The one year anniversary of the most traumatic election in SJW history.
Made all the more lovely by the fact that they had all spiked on the ball on the twenty yard line. And then done their victory dance!
Here are a couple of my favorites
The second is from the night before the election:
The Trump Train's Last Stop
I shall start by stating that I got no sleep at all last night. If my prose becomes excessively florid it is only because the Incan Monkey God of Sleep Deprivation is whispering in my shell-like ear.
Welcome to Grand Rapids, the town AMWAY built. Home of shockingly hot Dutch girls and mind bogglingly great beer. Also the location of the final Trump Rally.
The picture doesn't do the girls anything that approaches justice.
Blame the photographer and his behind-the-times-phone
Michigan was plagued with all manor of loathsome Democrat Presidential horrors of past, present and (*hopefully not*) future, yesterday. Clinton, Obama and Other Clinton. Yes, Michigan appears to be in play this year, nobody goes to that kind of trouble for a safe space.
But Michigan also got to see the Man Himself, quite a bit this week. Trump ventured boldy into darkest rust-belt territory. Strange and forbidding lands where few Republicans have dared to press foot since the dawn of time (i.e. The New Deal). Yet he also warmed himself by hearths of the Children of the Kindly West (little known secret, the West Mitten is deep red Mitten). Finally ending his long life on the road in Republican center of power called Downtown Grand Rapids.
The doors were supposed to open at 9:00pm and the event was to start at 11:00. However I knew Trump's last rally was in New Hampshire at 8:00 there was no way in hell he would be in town before midnight.
Knowing the downtown area a little better than a lot of the people at the rally, your intrepid reporter parked at the AMWAY Paintland Grand Hotel's parking garage. In the finest of Dutch/Scotts tradition I was being cheap. They just lift the gate after 1:00am and I knew I would have plenty of time when I showed up.
Boy, was I right.
I believe my words were, "ho-lee fuck!"
The line stretched from the doors of DeVoss Place around the block, over the Grand River, past the front of the Gerald Ford Presidential Museum finally snaking back under the bridge.
I took one look and knew they had over sold the event by a factor of about 100%. The Fire Marshall would close the doors before I got anywhere near them. On the other hand it was pleasant November night, the air was brisk without being biting. And the company was most enjoyable indeed.
This was a Monday night crowd. Yet still it was Boisterous, Bellicose with plenty of Bon-vivant (and I am sure other adjectives that start with "B") This was a Trump crowd. Proud, chest thumping and totally pumped Americans. I will be proud to go to the robot apocalypse with them any and all of them by my side. Songs were song. High fives exchanged. Backs were slapped. And pretty girls were all over the place posing for selfies with surprised middle aged men. I fell in with a group of college kids. The Blonde Girl was promising to flash Trump at the rally so I stuck around with them out of only the purest of academic interest. College kids are still college kids. Attempts at brainwashing them have not as yet over come the power of late-teen and early twenty hormonal surges.
Yes, there were the other kind of college student on hand. Something under a dozen of these dull, dim, dispirited (and other pejoratives beginning with D) protestors had shown up. Honestly these attention seeking muddy puddles of PC addle mindedness were kind of depressing. It really wasn't as much fun to hurl insults at them as I wanted it to be. Their reaction to being called shills for a corrupt drunken brain damaged criminal was mostly to shrug as if to say, "yeah, I know." There were three contingents seriously greasy left over hippies, who I thought at first were just homeless and then I realized were wearing the tweed jackets and corduroys of state college professors. Some bean pole skinny boys that were clearly afraid someone would hit them. And of course feminists. These included some proud lesbian types that tried chanting something but the Grand Rapids branch of the Friends of Milo quickly drowned them out. They were ultimately a sad and lifeless little pod of people, who had all the energy of a couple who has been married for twenty five years and feel that since it's their anniversary they should probably try to fuck...and then don't.
Back to the better people on hand. This was definitely an all walks of life crowd. Everyone from every age and background was on hand for this. Being an Alt Righter I no longer make much of Right Wing Diversity but there it was, very much on display. Blacks, Hindus and yes Mexicans were waiting patiently in line.
Things had already kicked off on the inside with some local entertainer.
Local but reasonably talented guitarist Ted Nugget (or something-like-that).
Trumps plane landed around midnight and he was rushed to the stage for one last speech about the time Nuge finished his last riff. Herewith, Donald Trump's final stump speech of this great campaign.
Around 1:00 the line really started moving and I knew that the Fire Marshall had closed the doors. Sure enough I was right again. I asked my new college friends what time Taco Bell closes because I knew they would know. Two in the moring as it turned out. So I made a midnight run for the border for a seven layer burrito. And headed back to Fortress Cataline knowing full well I was getting about zero sleep tonight.
I have now banged out this very rough draft and I will now post it and go vote.
If we do go down today By god we went down punching, biting and kicking.
But I think we may just win this one.