A youthful and markedly reserved household member today shared, “yrmama. Three signs might be too much. It’s kind of loud. I’m not really a sign dude.” To which yrmama replied, “Dude. I know. If it was entirely up to me I might have no signs at all.” It feels very flamboyant, three of them out there, stretched along a long curve in the road. But for Pete’s sake (see what I did there?), here on the verdant left edge of academic suburbia no one will get too riled. This is a demonstration of a strong marriage, of bending ourselves to make up for each other’s eccentricities. The youth of America need to see how that works.
I’m mostly sobered and worried by Don, and have cut my news consumption by a lot in the past couple of weeks and am not thinking about the campaign all that much either. Since that vertiginous morning three years ago I have been taking the news straight up in large quantities, trying to crack the Code of Donald before my liver gives out. And now, with the end in sight one way or another I am losing the heart to watch us crash and burn in slo-mo.
Yet another household member remarked, “I watched a ‘what does he eat in a day video’ about Donny. He cracks a pop first thing in the morning and then drinks them all day. Plus he’s old and fat and eats a lot of steak.” The subtext being – Bernie is also an old white guy with rage issues too and he had a heart attack. Why is any of this okay?
Why is it okay to have a lower limit on presidential age but not an upper limit? Why do we need an age limit at all? Shouldn’t the right to vote and the right to run for office go together? Are not the youth of America and the aged of America not all inherently wise enough to probably not elect a ninety-nine year old on a ventilator or a gangly high school senior who cannot yet have a glass of champagne to celebrate their victory? Yet we elected Donald and now have to lie in that rancid bed of well-buttered bread. Are there any laws we could make up that would make any of this okay?