journalists are irked at Donald Trump and his aggressive style of leadership.
Maybe it’s not just columnists and other pundits. Maybe non-annoying folks are also feeling hot and bothered over the 45th president’s administration.
To paraphrase a former commander-in-chief – Saint Bill of Clinton – I feel their pain. Now, there was a president who knew how to conduct his affairs … of state.
How we all wish we could return to simpler times, before that one election took the wind out of the collective sails of a nation and world that had previously lived in a veritable Eden of love and fellowship.
Before the 8th day of the 11th month of 2016, it was a time of milk and honey. Violence was unknown. There were no mass shootings and all Americans lived in an age of peace and prosperity. Racial tension had not yet been born. International harmony existed between nations and there was a McChicken in every pot.
It’s galling how Trump came along and ruined everything. He plays golf while murder, crime and widespread pillaging abound. It can all be traced back to that Tuesday last year when angels stopped singing and an era of darkness swept over the land.
There is so much to be angry about. I’ve heard tales of police mistreating, beating and even shooting minorities. Just for the heck of it! I’ve heard rumours of a criminal justice system dealing more harshly with blacks than it does with whites. Onerous bail – which before 2016 was not even contemplated – is now imposed on the poor as a way of keeping them incarcerated while their cases are heard.
I blame Trump for all of that. How I wish it could be pre-November 2016 again, when the prisons were empty and the court dockets light. How I want to return to a world that didn’t even know what opioids were. How I long for the return of that time when I gathered with my core group of Muslim, Hispanic and African-American close friends to watch the football game on a Sunday afternoon.
Oh, how all of us would laugh as we stood together for the national anthem and, while holding hands, marvelled at other countries in the world where such diversity was not celebrated. So unknown was bigotry to us that we scoffed at the tall tales from foreign lands where such a mosaic of mixed ethnicity was not common.
Then Trump ruined it all. I’m so mad at the man that I’m tempted to tweet to him: “Shame! A huge pile of shame on you, sir!” But he’d probably block me just like William Shatner did when I … well, I mustn’t digress.
What really gets my goat is how women have suffered since Trump was elected. Some of my best friends are women (okay, not really). But they’re now paid less than their male counterparts – for doing the same work! I’ve even heard stories of workplace harassment. That sickens me and the fact that it has gone on for 12 whole months now is enough to send me into a veritable tizzy.
I hunger for the days when there was no conflict with North Korea and when our two countries embarrassed the international community with our public displays of affection. All that is gone and it’s you know who’s fault.
So deep is my despair, so acute my desperation in the times of Trump that only one thought consoles me: one day it will all be over and then everything will return to the way it was.
Americans will return to the Garden of Eden and strife-free existence before The Donald.
Troy Media columnist Gavin MacFadyen is a Canada-raised, U.S.-based writer. Blending insight and wit, he brings a unique perspective to the issues of the day.
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