How to Survive the Inauguration without a Rant – Fail

I hate politics. To my bones. I hate hatred and bigotry more. Today was a difficult day.

So how did I cope from my perch in the sprawling DC suburbs?

I kept the TV off.

I slept in.

I read the paper and did the puzzles. (Got the Sudoku and the crossword.)

Ate too much.

Took a long nap with an eye mask and a ear plugs.

Rode Big Nellie in the basement while reading a book about electronic stock trading. (We’re havin’ fun now!)

Woke up and checked social media for interesting things. Saw a neo-nazi get cold cocked by an anarchist. Read tweets mocking the 10 year old son of Trump. (Pro tip: leave the kid alone. I don’t care what anybody said about the Carter, Bush, Clinton or Obama kids. Just leave him alone.)

Saw pictures of #bikedc’s Nelle, Michelle, and Rachel being awesome in DC. One was protesting. One held her nose as she took her mom to the inauguration. One went to work downtown. If you are in despair about the future, you should meet them. It’s going to be okay.

I thought about posting a long political rant and thought better of it. I thought it was very creepy that the Mall was so empty today and the stands along the inaugural route were too. I felt anger at the idiots who were rioting downtown. (Another pro tip: the small business people whose property you damaged are just trying to get by. They don’t need this crap.) There are big political disagreements in this country. That’s okay. That’s democracy. My objections to Trump aren’t political; they are personal. He lost me at mocking the disabled reporter. I am a father of a daughter who shook Hillary Clinton’s hand at her high school graduation.  She, like so many young women I know, was shattered by Trump’s election just as I, an eight-year-old Irish American altar boy, was at JFK’s assassination. Whatever Trump accomplishes, the ends do not justify the means. We are all better than this. Suffice it to say, a much better future will be delivered by my daughter, by the Nelles, Michelles, and Rachels and hoards of other motivated women who will come of age and say “Never again.”

So, I guess I ranted. My bad.