Carroll: I’m with my mom
You’d think I’m well past the age where my mom could put the fear of God in me. You’d think. Then she called a few hours before the first presidential debate last week and asked if I planned on watching.
“Of course,” I said.
“What time is it on there?” she asked.
“I’m not sure.”
“WHAT?” I held the phone away from my ear, cringing as I expected she was about to tell me I was grounded or had lost my TV privileges. “How do you not know? Isn’t it all anyone’s talking about? What is happening there? I thought Hillary had Colorado locked up, and now it’s turning purple. What are you doing to stop this?”
How and when my mom decided the outcome of the presidential election rests on my shoulders remains unclear, although surely it has something to do with my move to a now-swing state 13 years ago. Regardless, if my mom is right, getting Hillary Clinton into office may well be on me, which is fine since the election should be a no-brainer.
As you’d expect from someone who’s dedicated 40 years of her life to public service, Clinton’s record isn’t spotless, although the list of her missteps isn’t even a blip compared to the catalog of her feats. She is inarguably, categorically and unquestionably the best person for the job, and not just because Donald Trump is the other choice (but that, too).
There are people like Clinton who simply get it, just as there are people such as Ted Cruz who don’t. Then there’s Trump, who thinks he gets it but doesn’t. His type is frequently the most treacherous because they assume they’re in the know when, in fact, they have no idea. Thankfully, most everyone else sees what Trump doesn’t: He’s the most high-profile, proudest and loudest racist, sexist, classist, homophobic, xenophobic, anti-Semitic, hateful, unintelligent and least-deserving millionaire to ever trip into the limelight for such a prolonged period of time (unless you count his buddies Sean Hannity and David Duke).
It doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to trace the roots of Trump’s reputation as a great businessman back to Trump. His entire strategy seems to be telling people via a ridiculously limited vocabulary how terrific he is until enough people believe him and then prove him right by buying infomercial-quality steaks, cheaply manufactured ties and unremarkable bottled water with his name slapped on the labels. Somewhere a naked emperor is tipping his nonexistent hat to Trump.
Many of the people who think they stand to gain the most under a Trump presidency are actually the ones with the most to lose if he wins. It’s as if they believe the money in Trump’s bank account will spread to theirs by osmosis. It’s as if they hear him say he doesn’t pay taxes so they’ll also get a pass on their IRS bills, too, if he moves into the White House. It’s as if he cheated on his wives and then moved on to younger, hotter wives so his supporters assume they’ll get to marry Gisele Bundchen (or Tom Brady) by Inauguration Day. If Trump can stiff the little guys whose work he contracted, used and then later deemed subpar, then other little guys will likewise have carte blanche to walk out on the check if he’s elected, right? Right? As it turns out, Trump’s most impressive accomplishment — ever — seems to be tricking millions of people into believing a pumpkin-spice latte is the right choice to be the next face of our nation.
The other Trump supporters, though, the ones seemingly astute enough to smell the stench of his fraud like a Britney Spears perfume on the $1 clearance table, are the more puzzling ones. You have to figure none of them could be people of color, gay, Jewish, women or folks who know or have any women in their lives, which is how they can vote for him while still clinging to an iota of their conscience. Yet plenty of Trump supporters are, indeed, intelligent and people of color, gay, Jewish, and women, married to women, sons of women, daughters of women, fathers of daughters, mothers of daughters, brothers of sisters, sisters, or human beings who believe all human beings deserve to be treated as well as heterosexual, white, male human beings — in which case, their only possible choice for president is Hillary Clinton.
The other choice is certain death. For real. Because my mom will murder you with her eyes. Or she’ll eviscerate you over the phone. As Trump says: Trust me. Vote for Clinton or fear the wrath of my mom, because it’s real, and it’s spectacular.
More at MeredithCarroll.com.
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I find myself ruefully conceding that I may well have joined this country’s 66,000-plus new daily COVID-19 victims last weekend.