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Category: Politics

One Man, One Vote
I dreamt last night
About the Drump
And about
Impeachment

He stood astride
The Senate floor
A colossus sprayed
In peach tint

You can’t fire me!
He thundered down
His lips all pursed
In fury

But nothing could
Prevent it now
These stiffs would be
His jury

Yet when they vote
It’s 50 – 50!
How will this tie
Be broke up?

I see Mike Pence
Step forward now…
And that is when
I woke up
Courting Disaster
This is why we have the Constitution. Just in case a few boneheads and bad actors get into power and start screwing things up.

The separation of powers will be particularly useful, because the executive branch is plain crazy and the legislative branch has sold its soul for power. So the courts are where the action is. We’ll need to dust off the emoluments clause, limber up due process, and max out the Bill of Rights.

All this will take some time — maybe even four years — so whenever we’re not speaking or assembling or suing like crazy, let’s get those impeachment papers drawn up, just so they’re ready to go when the time comes. We can fill in the blanks later, but be sure to leave plenty of space.
Forward March
It took 5 million women to make me do it, but I finally took part in a protest march. Okay, “make me” isn’t quite the right phrase. Inspired me is more like it.

I like to think of myself as a political person, but the idea of jostling along in a mob of unpredictable strangers does not appeal to me. The occasional letter is fine, or a phone call, and I have my cartoons of course, but marching and chanting and yelling has never been my cup of activism.

I know that makes me sound like an elitist, and maybe I am. On this one occasion, though, I’m glad I came out of my bubble. The vibe was nothing but friendly. There was no violence during the Women’s March on Washington…anywhere. And no arrests. The San Francisco march was brimming with positivity and determination. There was some anger, but mostly the event was a kind of joyous rejection of the Drump agenda and the brand of ugliness he’s sold to our country. As one sign pointed out, “So bad, even introverts are here.” I hear that, sister.

It was by most accounts the largest single protest march in the history of the planet. Red states, blue states, and plenty of other countries added to the 683 total marches (though nothing from Russia, it should be noted). Better yet, it was a completely grass roots event. Any politicians who participated were strictly late add-ons.

This was a people’s march — female people in particular. I was a little hesitant to join at first, thinking that men might dilute the impact of the event. But no. This mass expression of conviction was in no way exclusive. All genders, all ages, all issues were represented, and that fact in no way detracted from the power of this show of unity. We experienced as one the solidarity, the strength in numbers, the satisfaction of standing up and counting for something.

So we all felt better — even in the dark and the pouring rain at the end. We’d expressed our discontent in one big, newsworthy show of strength. That is certainly something good in itself. But is that it? I’m new to this marching thing, so I don’t know what happens next. In the past I’ve seen big marches covered in the media, and the next day it’s like they never happened. Will the Women’s March on Washington be one of those? It set records for turnout, tripling the numbers of the inauguration itself, and stomped all over Drump’s headlines from the day before. Those are all good things, too, but will anything come of it?

I can only say that I sent an email yesterday to Anna Eshoo (my congresswoman, in case you’ve never heard of her). My issue was women’s health. I wrote to Senator Lamar Alexander today on the subject of education and the godawful nominee Betsy DeVos. I’ll probably contact DiFi tomorrow about the suppression of climate change data. There are plenty of things to be pissed off about, that’s for sure.

But will I keep it up? It is kind of a hassle. Maybe I’ll eventually just punk out and shrug my shoulders. Maybe I don’t care about this stuff as much as I thought I did. Maybe my righteousness was just a contact high from that huge, chanting crowd of women. Maybe it will fade, and nothing will change.

I don’t know. I can only hope that all my fellow marchers continue to have the same doubts.
Elective President-Electomy
Okay, that didn't work. I hadn’t done a caricature of Drump since late May because I didn’t want to go on feeding the ego beast. At the time it seemed to me that withholding attention from him was one of the few weapons I had in the battle against the tsunami of stupidity and celebrity worship that has now consumed our nation. I had hoped that focusing on issues rather than personalities would clarify the situation for anyone who might be paying attention. But no; the tactic failed, and here we all are.

Back then I was even doubting the power of satire itself. All the brightest, funniest, most insightful satirists had lined up and done some of their best work against Drump, and he still won.

But I am in a different place now, and as of this week I have once again taken up caricature as a tool of my trade. The election has changed things, including my view of the president-elect. He’s a disease. Henceforth I will treat him as a boil needing to be lanced, a cancer begging for radical chemo, a malignant growth that must be surgically removed. I don’t know that my humble pen is that sharp and deft, but I have to try.

I will portray him as bloated, corrupt, and reeking of evil and bad cologne. A shallow, mendacious fool, utterly callous to the needs of his (or any) people. Yes, I will be descending into the dark waters of character assassination. In my defense, I can only say that my depictions will be 100% factually accurate.

Maybe this tactic won’t work either, but I can’t help thinking that drawing is better than not drawing. When you’re dealing with a deadly disease, no medicine is too strong.
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No "new normal" for me, this shit ain't normal.
~ MS, Truckee