Somebody asked me yesterday where I was when I heard Trump had been elected president.
I was at a local bar where the Democratic Committer was gathering for what we hoped would be a victory party. We were elated when Virginia went for Clinton — laughing, screaming, dancing. A few minutes later, Wisconsin went for Trump and put him over the top. A scream. then dead silence. And then tears, all around.
We hung out for a while, shell-shocked. The guy next to me at the bar was literally crying into his beer, saying every few minutes, “I’m going to lose my job.” He worked for Planned Parenthood. Later, I walked home in the middle of the night, feeling an overwhelming sense of doom.
The nearly four years since then have been even worse than I’d imagined. We have to vote this megalomaniac out of office. We just have to.