Well, thank goodness we made it through Christmas and into 2018. Another new year.
If you don’t have Sirius (and I don’t), you might have gotten tired of rocking around the Christmas tree. I did. And maybe by next year, all the radio stations will have gotten the memo that Baby, It’s Cold Outside is the date rape song, and good progressives cannot listen to it without starting a diatribe that will almost certainly include the terms “internalized patriarchy” and “sexual entrapment.”
Suffice it to say that I was thrilled to hit the search button on the radio and move from Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer to something by Stevie Nicks. And don’t even get me started on that reindeer song.
I dusted off my old visualization techniques from my metafloozie days to try to conjure up a couple of Christmas indictments from the Mueller team, but it’s time to admit that Bob Mueller is not Santa Claus. (He can still be my Valentine if he plays his cards right.)
Then there was so much love and goodwill as we slid through Christmas into the New Year that I had to test my blood sugar, and I’m not even diabetic. There were more Stuart Smalley style Daily Affirmations being pushed around social media than I could count. Lord, I hope this isn’t how Al Franken is going to spend his time now that he’s out of the Senate. Although I could make a case for why he has every right to torture at least some of us—and by us, I mean those other people.
And to top it off, we were reminded of the true blessings of family and friends by people who were spending the holidays as far away from any blood relative as their frequent flyer miles would take them.
So it was that I began to look forward to a return to normalcy, such as it might be in this old world in this new year.
I got up Wednesday morning to find that I agreed with Steve Bannon on something. SMDH. And since Bannon uses such salty language, maybe that should be SMFH. How am I supposed to process that I agree with this man when he described that infamous meeting in Trump Tower with Kushner, Manafort and Trump, Jr., and all those Russians as treasonous and unpatriotic?
But before the day was over, Trump would declare war on Bannon. Not in the elegant way that Glenn Close did against John Malkovich in Dangerous Liaisons. But in that rude and dismissive way—the Trump scorched earth way—that I can’t help but enjoy watching when it’s directed at someone I don’t like.
Trump has tried to strip Bannon of anything to do with his winning the election, which seems a stretch as Bannon was the chief executive of the campaign. He goes on to accuse Bannon of having “everything to do with the loss of a Senate seat in Alabama.” Which is, well, true. Now I’m agreeing with Trump? SMDH.
Then I saw a picture of Doug Jones being sworn in by Mike Pence to that very Senate seat. If you haven’t seen it, go google “gay side eye.” Seeing a young gay man throw shade that hard at the Vice President of the United States, well, it just warmed my heart.
And, what was Carson Jones thinking as he looked at Pence? “What would happen if I threw a bucket of water on you?”
If these first few days of 2018 are any indication, we’re not just experiencing another op’nin’ of another year. This may be a real roller coaster ride of a year. Maybe we’ll see more Christmas songs hit the don’t playlist. Maybe there will be more indictments. Maybe the war between Trump and Bannon will escalate. Maybe the war of words between Trump and Kim Jong Un won’t. Maybe someone other than Trump will say, “When he was fired, he not only lost his job, he lost his mind.”
And maybe I’ll spend less time SMDH.