Marolt: Flies in the fecal matter
This is my conciliatory column humbly accepting the will of the voters of the United States of America and Donald Trump as its duly elected 45th president. So, if you are the sensitive type, I urge you to read no further.
The surprising election result harkens back to the day when a particular saying was popular amongst middle school boys I knew — “Eat shit. All the flies can’t be wrong.” Although perplexing to me, I admit that all the people who selected and appointed Donald Trump to be, perhaps, the most powerful person in the world are not all wrong. That’s a concession on my part, because I don’t actually know what they are right about.
There is, however, some consolation in thinking about flies and feces. Perhaps flies are not eating shit because it is shit. Maybe they eat it in spite of it being shit. Mixed in with the stench and intestinal poison, are particles of something that flies need. They pick through the crap because it is the only place the good stuff exists. There is simply no choice.
I have to believe Trump didn’t get elected for the shit he said. I don’t believe half this great country is behind bigotry against Mexicans and African Americans or intolerance of the Muslim exercise of faith. I don’t believe every other person on the street feels that women are simply sexual objects and, thus, unequal to men. I can’t imagine most people in this country are not willing to lend a hand to the poor and suffering of the world, many of whom are fleeing tyranny, pain and premature death in their homelands. I don’t believe the majority accepts that making fun of handicapped people is an expression of humor. I don’t believe anyone thinks it’s fair to insist that the results of an election in the greatest democracy in history are rigged before the election even takes place, when your chances of winning don’t look good and then change your mind and call it a mandate of The People when you barely do win. For crying out loud, it’s still a crime to grab a woman by the pussy against her will, even if you are a celebrity!
There has to be more to Trump’s victory than the validation of his words and actions. It has to be something that is perceived by the masses as really great, greater than all the rest of Trump’s spiel is sickening when taken at face value. That said, the skeptic in me screams there is nothing redeemable in this search.
In college, my baseball coach gave unorthodox advice about breaking slumps. He professed that when things are going badly, you have to do something differently. Something. Anything. It didn’t matter what. His simple reasoning for any kind of change whatsoever was that, the worse things are, the less you have to lose, so why not?
His favorite suggestion was to take pregame batting practice from the other side of the plate. He felt that, unless you were the rare natural switch-hitter, you don’t have any mechanics or swing fundamentals to worry about on your weak side of the plate, so your brain focuses 100 percent on seeing and hitting the ball instead of confusing your body about what it is supposed to do as a 90 miles per hour fast ball bears down on you.
My personality is the type that would endure a four-year slump rather than try something unconventional. I liked my swing. I’d honed it for years. I felt all I needed was a little more tweaking, a little more of the same old with the batting tee. I’d always done it that way. And I was too proud to look like a jackass during pre-game warm-ups.
And this brings me to my reconciliation with half the United States that voted for Donald Trump: You guys are the ones who would have taken my coach’s advice. You switched your hands, said “to hell with tweaking the mechanics,” risked looking foolish and jumped to the other side of the plate to take a few rips at the ball. Good for you!
What’s really important to remember now that we are heading into the game is that we are teammates. Even though I don’t embrace your method of breaking a slump, I do respect that you did it hoping to make us better. I hope you will support the other half of the team that believes in doing something else. If we keep our eyes on the ball, maybe none of us has to eat a crap sandwich.
Roger Marolt is embarrassed to have Donald Trump as our president, but is still proud to be an American. Email email@example.com.
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