Tag Archives: Trump

Lyft Strangers

Lyft, Uber, Trump, and how they all conspired to ruin my boots

“Why aren’t you smiling?” my Lyft driver asked me.

“Because you’re ugly,” I said.

No, I didn’t really say that. That’s what my friend suggested I respond, though.

Really, I wasn’t smiling because he had made me walk two blocks in the rain, after I had input my exact address into the app. I was wearing new boots. Then he made me listen to Bollywood music and asked if I liked it.

I wish I could still use Uber. It wasn’t better, exactly, but the drivers were a little less chatty IMO. I like my space. (If you don’t know why I’m boycotting Uber, read this.)

My trip to the West Coast yielded some really fruitful encounters with Lyft drivers, including a Hispanic (relevant to the story) man who began the ride by denouncing Trump. I was on board, duh, until he suggested that Hispanic people don’t deserve what our fearless leader is doling out, but maybe Muslim people do. That’s where he lost me. By the time he was saying he couldn’t wait for Trump’s impeachment so we could have Pence, I was all the way on the other side of the map.

Yeah, I can’t wait for the giant party that will be Mike Pence’s reign.

Also, how about Bill O’Reilly? Just while we’re loosely connected to the topic of sexual harassment. My real question is why are we surprised? I was under the impression we knew he had been doing this for years. Maybe I was just confusing him with Rush Limbaugh. All these Republican propagandists are the same to me.

2017: new year, new president

I have some bad news for you. There will be some celebrity deaths this year.

2016 was a bad year. The United States elected an orange reality star who is packing his cabinet with a new flavor of bigot each week as its president. (I know. I’m still in denial, too.) I’m sure you’ve been through some things this year, too. I know Hillary Clinton (#stillwithher), that treasure of a fine woman (in the words of my drunk brother on election night, “my queen”), has probably had it the roughest. (Putin, on the other hand, seems to have had a grand year.) Personally, I’ve been through some things, too. My grandfather, who was not a celebrity, died, and my best work friend, who is also not a celebrity, moved across the country. I’m ready for a new year.

So let’s ignore the fact that we’re kicking off 2017 by actually making this monster our president (also, fun fact: January 20th is my terrible ex boyfriend’s birthday) and instead think about the good things that will happen this year. Like The Bachelor! It premieres tomorrow, and the contestant list is packed with dolphin-lovers and Little Mermaid fans. The latter makes sense (Ariel is the best Disney princess. Don’t even talk to me if you disagree.), while the former is a bit perplexing–did I miss the dolphin memo? This is like bubble dresses all over again.

Also, I’ve set up some brand-new resolutions.

  1. Send daily thoughts of love and support to Ruth Bader Ginsberg.
  2. Be more tolerant of people who don’t watch The Bachelor and maybe don’t want to to hear my play-by-play recaps; they know not what their lives are lacking.
  3. Commit to regular meals, instead grazing out of containers throughout the day (last year’s resolution broke down a bit)
  4. Limit my crying about how this is the last full year of my 20s (yeah, I discovered that harsh reality) to one 20-minute session once a month

Happy 2017! It will only be the age of Trump if we let it.

Trump adds anti-semite to his merry band of bigots

I was trying not to be fatalistic. Okay, I wasn’t trying super hard. But by Friday I had calmed down a touch and was trying to channel my fear and grief into productivity. I watched Hillary Clinton accept what happened and encourage us to do the same. I watched Barack Obama remind us to stay strong and give our new president-elect a chance. As usual, his words hugged me like a warm sweater, and I, too, was almost ready to give him a chance. (I recognize that the fact that I am unable to type his name here detracts from my claim of full acceptance a touch.) With newfound hope (okay, not exactly hope, more like resignation) I posted this heartwarming message on Facebook:

After watching Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama handle themselves with the grace and dignity we’ve come to expect from them, I’m feeling at least a modicum of the hope that led me to support them in the first place. Neither of them will be our president come January 20, but we can still count on them to lead us by example. And for that I’m grateful.

Then I set up recurring donations to Planned Parenthood and the ACLU.

So I was pretty proud of how maturely I was handling all this. So my candidate didn’t win. So we’d have, at the very best, a loose canon with no political experience in office for the next four years. Four years will fly by! Actually, no, it won’t, because that takes me to 32.

Then Trump decided to drive a giant tractor through my newfound peace.

This week, charming anti-semite/wife-beater Stephen Bannon entered our lives. Doesn’t he sound mild, like yogurt? His name rhymes with Dannon; that’s why I thought of that. He will be Trump’s chief strategist and senior adviser, while Reince “This is my name and I’m sticking to it” Priebus will be his chief of staff. I’m going to set aside my dislike of Priebus and his name for a second, because compared to Lord Bannon, he is like a precious downy baby duckling.

During his reign at Breitbart, which is basically a website full of Trump adoration porn (check it out–you’ll see what I mean), the “news” site spewed some truly memorable quotes:

“Bill Kristol: Republican Spoiler, Renegade Jew”

“Political Correctness Protects Muslim Rape Culture”

“Birth Control Makes Women Unattractive and Crazy”

There are some that are far more hateful, but I just can’t retype them.

There is also a picture of Planned Parenthood founder Margaret Sanger doctored with a Hitler mustache. Wow, those guys at Breitbart really know their way around Photoshop.

So yeah. He seems like a stand-up fellow. By the way, Bannon is a father. He has daughters.

Additionally, Bannon’s ex-wife accused him of physical abuse, including grabbing her by the neck and pulling her into a car. I say “accused” because the case was dismissed, but I’m ready to take sides in this one.

I can’t wait to see whom Trump selects next for his really stellar administration. I’m seeing David Duke as Secretary of State. Just as long as he stores his email properly. Apparently that’s the number one priority in that position.

Let’s blame the liberal bubble

Yesterday, I stood in line at my polling place filling out my ballot. I didn’t wait for a private booth. I didn’t care who saw it. I live in Brooklyn. As I walked to work, I actually thought that maybe someday I would have a daughter, and I would tell her how I voted for the first female president.

Today, there was silence on the subway. One woman grasped a poll, a single tear running down her cheek. My office was half-empty, shrouded in an eery stillness.

I keep saying, “I can’t believe it.” And people keep telling me, “We live in a bubble. That’s why this happened.”

I don’t accept that. No, I don’t live in racistland. But the people who live there apparently weren’t willing to admit they voted for Trump either. I haven’t lived in New York for my whole life. I’ve lived in some very blue states, true. And now I live in a city that Trump calls home, too.

More than half of this country did not vote for a reality television star with no political experience. Does more than half the country live in a bubble?

I don’t just associate with people who agree with every word I have to say. I respect other opinions. But I’m very, very scared. I can’t respect opinions that value hatred of other cultures, religions, ethnicities, sexual orientation, and so on. I don’t respect people who have been endorsed by the KKK and the NRA. I can’t.

So did Trump win because I was caught up in the bubble? Were the pollsters and forecasters caught up in the bubble, too? Is that why they predicted this wrong for the first time since Truman?

It’s not the bubble’s fault. The bubble did this right.