Sat, 20:33: Last night, walking home from our movie, we found ourselves walking behind a young Black man who was beside himself with joy—about the incoming administration. He had a red MAGA hat hanging from his backpack. To say he was a solitary voice, here in the heart of Seattle, would be an understatement. We were walking in the same direction and uneasy for about a block and a half, wary of the very possibility of engagement.
"Two more days, baby!" he kept shouting. "Daddy's coming HOME!" Really? Uhh. Okay. He'd get several yards ahead of us, then we'd wind up catching up with him because he kept doing things like stopping to shout through a restaurant window at its patrons. "Two more days, baby!" he shouted, throwing his hands in the air and waving at the diners. "WHOOOO!"
A Black man supporting President Fuckwit makes about as much sense as any queer people supporting him. But yeah, I know, neither the Black community nor the queer community are a monolith. All I could think about was how unlikely it was that this guy—or others with the same kind of wild enthusiasm—was excited because of things like, say, policy. The last time in history that we saw this level of political cult of personality elicits a pretty obvious comparison, which makes the support here all the more bizarre, and honestly a little nauseating.
As of last night, by the way, the inauguration was three days away—not "two more days." Facts will have no meaning under this administration though, so why should time?
