In Which ‘Puter Gets Disenfriendchised By Everyone On Facebook
I posted what follows on my personal Facebook page moments ago. Let the hate commence.
I figure most of you have already muted me permanently, and that the rest will after this, but here goes.
I’ve been fairly quiet since Trump won the election. I’ve watched much of what’s occurred since then, and it hasn’t been pretty. I’ve stayed quiet this long because I figured the shock of Trump’s victory would wear off eventually. It hasn’t.
Many here seem to forget that we Republicans exist in your feeds. We see what you think of us by what you choose to post about us, what you actually write about us. We notice what you’ve said post-election, even if we haven’t engaged.
I say this, respectfully, to my friends.
Donald J. Trump is my president. He is also your president. Saying Trump is not my president is (1) factually wrong and (2) empty, false virtue signaling. Ranting “#NotMyPresident” may be cathartic, but it’s also what you (rightly) berated Republicans for during Obama’s presidency.
The derangement about Trump on the Democrats’ part is every bit as vile and ugly as the derangement about Obama was on the Republican side.
I get it. You don’t like Trump. Guess what? Neither do I. I didn’t vote for him. I didn’t like or vote for Obama either, and neither did nearly half of all Americans. For eight years Democrats told us “we won” and “mandate” and “STFU” any time we objected in good faith to anything Obama did. Today the shoe is on the other foot and you don’t like it at all.
Let’s be honest. Trump and Obama are cut from the same governing cloth. They’re both authoritarians. The only difference is on whose behalf, and against whom, the federal government’s massive power was/will be used. Yes, Trump’s a sexist pig. Yes, Obama is by all accounts a good and decent man. But neither fact changes how they view and use governmental power.
If you’re concerned today about the unconstitutional concentration of power in the executive when Trump wields it but had no issues with it yesterday when Obama wielded it, well, you may want to spend some time thinking about that dissonance.
And that, to me, seems to be what all of this is about. Democrats lost power, and now you’re afraid Republicans will treat your values and ideals the way Democrats treated ours over the last eight years. I understand that fear. I’ve lived it.
I’ll note here that treating every good and decent Republican candidate as Hitler’s second coming because you disagreed with his policies is how you got Americans to ignore your valid warnings about Trump.
Trump may be unqualified. He may be dangerous. He may cause all kinds of consternation and worry. He may even cause a war. But can we at least wait until he actually does something before we lose our collective minds?
My best guess is Trump has zero interest in relitigating social issues like gay marriage and abortion. Hell, Trump was pro-choice and pro-gay marriage until last year. Just wait and see what he actually does. He’s far more likely to cross you on economic, foreign policy, and immigration issues.
By all means, protest Trump (without rioting, as we saw in DC today). Work to get Democrats elected. Vigorously contest legislation, judicial appointments, administrative rules, and executive orders with which you disagree. That’s American. That’s helpful. That’s your right and your responsibility. That’s how this government thing is supposed to work.
But stop the endless, unproductive, off-putting whining. You lost. Pick yourselves up, dust yourselves off and get on with it.
And who knows? Some of us may even help you stymie Trump on issues where we find common ground.
Always right, unless he isn’t, the infallible Ghettoputer F. X. Gormogons claims to be an in-law of the Volgi, although no one really believes this.
’Puter carefully follows economic and financial trends, legal affairs, and serves as the Gormogons’ financial and legal advisor. He successfully defended us against a lawsuit from a liquor distributor worth hundreds of thousands of dollars in unpaid deliveries of bootleg shandies.
The Geep has an IQ so high it is untestable and attempts to measure it have resulted in dangerously unstable results as well as injuries to researchers. Coincidentally, he publishes intelligence tests as a side gig.
His sarcasm is so highly developed it borders on the psychic, and he is often able to insult a person even before meeting them. ’Puter enjoys hunting small game with 000 slugs and punt guns, correcting homilies in real time at Mass, and undermining unions. ’Puter likes to wear a hockey mask and carry an axe into public campgrounds, where he bursts into people’s tents and screams. As you might expect, he has been shot several times but remains completely undeterred.
He assures us that his obsessive fawning over news stories involving women teachers sleeping with young students is not Freudian in any way, although he admits something similar once happened to him. Uniquely, ’Puter is unable to speak, read, or write Russian, but he is able to sing it fluently.
Geep joined the order in the mid-1980s. He arrived at the Castle door with dozens of steamer trunks and an inarticulate hissing creature of astonishingly low intelligence he calls “Sleestak.” Ghettoputer appears to make his wishes known to Sleestak, although no one is sure whether this is the result of complex sign language, expert body posture reading, or simply beating Sleestak with a rubber mallet.
‘Puter suggests the Czar suck it.