Clinton, South Carolina, Friday, February 17, 2017, 11:15 a.m.
I’m tired, and I think it’s President Trump’s fault.
I should exercise, but, first, I need to be exorcised of President Trump. It requires too much exertion. It is an altogether futile assertion.
I don’t like the man, nor his policies, but he makes ideology irrelevant. He’s everywhere. I don’t need to follow him on Twitter. Everything he tweets gets retweeted by everyone else. I turn on any news channel, and there he is. I watch an old movie, and one of the characters reminds me of him. I watch a ballgame, and one of the coaches reminds me of him. I think of my late father, and he reminds me of him.
NASCAR’s Brian France already reminded me of him.
I was watching a rerun of The Mary Tyler Moore Show earlier this morning, and Ted Baxter awakened after dozing off and said he’d been dreaming he was mud-wrestling with Indira Gandhi. Tonight I’m going to be afraid to go to sleep. I might have to battle the Donald-Headed Dragon with a Swiss Army knife and a pack of firecrackers.
I’m unsure whether we are of him or he of us. Is he the result of an explosion, or is he pushing the plunger?
I’ve always believed the former. I don’t blame problems on the politicians. I blame us for putting them there. It’s not always fortunate that the system works. It’s our fault. We get what we vote for. Exactly. If big money calls the shots, it’s because we let it happen.
We elected Trump. By definition, we deserve him.
Trump will soon appear everywhere he isn’t already. I expect him to be telling me all about reverse mortgages any minute now. He’ll pop up selling storm windows, and rotisserie ovens, and offering an all-expenses-paid, Caribbean vacation, and all I’ll have to do is listen to a brief sales presentation.
God, we overreact. God, I’m overreacting right now.
I’ve been hearing the word “anarchist” lately, most often in reference to violent demonstrators who lay waste to the very communities they claim to represent.
Anarchism does not offer a fixed body of doctrine from a single particular point of view, instead fluxing and flowing as a philosophy.*
Just who are the anarchists here?
Russia is a ruse. The leaks are real. The news is fake. I notice you’re black. Could you set up a meeting with the Congressional Black Caucus for me? I’ve been leaning toward a two-state solution, but the more I think about it, a one-state solution might be better, unless it’s not, and then I might consider a two-state solution again. Whatever’s best, that’s what I’m for, and I can assure you I know what’s best. I stole this ramble on Middle East peace from Groucho Marx, by the way. I’m not a bad person, you know. In fact, I already know everything. Of that, I can assure you bigly.
Mitch McConnell just said the president is “extra-discussive.” He beat NASCAR to that word, and that is hard to do. Let me return the favor. The election had “an encumbered finish.”
*Marshall, Peter (2010). Demanding the Impossible: A History of Anarchism.
If you’d like me to mail you a signed copy of Cowboys Come Home, or any of my other novels, you can find my address and instructions at montedutton.com. (montedutton.com/blog/merchandise)
I’ve written five novels and a collection of short stories. I’ve also written a number of books about sports, mostly about NASCAR. You can find most of them here.
The Kindle versions of my books, where available, can be found above. Links below are to print editions.
My new novel is a western, Cowboys Come Home. Two World War II heroes come home from the Pacific to Texas.
I’ve written a crime novel about the corrosive effects of patronage and the rise and fall of a powerful politician and his dysfunctional family, Forgive Us Our Trespasses.
I’ve written about what happens to a football coach when he loses everything, Crazy of Natural Causes. It’s a fable of life’s absurdity.
I’ve written a tale of the Sixties in the South, centered on school integration and a high school football team, The Intangibles.
I’ve written a rollicking yarn about the feds trying to track down and manipulate a national hero who just happens to be a pot-smoking songwriter, The Audacity of Dope.
I’ve written a collection of 11 short stories, all derived from songs I wrote, Longer Songs.
Follow me on Twitter @montedutton, @hmdutton (about writing), and/or @wastedpilgrim (more opinionated and irreverent). I’m on Facebook (Monte.Dutton), Instagram (TUG50), and Google-Plus (MonteDuttonWriter).