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watching Donald Trump choke with friends
Monday, September 26 2016
This morning before work I spent another hour or so in the greenhouse sub-basement, jackhammering mostly in one or two inches of water. I'd expected the jackhammering in water to be a messy thing that would soon soak me in electrically-dangerous water, but it turns out that water is more likely to be flung from exposed rocks that are muddy or otherwise wet. A thick layer of water isn't badly agitated by the jackhammer's bit. Tiny waves form on the water's surface, but few if any droplets spray upward. I was able to break up a fair amount of submerged rock, removing another approximately 25 pounds. After I was done, I used the hoist to lift the jackhammer out of the hole. I would be leaving for California tomorrow, and I didn't want it down there should there be heavy rains and the hole fill with water.
Tonight would feature the first presidential debate since the primaries, the first between the competently boring (and tiresomely familiar) Hillary Clinton and the absurdly terrifying Donald J. Trump. Gretchen had decided to host a debate-watching party, and I'd suggested a theme wherein we would eat foods from minority groups and cultures Donald Trump demonized to get to his present position. Gretchen focused mostly on Mexican food, particularly hand-pressed corn tortillas with shredded cabbage, a delicious green sauce, cashew crema, and both pan-seared tempeh and some sort of tofu. Meanwhile, I'd managed to assemble a ridiculous little wall of wood and cardboard to place on the dining room table to separate the Mexican food from everything else, thereby mocking Donald Trump's biggest idea of the campaign.
People started arriving for our party at around 7:30pm, when I was still technically on the clock. I set up my Chromebook to see if I was needed in Slack and helped myself to some of the margarita that Ray and Nancy had brought. We all ate heartily for awhile in the living room and then moved upstairs to the teevee room to see the debate. All of us were nervous about how it would go. I'd been so demoralized by recent polls that I'd stopped visiting FiveThirtyEight.com, which was providing a probably-accurate though too-terrifying-to-behold assessment of the state of the race. I prefered the cheerfully-upbeat (though seemingly realist) tone of TalkingPointsMemo.com, sparingly-copyedited though it is.
Then, just like that, the debate began. It was almost like being in some weird alternative future to see Hillary Clinton shaking the hand of what must be the most successful-ever of charlatan scammers. Whatever fears I had were soon erased as Clinton faced down Trump as though she were a bemused vice principal and he a impetuous nine year old. She smiled patronizingly at his poorly-considered inanity and referred to him exclusively by his first name (he is famous for insisting that people call him "Mr. Trump"). She managed to throw him so badly off his game that he found himself making absurd claims such as that Clinton had been fighting ISIS her "entire adult life."
The debate was fun for all of the assembled. Periodically we'd rewind the DVR to savor a juicy bit, and all was well except that the last five minutes or so failed to be recorded for whatever reason.
The food spread at tonight's party. The wall I built can be seen separating the Mexican food (foreground) from everything else. The brownish arm you see reaching for a taco belongs to Ray, who was born in the Phillipines and holds a green card.
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