The next step

The more simply this is said, the easier it will be for us all to come to grips with it. Folks, this election was indeed illegitimate. John Lewis nailed it. Trump is, quite plainly, flat out, stone cold, illegitimate. The Moscovian Candidate.

It was the Fake Election. Of course it’s bogus. Of course its results don’t mean diddley squat to a hula hoop. This election, were it held in Uruguay or Uzbekistan, would be thrown into a shredder and done over. Why? Two reasons. Putin. Comey.

But this malevolent mess took place in the United Bleeping States of America, the untouchable bastion of liberty and freedom, and the reality of this reality show is now finally sinking in, and it’s frankly so weird, so bizarre, so unprecedented, and so absolutely gigantic in the scope of What It All Means that most Americans still aren’t really dealing with it. I mean, we could barely handle Florida’s hanging chad bullshit. How are we supposed to process this level of evil madness?

But we better. And fast. Because Twitler is now our president.

Mark Morford of the San Francisco Chronicle had a spot-on reaction after that remarkable press conference on the 12th. Check it out:

“[T]his was Trump’s single, overarching message for the nation at his presser, and it was as simple as it was deafening.

“Fuck you, America. I won. I conned you all, and I now am going to do whatever I want. I will obey no rules, laws, whiny ethics committees, popular votes, congressional regulations, media guidelines, conflict-of-interest boundaries, historic precedent. Why should I? I have no filter, no real plan, no fresh ideas, no crisis management strategy, no moral compass. Who needs it? The presidency is now mine to do with as I please, and I will piss all over it like a dog on your favorite carpet.

“Know this now, America: I am not here for you. I am not here for peace, or democracy, or our collective success, or the working classes, or anyone else. I am here only for revenge and to further expand my own wealth, and the world is my punching bag. Thank you for coming, and you may now all feel free to go to hell.”

Is that a bit much? Too real? Too bad. Too goddamned bad. It may be tough to process, granted. But it’s also, unfortunately, an honest, accurate assessment of Twitler’s ’tude. So what to do about it? Well, there’s a nice function this Saturday, as a matter of fact. You’re invited. Here’s to a million marchers in the streets of Earth.