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Forty-two Days and Counting

 Earth date: September 21, 2020

Four years ago. my husband and I took dance classes. We had tickets for a jive dance party for later that month, and we wanted to get out on the dance floor and pretend to know our stuff. We got home late that Tuesday night and turned on the TV to watch the election results. To our surprise, our choice was winning.

For months, the polls had predicted that the other nominee was a better candidate, better qualified and better liked. I had followed her career for years and I came thisclose to voting for her, but at the last minute, I went with my conscience and voted for the other guy. If he was going to lose, no one would notice my one vote, and he and I would go down together.

Everyone was stunned. On all channels, these sophisticated, urban reporters were shocked and angry. They had done everything to get their nominee elected, but the ignorant masses had disobeyed orders. I was horrified by some of the comments. They were abusive and demeaning. They called us who voted for Trump illiterate, toothless, and misogynists. They said these redneck hillbillies had ordered their illiterate, toothless wives to vote for Trump, and the mindless, redneck, hillbilly wives did as they were told. There was no other way someone disgusting like Trump could have gotten that many votes if not for the backward states and the backward people who clearly did not know how the game was played. The press and the political machine give the orders and we the toothless follow them.  

My husband went to bed and I stayed up and watched into the early hours of the next day. I waited for Hillary Clinton to accept defeat and graciously thank her people, but that never happened. It later leaked out that she was trashing her hotel room like some aging rock star, destroying things because the Grammy Award she had been promised wasn’t going to be hers.

The next day, I tried to show my husband some of the degrading, nasty comments I’d heard uttered, but everything had been erased from the air waves. The last of the votes were still being counted, he wouldn’t be sworn in as President for another two months, and already people were demanding his impeachment. A military coupe was discussed. It was like none of this ever happened. All evidence of this had been erased.

That was when I knew I had escaped the slick propaganda machine by a hair and had voted for the right person. I hadn’t fallen for the hype. I hadn’t been mesmerized by the smoke and mirrors. It’s like I woke up that day, and I realized how frightening the press can easily hypnotize the masses. But let’s not forget they get their power from us, but only when we surrender it to them. Without us they are nothing more than a bunch of bloated talking heads.

I prefer to trust my own eyes and ears. In the last four years, I’ve watched this President shoulder against political resistance and constant hate. I’ve seen this man give up his salary and let his private businesses suffer million-dollar losses because he puts America first. His opposition hates and hides any of his accomplishments, and while he perseveres for this country’s sake, they and their families get richer from the blood, sweat, and tears of their constituents. 

His business expertise has wrangled deals in the last three years that benefit this country and its people, and it rankles the career politicians and the countries and organizations who have been taking our money and lining their own pockets for years while accomplishing little for us.   

This year, my husband and I will vote early and safely. There is no dance to attend, so we will be home on Election Night. He will go to bed early, and I will find a TV station with limited commentary and polite assessments. I will stay up only long enough to see how my fellow toothless, illiterates voted before I join him.    

 

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