A Fanny Pack Named Trump

Screen Shot 2016-05-04 at 9.00.08 PMAs of last evening, Donald Trump is the presumptive Republican nominee for U.S. president, which means that all the dystopias are real and that the hatred lurking in our increasingly bifurcated country is blowing up hard. On the other hand, five planets are in retrograde, which happens approximately once a decade. I keep telling myself that with so much astrological mayhem afoot, we’re essentially inhabiting Bizarro World right now. That, come November, everything will smooth out and the Orange Man will die on the vine.

Still, we should not rest easy about anything. We should not joke; we should not pass on snotty memes. No future is in stone, and intelligent, compassionate discourse and action that engages the best of each of us is Screen Shot 2016-05-04 at 8.44.39 PMrequired to protect our children, our trees, our fucking freedom. Easier said than done, of course. This moment is so upside-down that I’m distracted by the dumbest things imaginable, no doubt because they’re easier to manage than the existential question marks almost visibly dangling from the heavens. To wit: I’m keen on buying a gold lamé fanny pack even though this purchase is bound to end very, very badly. In fact, as I type this I’m realizing how such an accessory is the sartorial equivalent of Trump himself. Say it once, say it twice: This is not a time for leaning in.

"All, everything I understand, I understand only because I love."
― Leo Tolstoy