The Light? I Have Glimpsed It!

Seven years ago, as a much younger man, or at least a man seven years younger than I am as I compose this, I wrote a fun-poking song about our president and his very, very hot First Lady, and, typically, thought myself ever so clever.

I realize now that I was wrong. Without realizing it, I had become a denizen of the Woke echo chamber, in which never is heard an encouraging word about Mr. Trump, and the skies are foreboding all day. I was convinced beyond a whisper of uncertainty that Mr. Trump is a stupid, incompetent, infantile, delusional, corrupt, hateful, petulant, vulgar, treacherous, soulless fascist, and, indeed, a fecal stain on American history.

Now, though, having sneaked out of the Woke echo chamber (“There’s no such word as snuck,” said Miss Gabby, my excruciatingly sexy 4th grade teacher, and I wanted nothing more in the world than to please her, and to wed and bed her, though of course at the time I could only guess what bedding someone involved), I realize what a little fool I’ve been. I suffer no longer from Trump Derangement Syndrome. Rather, I recognize him as a deeply flawed (as who is not?) human being who’s doing his best for the country he loves, and in which I used to reside, and which issued my passport.

There is no question that, among President Trump’s supporters, there are xenophobic and misogynistic numbskulls whose knuckles become woefully abraded if they walk more than a couple of blocks on paved streets. But there are also kind, decent, tolerant wearers of the red baseball cap, and now I am one of them, as witness my starting-tomorrow video podcast series Maga to the Max which I hope you will give a chance, and then recommend to friends, foes, and family because maybe someone will become an actual paid subscriber, and no man can live on bread alone.

Tomorrow, my dear. Right here. Bring an open mind and a loving heart. The sun will come out tomorrow.