No wonder President Trump refuses to release his income tax returns, because he has most assuredly not been able to quantify this particular benefit: he lives, rent-free, in the heads of so very many liberals!
My enthusiasm for the Christmas season was always weak. Amid the ugliness of Trump’s America, it’s disappeared
by Amanda Marcotte | November 29, 2019 | 5:00 UTC
It wasn’t a conscious decision, but it’s time for me to admit it: I’ve mostly given up on Christmas.
It was never a holiday of great importance to me. I’ve never put up a Christmas tree, for instance, though I have often indulged in some tinsel and lights to mark the holiday. But for most of my adult life, Christmas still had some meaning, and I’ve made an effort to mark the day as somehow special. I made pancakes for breakfast. My partner and I opened gifts. We tried to make something out of it.
But that has dissipated in the past couple of years. Even putting forward a minimal effort to mark the day as anything but a boring 24 hours that isn’t even attached to a three-day weekend feels too hard.
The gross fact of the matter is that whatever enthusiasm I once felt for Christmas has dissipated entirely in the age of Donald Trump. He ruins everything he touches, and Christmas, for me, is no exception.
I’m an atheist, and have been at least my whole adult life. So the concept of Christmas as a religious holiday has never had any hold on me. But for believers and non-believers alike in this country, it’s always been more of a secular holiday, at least in the United States. It’s about celebrating family togetherness and a larger sense of the nation coming together in the spirit of joy and generosity.
Miss Marcotte and her ‘partner,’ Marc Faletti, had long ago given up on visiting their families back in the Lone Star State, having made the trip only once since they moved to Brooklyn, something like seven or nine or ten years ago, and then, earlier this year, to foul, fetid, fuming, foggy, filthy Philadelphia. It was just too difficult, she said, getting from civilization — the “east coast,” in her exact words — to “rural Texas.” She is trying to blame it on President Trump, of course, but eschewing her family began long before that.
For me, it’s personal. My family is mostly a bunch of Trump voters, sucked up into a vortex of propaganda and lies, unable even to admit basic facts about the world that run contrary to what their tribal politics dictate. That sort of thing is stressful on a normal day, but makes a mockery of the idea of familial love and harmony.
Is that really it? Is that what the holidays have been reduced to amongst the left? I noted, on Thanksgiving Day:
we had our Thanksgiving dinner on Wednesday, because my wife, a registered nurse, has to work Thanksgiving day; hospitals don’t close for the holidays. One of my sisters despises President Trump, and wants him impeached, while the other is a very strong Trump supporter. Guess what? We all managed to find things other than politics to discuss! There were nine of us there, and I don’t think that any of the words which would have triggered The Babylon Bee’s ejection seat were uttered. We all stuffed ourselves on turkey, stuffing, smashed potatoes and gravy, some sort of nasty casserole that my sister ruined by putting cheese in it, cranberry sauce, and pumpkin, apple and pecan pies. My nephew Nathan and I pigged out on the deviled eggs. The biggest potential bone of contention is Nathan’s love of deviled eggs and the fact that his girlfriend is allergic to eggs!
My wife and I disagree on politics, and she has been dutifully canceling out my vote for the past 40 years, six months and nine days, yet we still love each other and live together.
But former Governor Martin O’Malley (D-MD)? He tried to start a fight with acting deputy Secretary of the Department of Homeland Security Ken Cuccinelli III, at an event wholly unrelated to politics, because he’s an [insert slang term for the rectum here].
Miss Marcotte is 42 years old now. I do not know how old her mother is, but in her sixties would be a reasonable guess. Is Miss Marcotte really going to let political differences keep her from seeing her mother, who might not have that many more years on this earth? Does Donald Trump really live so deeply in Miss Marcotte’s head that he has ruined all of life for her?
The idea that maybe, just maybe, her family and she could simply not talk about politics apparently didn’t occur to her. But, if talking about politics was on her agenda, we already have her admission that she is a coward when it comes to defending her positions,¹ in her explanation as to why she declined to appear as a liberal foil on Tucker Carlson’s show:
It is tempting, of course, to believe that I’m savvy enough to somehow break through all this cultural baggage and communicate my message effectively to Fox viewers. But I’m not actually dumb, no matter how much conservative pundits portray me that way. I know that I’m no match for the Fox News machine — and anyone who thinks they are is deluded.
TV is a visual medium and Fox openly encourages its viewers to make snap judgments about the liberal guests before they’ve even had a chance to open their mouths. Even if I did cover up my tattoos and wear conservative makeup, I would read, onscreen, more as “Brooklyn hipster” than as the beauty queen-turned-housewife that is the Fox News ideal.² Even if I was an unparalleled genius at verbal communication, my message has no way of cracking through that hardened shell of hate built up against women who look and act like me.
All of which means the only purpose that could be served by my appearance on Carlson’s show was to become a conduit for a truly repulsive mission, that being the mainstreaming of white nationalist politics with the message, “The best way to put this bitch in her place is to uncritically accept everything Trump says.”
Miss Marcotte is very good at preaching to the choir, to those who already agree with her, but really, this is just sad. President Trump is not going to show up at her mother’s house for Christmas, nor at Mr Faletti’s and her apartment in South Philly. The only way Mr Trump ruins Christmas for Miss Marcotte and her POSSLQ is if she can’t get him out of her head, and that, she has admitted, she just cannot do.
¹ – Miss Marcotte also blocks commenters on Twitter with whom she disagrees, because while she is a successful writer, she does not appear to be a good debater. She has blocked me, among many others, even though I’m basically a nobody.
² – Miss Marcotte is no “beauty queen,” but she certainly isn’t ugly. But really, at then just two months before her fortieth birthday, could she really pull off “Brooklyn hipster”? 🙂
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