What It Feels Like, Right Now:
Living here in America right now feels like that time.
Stuck riding shotgun in a car with a drunk driver.
It’s hard to focus. It’s hard to focus on the things in front of me, that I need to do. It’s hard to focus on the news, because it’s not just one thing, it’s a hundred things, news like fire ants, like you stepped on their mound and here they are, swarming, and each ant feels meaningless in the context of all these angry fucking ants.
One weird thing that gives me hope, real hope, is that for the last eight-plus years, I could drive around this area and I knew, I knew there were houses that you could count on to have all the TRUMP SHIT out. The banners and flags and crazy-person signs and rah-rah-rah, Dear Leader, Dear Leader. I drive around now and those houses, almost all of them, have taken down their Dear Leader shit. Maybe it’s because they know it’s not popular but I think for some of them it’s because they’re finally starting to see. Eight years of cult propaganda on their lawns, gone. I drove up through Pennsyltucky last weekend, a good hour’s drive, a drive I’ve made before. And I knew I was going to see a lot of gloaty-bloaty Trump shit on their lawns, porches, houses. I saw one. One house with signs out. The house was condemned. Half of it, falling down. Junk all over the lawn. Nobody lived there anymore, by the look of it. And even if they did, they didn’t.