“What Would We Do Baby, Without Us?”

Today is July fifteenth, and this is only my third entry in my “Surviving Trump” journal. My long silence between  November and July should not be mistaken for shock. It was more like horrified depression-induced writer’s block. In my recent July 9th entry I asked for someone to please step forward and blow the lid off of this thing. It’s not just me. The anxiety level that comes from being continuously lied to can be felt in the air. It’s like trying to breathe rocks, rocks made of crap, crap made of lies.

The least expected person did come forward to reveal what his father and father’s supporters are still unthinkably making excuses for. Well, it’s not really unthinkable anymore, considering the widespread popularity of alternative facts. Correct that to “thinkably.” Maybe Don Jr., for stepping forward, should be my new unwitting hero. But that’s just too icky. After all, he was under tremendous pressure to do so.

Hope in Don Trump Jr emails

Don’t Like Father, Don’t Like Son

When the story first started breaking that Trump Jr. had a meeting with people from Russia who wanted to help his father win the election, I was understandably glad that the truth was finally coming out. But I soon realized that no matter how clear the evidence, there are still many mendacity-committed people that are right there to pick up the crap rocks and shove them under our noses. They won’t stop. They’re paid to do this. These people have come to seem more like machines than people – crap rock machines.

I’ve been asking myself an intriguing question this week:

“Could Donald Trump’s son possibly set up a meeting with (at least) eight people in attendance – all hoping to work together (collude) to help Trump Sr. win the presidency and NOT tell his father about it?” It’s too easy to imagine him proudly announcing it to dear ol’ Dad before, during (maybe on speaker phone) and after – in a father-son recap. I answered myself that there is just no possible way that the bit about not telling his dad was gonna pass the smell test. CRAP ROCKS! That slogan’s not really bumper sticker ready though, is it?

Transparent Trump

Donald Trump Jr. surprised a lot of people by releasing seemingly damning emails on Twitter earlier this week. For this reason some are calling him transparent. I would appreciate this 39-year-old fine young man’s transparency so much more if it were real, as in: if it had come in June of last year instead of July of this year. I don’t know about you, but every time something new comes to light in this ongoing investigation, I tease myself with the idea that the spokespersons for Trump Sr. will have no other option left except TRUTH TELLING. It gets me all excited. Then they start talking again. Excitement over. I find myself fantasizing about the ones who seem to be on auto-lie suddenly being compelled to tell nothing but the truth. Wouldn’t that just be riveting?

I’m learning a lot about our government through this, and it’s not pretty. It’s educational, but at the same time disheartening, sickening and very disappointing. I expect politicians to shade the truth, okay, lie once in awhile, but when evidence keeps mounting up and they continue to say that the sky is below us and the moon is square, I get very, very, very tired of it.

I Understand the Art of the Dupe

I’ve tried to not watch, listen to or read the story of the catastrophe of a presidency I like to call “The Trump Months.” But I am so invested in this! I can’t look away. I care about the people who are being hurt by this, or in the firing line to be hurt. Healthcare? For one thing, no one should attach the word “care” to the end of something that so obviously isn’t about caring. So much winning? I cringe every time he revisits his short list of “wins.” He’s so damn proud of those pipelines – no concern for who they hurt.

Basket of Exploitables? I feel great empathy for the people who actually believe in his willingness to help anyone but himself. I once believed in an advertising con-man turned “God’s only true apostle” who led a group of 80,000 people in a church he deemed to be “God’s only true church.” I know what it’s like to be duped! I know what it’s like to be told that there are problems and only one man can solve them. I’ve seen this kind of ego-maniacal mind in action before. Pre-Twitter, but just as ugly.

Trump can’t kill my HOPE!

Something keeps pulling me back to the news coverage. I think the best word for it is HOPE. I feel that I have a responsibility to see this through, step by agonizing step. I’m sure it has something to do with (here it comes again) the fact that I was in a religious cult as a child and young adult, and this experience feels very much like that in a myriad of tell-tale ways. I helped to heal myself from the memories of abuse by writing a book about my experiences, in fiction form, so as not to be sued by the guilty.

Draining the Swamp

I hope that the truth will all come out – or at least all that has not been tampered with or destroyed by now. I want this man and his minions to be exposed and their true motives to be revealed so that people will never again be fooled by him or someone like him. I may be foolish to hope for so much, but I do.

And how ironic it will be that because of him, the swamp will be drained. Those who are willing to say almost anything to keep propping up their gator, even though they must realize that he would never do the same for them, are being exposed. History will memorialize their character by whether or not they were on the side of truth. No new statues will be made with a carefully chiseled plaque honoring “The Great Colluder.”  And at the end of it, what do his supporters think they will gain? Finally his favor will no longer be considered to be worth the putrefaction of one’s soul. History will not be kind to the alternative fact spewers, but that which is called “FAKE” and proven to be accurate, will stand the test of time.

That’s the kind of stuff my dreams are made of! “Sha la la la…”

P.S.  I don’t think Alex P. Keaton would like Trump.