The Morning After

I can picture it. Boris Johnson and Donald Trump kicking back, enjoying a libation of some sort, basking in their respective victories, a real mutual admiration society. Both of them marveling at how wonderful they are and how stupid the people are. It wasn’t easy, they’ll confide– pulling the wool over so many eyes. But they managed to do it, because they are masters of their respective domains.

There will always remain an unbridgeable chasm. I will never be able to empathize with or relate to those who find Donald Trump and his goons to be the answer to our ills.

I will never understand how we can be in such different places, how we seemingly don’t share any of the same concerns. Mitch McConnell and the rest are fine with defending Trump and wonder why many are so upset, while the other side sees McConnell and most Republicans as spineless toadies trampling on the Constitution and propping up a puppet who didn’t want the job in the first place.

Half the country feels like the sky is falling, and half is doing its best Alfred E. Newman imitation, seriously wondering what all the fuss is about.

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