Dateline: Venice, Florida, Apocalypse + 3
First of all, a proper poppy, as they don't have them here..
Just to remind us of the really important things in life...
Then I suppose it's time for some observations (after, that is, I've had my T shirt printed: "Don't Blame Me I'm a Foreigner").
Well, first observation - the sun came up on wednesday morning. And thursday morning. And this morning. The sky hasn't been raining toads and Publix hasn't run out of tinned food. All right, the Canadian immigration website crashed on wednesday morning - a fact pointed out by some solemn-looking people I overheard at the healthy smoothie bar at the YMCA, "Well I guess we'll have to stay put and make the best of it." But meanwhile, another group, sitting in the hot tub, were proclaiming, "Isn't it a beautiful day!" They were not talking about the weather.
Local Florida Trumpsters, Trumpkins, whatever you want to call them have been remarkably restrained - perhaps some of their number, despite voting for The Donald with varying degrees of enthusiasm and/or nose-holding, may be having a bit of a morning-after the night-before, "Oh no what have I done" sort of feeling. I can certainly see how it all happened - if you live in western new York, you can't not have seen. My neighbours there are a universe away from the politically-correct, soy latte sipping, gluten-free elites of New York City and got fed up with being observed down their snooty noses.
I can't help being sorry for the Hillary fans though. They have the dazed air of the French aristocracy on the cusp of the French Revolution - or of Second Officer Lightoller in "A Night to Remember", the morning after the Titanic sank from under him, "We were so sure.." I don't believe in dancing on people's graves (and I'm a neutral foreigner, after all) but there has been something chuckle-inducing about all the angst. The poor students at Yale, was it, let off their exams because they were so traumatised, the sobbing celebrities (no dear, sorry but you won't be singing at the inauguration) and the rash of sentimentally angry "Letters to My Daughter" that have suddenly appeared in the more left-leaning press. "I know I promised you a woman president for Christmas, Sweetie - but, Santa didn't read the note properly and sent you a nasty bogeyman instead.." (I paraphrase). Most bizarre of all was one by a chap called Aaron Sorkin, a playwright, apparently, so he must know something about melodrama. It started off in one of those "Only in America" ways: "Well the world changed late last night in a way I couldn't protect us from. That's a terrible feeling for a father.." (I do not paraphrase). He went on to refer to the President-elect as an "incompetent pig" and used a rather nasty expletive too, coming close to copying some of his nemesis' own bad manners. Not a good idea if you're claiming the moral high ground. Or indeed writing to your daughter.
Losing an election is a bummer, I know. Like watching Man United go down 4-0 to Chelsea. But cheer up, there's always next season.