Donald Trump in Paradise

I wrote a song to commemorate the election of Donald Trump. (4/4 time, key of G)

CLOCK-PUNCHING IN TRUMPISTAN
We’re all still trying to figure out
What to do with ourselves these days
Do we keep on living the same way today
Or did the world just come to an end
CHORUS
Clock-punching in Trumpistan
Just another day on the job, I’m
Clock-punching in Trumpistan
Go ahead and sign me up for the mob
I’m a Hillary voter in a world gone Trump
A progressive in a world off the wheels
How do I go back to the good ole days
Is this how the Apocalypse feels?
CHORUS
They say on the news that
We gotta come together
Gotta unite in the US of A
Then Donald says the bad guys
Are right down on the border
Gotta build a wall to keep em away
CHORUS
Well, ya better watch your mouth
Better watch what you say
The rules of the state
Govern what you say
Well I wish it were different
I wish it was better
But I voted for Clinton
In a world that’s gotten redder
CHORUS X 2
Hey, I’m no Jimmy Buffett, though I like to flatter myself that you could sing/perform this song approximately to the tune of “Cheeseburger in Paradise.”
I would like to think that America did not commit suicide by election a week ago tonight, but it’s very hard to get past that idea. How does one rationalize mass lunacy? How does one normalize the elevation of a bigoted narcissist to our highest office? “Do we keep living the same way today/or did the world just come to an end?”
It should go without saying I thought Hillary would win. I mean, I voted for her, in a state that was bequeathed to Trump long, long ago. Then again, everyone thought Hillary would win – including Trump himself. Polls, political gurus, talking heads, hell, probably even most level-headed Republicans believed a Clinton victory imminent on Nov. 8.
Yet when I sat down at my computer on election night, something told me a nasty surprise lay ahead. There on CNN, the first early election returns were giving Trump two states and Hillary only one. Hm. Disturbing, but hey, there’s a shitload of votes still out there, right? Yet … I felt a twinge of discomfort. Trump was leading by two states. Not a good sign..
An hour and a half later, I and virtually everyone else in the free world was beginning to feel the sting of utter disappointment. Trump was WINNING. Try as you might to spin it, Chuck Todd – “Maybe she’s got a few more thousand votes in some unknown precinct in Palm Beach!” – Trump was ON HIS WAY. And no one could believe it. No one. What the hell was happening? I mean, hadn’t “SNL” called this thing three weeks ago?
I went to bed feeling dejected and depressed, probably a lot like Hillary Clinton. I didn’t wake up feeling any better. My initial excitement at “living again to fight another day,” which I always experience on waking, was quickly replaced with “oh, shit.” I checked my phone, and sure enough, The Donald …. had …. gulp ……… won. Well, fuck all.
It’s now a week later, and the pundits and talking heads and columnists I normally pay attention to are mourning America. They’ve come home from the funeral, are gathered around the food and commiserating each other on their loss. There is much weeping and gnashing of teeth, and for some reason, no one seems to want to read the will. They don’t want to know what we’ve all got coming. Because, you see, Donald Trump is the author of that will. And the nasty surprises aren’t done with us yet. We think we can project far into the future and see what’s coming down the pike, but honestly, we have no fucking idea … just as a year ago, no one could have seen this coming. “Donald Trump, president? Get the hell out of here.”
Cooler heads occasionally make some sense. Even our current president, Barack Obama, is trying to find some lemonade to make from this unmitigated fucking disaster-in-the-making. “I want Mr. Trump to succeed, because if he succeeds, America succeeds.” Well, yeah. And if he fucks up, America’s fucked, too. That’s the unspoken flip side to that coin. While I have absolutely no hope for his presidency and a gathering sense of pessimism about our collective future – as a nation, as a democracy, hell, as living, breathing beings – I have to say that I do want Donald Trump to succeed. Because what is the alternative? Barack Obama knows, but wisely, he won’t say.

 

 

 

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