Two weeks ago my people lost their collective marbles and voted an ignorant, bullying racist to be the next president of the United States. Yikes! That was certainly a black Tuesday in American history; since we learned of this absolute catastrophe in the early hours of Wednesday morning, I think the day qualifies as being even more back: Funereal Wednesday, the day the American Dream died-and became as dead as the dodo.
I received some bad news of my own-and that is why I haven't posted for the past two weeks. I've been that freaked out-plus, I had to get into warrior mode and push to get things done. But more about that later.
Trump? Seriously?? What were my people thinking? Were they thinking? And with what? I've lived in a country that is filled with the braindead, inbred, obnoxious, rude-and just simply lucky to be alive and not be speaking German as a first language. How so many of these imbeciles got past puberty is a mystery I will probably never solve. And now my own people vote for Trump: a racist, fascist, misogynistic, xenophobic, homophobic, anti-Muslim, bullying, pathologically lying, scum sucking reptile. And he's very likely to be a rapist and a pedophile, too. Did I miss anything-besides the factthat he is an evil bastard?
Trump led the lowest, dirtiest political campaign in the history of politics-he has no experience and no scruples (just like a politician), he comes across as a redneck ignoramus, and I don't care how much money he has, he is the worst president we will ever have the misfortune to elect-even worse than Bush, and I never thought that I would say that. He and Malaria stood up when the ghastly announcement came, and they were dripping with insincerity and hypocrisy. And Malaria-well, whether you liked Obama or not, you must admit that Michelle actually did things, learned things, wasn't a plastic first lady. But Malaria? She opened her mouth and you could hear that she is too dimwitted to even be considered a halfwit. She thinks Douchebag Donald is a "wonderful man"-sure, Malaria, he's wonderful. That's what they said about Crippen. And Stalin. And Hitler.
Yesterday I gave thanks for a lot of things-and one of them is the fact that, if the Democrats get their act together, we only have to suffer Trump and his merry band of bigots for four years. Hopefully the damage can be repaired by the next - qualified- president. This one is a total a**hole.
And, by the way, this monster has the nuclear codes. If that doesn't scare the crap out of you, let me repeat it: this degenerate monster has the nuclear codes.
What can possibly go wrong??????
I said I got bad news, and I received it on-Black Tuesday. The MRI results showed the possibility of metastasis in the lumbar spine. I knew that cancer could come back-but I didn't expect it to recur so quickly. So I was more depressed about the possibility that I have cancer than I was about my own people electing a cancer. Eeesh!!
My oncologist ordered an urgent bone scan to really check if there was a recurrence. And the imaging people said that it would be a few weeks before I could have the scan. And this is where it helps to be a warrior. I started making phone calls, and I refused to take no for an answer. I finally was able to reach the cancer nurse, who got back to me the next day and told me that she'd arranged for me to have the bone scan the following Monday morning (last Monday). That was a few hours of being irradiate-and the scanner was moved to within an inch of my nose (no exaggeration: I was afraid the tech would sneeze, or lose concentration, and I would be completely flattened). I then had to wait another week to see Mr. T and get the verdict. Meanwhile, I had other hospital appointments-every single bloody day!- so I was a bit busy. And knackered. And afraid-very, very afraid.
I got the news just in time for Thanksgiving: there is a lot of arthritis (but everyone over the age of 30 has arthritis somewhere-unless they never get out of bed), but no sign of malignancy. Mr. T. is ordering another scan, a very long one, and that will take place next week. This one will show if anything resembling cancer is brewing anywhere-so it's worth the extra radiation just to be certain that there is no cancer anywhere. I'll be so radioactive that nobody should stand anywhere near me if they ever want to have children.
I cried on the way back, I was that relieved. I didn't realize that the whole cancer experience was one from which I never really recovered. The prospect of a reprise sent me into a tailspin. So when I got back, I went online and I ordered a toaster.
A what? I hear you ask? A toaster? Well, I got fed up with toasting things under the grill-which I've done for years-and since I figure I'm not dying any time soon, I bought a toaster-a red one, in case you're interested. And yesterday I stuffed myself with turkey and all the trimmings, and had a glass of wine to celebrate the fact that I'm not dead.
I have a great idea (and when I called my friend in New York to wish her a Happy Thanksgiving, I mentioned it.). Everyone who was intelligent enough NOT to vote for the reptile should have a t-shirt printed, and millions of people should march on Washingto on January 20th to protest against the new fascist president. And what should the t-shirt say? I like statement t-shirts, by the way. So it should read: "Where is Lee Harvey Oswald now that we really need him?"
(the rest of you can just Google it).
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