The Skeeter Daddle Diaries

I only had one serious New Year’s Resolution this year. No, not to improve myself by reading more. Not to exercise more. Not to be kinder to my fellow man. Not to quit swearing, not to watch less TV, not to quit drinking, not to work harder, none of that stuff. No, my one and only resolution was to put politics in the rearview, stop being a news junkie, let the country take a nap with Sleepy Joe at the wheel now that Donald J. Trump was tossed on the ash heap of history, a pathetic little loser who would spend the remainder of his pathetic little life in courtrooms and hopefully in a jail cell where he could write his three volume memoirs with all the time in the world.

Four years of this spoiled brat of a man was plenty. Every day seven days a week four weeks a month twelve months a year for four long years the billionaire king intruded on my serenity like a roof leak dripping on my favorite things until they turned soggy and mildewed, drip drip drip until I thought I would lose my mind. The man lived to be in the spotlight. It was all he wanted. Me me me, wah wah wah, as incessant as a rash of poison ivy, scratch me scratch me scratch me til it bleeds and spreads and spreads some more. No end to it, just one outrage after another, mindless infuriating idiocy, the bleating of a baby who wants food all day and all night. It was as if insanity was forever knocking on the door of my head wanting in, wanting to use the bathroom, wanting to borrow the phone, wanting to eat my dinner, wanting to watch TV, let me in, let me in, let me in!

But he lost the election and for awhile that knocking on my door grew more distant. He seemed to have retreated to his rat cage in the back of the White House to nurse his grudge, refused to talk to reporters, maybe left the spotlight for awhile. My resolution seemed safe. No more Trump. No more stupid politics. The adults were back in charge. Sure, not nearly as exciting but hey, exactly what I needed for awhile. He could start his own TV talk show, okay by me, I wouldn’t be tuning in. Tweet your heart out, loser, I don’t have an account. Move down to Mar-a-Lago, it’s as far from the South End as anyplace in America, far far away, not even close to my radar.

No telling what the next few weeks bring. A call for the military to overturn the election? Make Jared ambassador to Mars? Call a few more governors or Secretary of States where he lost to Biden? Pack the Supreme Court with his Medal of Freedom recipients, folks like Rush Limbaugh and Jim Jordan? Buy Greenland? Attack Iran and nuke North Korea? Mandate no mask wearing? Arrest Sleepy Joe? Who knows? What I do know is my New Year’s Resolution is in shreds. It looks like a long year again. Maybe next New Year I’ll keep my vow….

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