Trump Days : Mourning

I spent election night drinking my shock away and the next few days mourning the fatal illness that has gripped our democratic republic. And now, I believe electing the worse possible candidate for America’s highest office may have been the right choice. Not because I think his campaign was some half-brain scheme at thoroughly trolling us or because he’s easing off some of his promises (probably an attempt at seeming legitimate until he can finally put his feet on the Oval Office desk). I’ve finally been so shaken up that I’m willing to work without pay, stay up late, and build a community capable of making an entirely new state. When a rapey misogynist, tax-dodging, white supremacist, who isn’t even capable of managing a Twitter account is elected to lead our nation, the system has utterly failed. And if you’re holding out for impeachment, I have bad news. Then you have to deal with Mike—you’ll have a baby if it literally fucking kills you—Pence. We must work together, shed our lofty individualism and organize to withstand the disaster that waits. We have to reach out to Trump’s supporters. The further away we push them from the world we’re building, the closer they are to the very thing we’re fighting.

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