My Confession

...today is that I boycotted the Presidential Inauguration last Friday.

OK, maybe boycott is a bit strong, and maybe the devil is in the details.  I didn't go to Washington, D.C. because:

1. I had to work,
2. I wasn't invited,
3. Washington, D.C. is a big town, but still probably not big enough for two The Donalds. While I am very secure in my bloghood, it seemed really not worth the risk that the other The Donald would get all envious-like that I would be stealing the limelight, and then go all nuts about it with his little Twitter hands.

I didn't take any time out of my day to watch the swearing-in live, but a couple of hours later, some gals in the company lunchroom were watching the replays, including HRC glaring at WJC for ogling the incoming First Lady's boobs.  Bubba just can't help himself.

Later on, someone was playing the new President's speech.  Some folks said it was good, some said it was combative.  Maybe I'm a bit jaded and didn't really give a rodent's hind end, but I'd have been just as happy to hear the guy say "Thank you, American citizens, for the trust you've placed in me.  I promise that I and my administration will never forget the sacred duty we owe to you.  Now, if you'll excuse me, we've got a boatload of work to do, starting right now. Thank you!"

But of course that's not how it went.  I guess it's pro forma for an incoming official to do some bloviating, but it sure would've been refreshing if he'd given my version of the speech instead.

Apparently there are a lot of First Amendment 'patriots' who didn't have to work, may or may not have been invited, and maybe are not named The Donald, who felt obliged to lend their voices, profanity laced placards, bricks & cinderblocks, and Molotov cocktails to the cluster of festivities in our nation's Capital and other urban areas around the country.  With the obvious exceptions of the violence, I am genuinely grateful to live in a country where everyone, no matter how uninformed or misguided, can speak their piece in public.  (As well, I pray that the hooligans are similarly mindful of their good fortune in not bashing in the windshield of, or trying to set ablaze, a car I was riding in.)

This morning, I tuned in to a bit of NBC's Meet the Depressed, to find the show's host Chuck Todd sparring with DJT confidante Kellyanne Conway, in what could best be described as a urinating contest.  I wouldn't say that either party's behavior impressed me much (both streams seemed about equal), and Heaven help us if this is the kind of media relationship we have for the next four years.  Todd's next guest was Chuck Schumer, whom I cannot stand, and I have to give the NBC host some props for seemingly not giving the New York senator a free pass.  Maybe the ghost of Tim Russert - even though he was a liberal - has given Chuck Todd some journalistic spine.  (Editor's note: My favorite Sunday morning TV pundit-fest host was David Brinkley.)

Anyway, with the inauguration and weekend behind us, here's to hoping that starting tomorrow, the new Administration will focus on matters of substance - it's the economy, stupid - and ignore the Nielsen ratings.

Thank you, my fellow Americans, and may God Bless the United States of America!

P.S. - Proving that what is old is new and vice-versa, I was watching a Carson rerun tonight, circa 1992.  The campaign was underway, and Governor WJC had received a great deal of negative press regarding his dalliances with one Gennifer Flowers that had come to light.  In his monologue, Carson quipped that the publicity had caused Ms. Flowers to be unemployed, but that her prospects were looking up, as she had just been "named runner up mistress to Donald Trump, in case his relationship with Marla Maples doesn't work out."