I have to admit that I thought that finding out that the Previous Occupant had been convicted of 34 felonies would make me happier. Instead, I just find myself hoping he owns a gun. I want this bastard to face some fucking consequences for something, God damn it. And that pants-shitting waste of my oxygen got to walk out of the courtroom and bitch about the trial being rigged again, so this ain’t it yet.
In other news, the last day of school is tomorrow, and I am not literally too tired to live, at least insofar as I am quite clearly still alive, but I could probably convince myself otherwise. Tomorrow will go by quickly, and then year 20 (21? I may need to recount) will be in the books.
One more day. Piece of cake.
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I am more excited and happy than I thought I would be, so tonight I am going to pretend that it matters.
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For whatever it’s worth, I’m trying to remind myself that I know nothing about politics, and also the part of my brain that is saying “this will not/ does not matter” is exactly the same part of my brain that was insisting that even a conviction was impossible, and yet here we are. He has, in fact, not won a single court case yet.
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I am making an effort to learn more and can only handle so much before I go back to fiction.
What I *really* do not understand is how and why he has as much support as he does, especially from powerfulinfluential people who should know better.
For now, I am a one-person conga line: “Donald Trump’s a fel-ON! Donald Trump’s a fel-ON!” Ba-dum-bum-bum-bum-bum-BUM!
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