Is there a master plan?

Dear President Trump,

I haven’t watched any TV in probably 12 years but I think maybe I need to find a show or ten to binge watch so I have something to distract myself with and to limit the time I spend obsessively reading the news online since it is such a downer day in and day out. It’s really getting to me. I feel so tired and worn down from all the crap flying every which way all the damn time and how you all are getting away with such destructive, self-serving, nihilistic erosions of practically everything. It’s truly mindboggling. Is there a master plan etched on elephant skin sitting in a booby-trapped vault somewhere that you all wear special costumes and drink blood before you go in to consult it for your next steps? Does said plan come complete with suggested lies to try and pass off to the public to mollify enough of us that we don’t rise up and tear your throats out? I don’t get it. What is happening? How can you all look at the various cameras that are always pointing at you and without blinking or cackling madly tell us that the tax legislation you are jonsing for is to help the middle class and that the corporate windfalls will really benefit workers? Seriously, how do you all do it? Are you drugged? Have you all been replaced with pre-programmed Stepford Politicians who just do the Koch brothers’ and the Mercers’ bidding? It’s like a very (very) badly scripted reality TV show where whoever can blow the most smoke up America’s ass and cause the most damage wins.

All day today as I contemplated my letter to you I kept circling the idea of gratitude and how, even though it is cliche to focus on it around Thanksgiving time, it would probably do me good to put some serious attention there as an antidote to all of the above. Obviously I’ve failed to take my own advice and just indulged in a classic rant. Maybe tomorrow I’ll consider the sincere gratitude angle again. We’ll see.

I suppose I should be grateful I’m safe to write you these things.
I suppose I should be grateful I still have moments of distracted happiness.
I suppose I should be grateful you haven’t impacted my health negatively.
I suppose I should be grateful you haven’t blown us all up (yet).

Tracy Simpson

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