I’m absolutely not above gloating about all this and you all know what I’m talking about. I consider myself covered under “the Pursuit of Happiness” clause in our Declaration of Independence. It’s just not where I am right now. Sure, a great exhale while still reserving some breath for the next couple months during which time we’ll still have a narcissistic tyrant in the White House, who (from a snowflake point of view) has been, and still is, humiliating himself in front of the entire world.
I understand what President Elect Joe Biden meant about the need for all of us to pull together as a country. For the right and the left to work together. To end the harsh rhetoric and he encouraged us who supported him to reach out to the Trump fans to make sure they know we hear them. In fact, that was a big part of Biden’s speech. Oh, we heard them all right. They’re the crowd whose unofficial motto was “beep’ your feelings”. Now we’re supposed to help them process their feelings but is there anybody out there telling Trump supporters to reach out to Biden supporters. To even attempt to understand why we voted the way we did. No, nothing has changed in that area. In fact, the right is so enraged that Biden won the election, they hate us worse than ever.
As I write this, I can count on one hand the number of Republican members of Congress that have congratulated President Elect Joe Biden on his victory. Trump has not – he is still rage tweeting about voter fraud but with no evidence. Many in the Republican party are echoing his claims, not that they believe him, but because they’re afraid of him. They pretend to agree with him due to their abject cowardice.
As far as poetry goes, it doesn’t get any better than the press conference held by Trump’s legal defense team led by the addled, vampire look-alike, Rudy Giuliani – hastily put together November 7 right after the race was called for Biden. They were spewing vague gibberish about nonexistent voter fraud. Someone from the campaign was supposed to book the upscale Four Seasons Hotel for the press conference. We don’t know what exactly happened, but instead it was held on a barren stretch of asphalt in Philadelphia between the Fantasy Island Adult bookstore and Delaware Valley Cremation.
The campaign that began with Trump descending an escalator in Trump Tower ranting about Mexican rapists ended in a parking lot sandwiched between a porn shop and a crematorium. A storybook ending.
Steven Seymour is a Vietnam veteran who lives in Grimes County. The opinions expressed by the author do not necessarily reflect the opinions and viewpoints of The Examiner.