Dear Mr. VP,
I hear Punxatawney Phil saw his shadow this morning, which means six more weeks of
a Trump presidency winter. Same difference. Both make me feel cold inside.
Resistance fatigue is a real thing, both personally and politically. It’s easy to feel like you should just give up because the hits. keep. coming. I wonder if you felt like that in Indiana, where you were an unpopular governor unlikely to win a next term. So you know what it feels like, and you know you need some pick-me-ups to keep fighting the good fight against evil, or in your case, against queer people and people of color and women.
Here are the things that have been keeping me going since January 20th.
- Boots. These are my favorite boots. They make me taller and they sound stompy. They’re especially good on a wooden floor. Good for kicking Nazis. I’ve never ridden a horse. Maybe someday.
- Music that makes me want to sing loudly and sort of angrily. “Turn Down for What” has been on repeat for awhile. G frequently asks for Rage Against the Machine while we’re driving to school, and that’s good too. (He also likes: Metallica, Kesha, the B-52s. Excellent taste instilled by his mother.)
- Coffee. I got a latte at Starbucks a few days ago to celebrate their plan to hire 10,000 refugees. Right on. If I could get an IV drip of caffeine I’d consider it. Does Obamacare cover that? (Yes, I really own this mug. Is it clear yet that you and I would not get along?)
- Ideas. Here’s my main man, Abbie, and one of my favorite books. Have you read it? My guess is “no.”
- Comrades. And here’s where I’m so lucky. My friends, my co-workers — we’re all fighting together. You’ve got a lot of moms really angry. You shouldn’t fuck with moms. I know, because I’m extra-tight with at least a few of them.
So if you’re getting tired of dealing with your boss, just like the rest of us, try those. If I see you wearing cowboy boots at your next press conference, I’m going to take it as a sign.