Listen, I am a 95-year-old white lesbian and I’m so sick of the white straight patriarchy I could spit. OK, I’m not 95 but what I’ve seen in the first four weeks — it’s only four? — of the Trump “administration” makes me feel like I’m 95. I’m tired.
He has ruined my sleep. All night long red banners screaming Waking News chyron through my REMless sleep. I wake at 3a.m. If I try to meditate, I end up fantasizing what I’d like to do to Betsy DeVos with a ruler. If I try to count sheep jumping over a fence, they turn into refugees trying to jump a wall. Hissing, “Thinking,” at my racing mind doesn’t shush it back to sleep. My spiritual practice is a bust. Who tells NPR’s Krista Tippett from “On Being” to shut the fuck up?
Oh, I can out-narciss Trump any day, anywhere, any time.
Trump is all about me. I was supposed to be retiring a bit by now, probably at some dudette ranch out in the Southwest, scruffed cowgal boots up on the porch rail, reading cowgirl poetry after a day of mud wraps and authentic sweat lodges. Sipping a cool one. But no. I have two full-time jobs now. Writing jokes about this flaccid, flaxen-haired, dead-serious slab of a bad joke, so-called president or going to protest rallies about him.
And since we’re all a bit overtired and out in extreme weather marching and screaming for hours at a time, in the Northeast everyone either is getting or getting over a cold. No one is going on a winter week away. This year V is for Victory not Vieques.
So far every month is the cruelest month. During Black History Month – the shortest month of the year, but another time – Alabama’s senator, Jefferson Beauregard Sessions, was sworn in as Confederate General of the Justice Department.
During his confirmation hearings, that sanctimonious blowfish, Mitch ‘the Mansplainer’ McConnell, gaveled down Sen. Elizabeth Warren for reading a letter from that notorious glory-grabber, Coretta Scott King, about Sessions’ early racism. McConnell puffed that Warren was impugning a fellow senator and red-carded her with a Rule 19 violation. He dead-panned, “She was warned. She was given an explanation. Nevertheless, she persisted.” That was on a T-shirt in 20 minutes.
If that’s how they celebrate Black History Month, no telling what they’ve got cooked up for Women’s History Month. More pussy-grabbing? Some witch-burning? Daughter-boarding? For these guys, if they’re not taming the shrew, they’re shaming the true.
And if we make it to June, it will be called June. Not Gay Pride Month. No more lighting the White House in rainbow colors for these cranky crackers. That must have made Mike Pence blow his Hoosier dome.
Now he and his Pencer division of blitzkreiging Christo-Facists is just itching to get his shock-and-awe Christaria Law signed sealed and delivered. When Vice President White Head says “religious freedom” the ‘Christian,’ not Muslim is understood. The chaos of President Mayhem’s early days and our hipster allies slash protectors, Jared and Ivanka, have slowed the putsch for the First Amendment Defense Act. The only wall I want to see built is the one between church and state.
But no need to wait for June, for FADA and its FATWAs to fall.
The time is now. We are everywhere. In every stalled wave of refugees, with every woman closed out of a Planned Parenthood clinic, with immigrants in detention. With murdered youth, bullied children, defunded artists, disrespected teachers. With the sickened poor, insecure seniors, hounded journalists – LGBT people are with all of that.
Hell hath no fury like a woman warned.
Kate Clinton is a longtime humorist. She writes regularly for the Blade.