A TRIAL SEPARATION

I want a trial separation from Trump.   

More specifically, the kind of trial that I want is a humiliating and punishing impeachment divorce.

I’m tired of being the Melania of this marriage and I want out.  

Like any other woman who has closed their eyes and held their breath while they were with him, Stormy Daniels style, I’ve had it with acrobatically bending over backward to please him.

The entire #metoo movement was born out of his treatment of us.   We take down Weinstein, Spacey et al because on one level we are taking Trump d. own too.  The big joke is he’s impotent and we are too.

And yet we keep getting fucked, over and over and over and over again.

The very fact that Trump extolls the virtues of murderous thugs like Putin and Un,  the real animals of the planet, who do God knows what to women, is proof positive that Trump should star in the new Elton John musical, Bully Idiot.

Well are a country of manhandled wives whose limited language at the moment has been reduced to the phrase “I Don’t Care. Do U?,” which is no doubt what Trump says repeatedly behind our backs.

The illness that has got us here is affluenza-entitlementia.  

By doing nothing but complaining or spewing our Red Hen anger, we are unilaterally endorsing Trump’s each and every action, while his other thug buddies, the stellar members of the Republican Medicare, Tariff, Immigration and Social Security Rape Society of America, actively try to put Trump’s accuser, the last American Boy Scout/hero, Bob Mueller, on trial for manufactured crimes.  

Any kind of maneuver on their part is nothing more than the employment of weapons of mass distraction, so, once again, behind our backs, they can do whatever the hell they want, which is what I call the new patriotism.

Today Benedict Arnold would have eggs named for him at the International House of Pandering Politicians.

We are just a bunch of co-dependent spouses who just keep taking it, day after day after day, while we allow that clueless, untalented, visionless, bankrupting trust fund brat, to do and say whatever the hell he wants, no matter how humiliating or crushing it is to us and to the rest of the planet.

President Gary Abusey rules the roost and we call that marriage.

Trump was never in the construction business.  He was and will always be in the destruction business where staggering loss is the ultimate write off.

Trump’s entire life has been marked by a deep level of self-loathing, the kind that all his rabid (literally) followers embrace and mistake for power and charisma.  TV screens tend to magnify and distort the ability of anyone who appears on them. American thinks it’s a flung open window, when in fact all it is an a-not-much-funhouse mirror.

When you feel utterly hopeless and full of despair and spend most of your government assistance on booze, cigarettes and Costco flat screen TVs, as you try to win the lottery, the Publisher’s Clearinghouse prize or turn to prayer to ask for your next military grade murder child killing gun machine or the reopening of coal mines and keep losing, just like us, you get progressively worn down.

I totally get why his rally quality illiterate lemmings are willing to jump off the cliff for him.  Everyone loves a parade and marching feels a whole lot better than lying in the middle of the road waiting for the next truck to mow you down.  It makes you feel strangely euphoric because, even though you are about to do crippling damage to yourself, still, it feels like you are taking active control of your life by making a choice.  I’m sure that’s exactly how the next death by suicide celebrity will feel as well.

Let it be clear: I don’t blindly hate Stupid America.  I’m just tired of them storming the palace and swilling the good wine, which they mistake ransacking for change.

The internet, which I am also married to (as in “Do you take this PC to be your lawful wedded wi-if?) is largely to blame for our national ennui and complacency.  Sadly, Apple is Jobs one.

When you spend hours dominating the universe of your keyboard, like an iOuija game board, the grand illusion is that you are being actively engaged and, by association, powerful, when, in fact, just like the subliminal world of Network TV and radio, you are being diddled by Advertisers 24/7.  Take away all the car, ED and Geico commercials and all you would have left is two or three hours of mindless programs where we dance like cooperative marionettes, like the get-up and boogie studio audience of the Ellen DeGeneres show.

The truth is we are all owned and operated by Exxon, Mobile AT&T, Verizon and Comcast and the Koch Brothers.

It takes the sudden and unimaginable collapse of a pair of giants heavily populated twin towers or the Bonnie and the Clyde-like assassination of six-year-olds at Sandy Hook to create the kind of ripple effect that sends us reeling to the almost edge of change.   

For a few hours anyway.  

As President Obama learned, backward is still the new forwards of our motherland, which is nothing more than the average, American semi-adults idealization of a less than stellar childhood.  

The only way that most Americans can cope with unbearable tragedy is by turning to God or Sean Hannity whose often preposterous misbegotten National Inquirer/Alex Jones/Mel Gibson quality blame theories are steeped in manufactured on the spot fantasy and blithely distributed like Scientology brochures on Hollywood Boulevard.

Unfortunately, we are wired for optimism which is why we buy into immediate nonsense and why we don’t kill ourselves every time our Dyson Vacuum Sticks get clogged up and stop sucking up carpet dirt on demand.  Where does that string that ties up the roller come from??

We Americans are a get on with it society.   

We do not like to linger in negative feelings.  Negative feelings are for sissies.

All we require to move on with our lives is the requisite moment of silence which magically in the moment, frees us from the grips of being temporarily bummed out.

Our national credo is:  We get knocked down and get up again, Chumbawamba/Rocky Balboa-style.  We never meet a canvas that we like.

A few hours spent with Thor, Black Panther or Spider-Man gives us just the right amount of get up and go, to create the illusion, that by simply watching a bunch of flickering moving images on an IMAX or 3-D screen, life has become not only a whole lot better but more fair and just.

So, for now, even though our closest friends implore us to leave him, we will continue to take it because we’re either beaten down or can’t see any alternative.

Voting only comes around every few years and even then MOST of us will not be engaged by them. 

Ennui The People.

And so we will hibernate and pamper ourselves and repeatedly push that Amazon buy-now click button which is far more addictive than any Opioid product on the market.

With the full consent of the Supreme Being Court, we will continue to not only refuse to sell wedding confections to same-sex loving couples but sadly, our knee-jerk response will be just like Trump’s:  

Let Them Eat Cake.