Swamp Rabbit was reading about the House panel that was grilling Louis DeJoy (nickname Joy Boy?), the megadonor appointed by Trump to wreck the U.S. Postal Service.
“How come you ain’t watching it on TV?” he said. “It’s got a lot of them Washington D.C. uglies you love to hate.”
“Waste of time,” I replied. “Do you expect that flunky to confess his sins to a bunch of Congress critters? That would never happen, not even in a Frank Capra movie.”
I went back to reading the book by Mary Trump that traces the psychopathology of her infamous uncle. Not much to learn there either. Fred Trump was a jerk and Donald is a chip off the old block. Trump’s supporters don’t care that he’s a jerk; that’s why they voted for him.
But Swamp Rabbit wasn’t finished tweaking me for mouthing off about national politics. “What about the Republican National Convention? Looks like most of them rats are still on Trump’s ship. I thought you said it was sinking.”
I told him the rats made their bed during the impeachment proceedings. Now they have nowhere else to go. They’re just like Trump in that they have no ideas for dealing with the virus, unemployment, income inequality, healthcare costs, climate change and all the other problems dragging down millions of Americans. They’re hoping Trump can steal the election with help from loathsome characters like DeJoy.
“Same old gang of thieves and bigots,” I said. “Worst of all, they’re boring.”
Swamp Rabbit smiled. “Does this mean you finally gonna stop all them anti-Trump rants I gotta hear every time I run into you?”
“Not yet,” I said. “You’ll have to wait until after the election for that.”