what would you do if you found out the dog you walk (and your only swimming dog) belongs to a trumper? it's not the dog's fault of course. dogs don't have presidents, and if they did they'd never be represented by a sick hateful fucking destroyer like trump. but i feel sick at heart. i think the dreaded possibility may be the sick reality. i won't even consider friends who are haters, how could you befriend hate? but a client? this could be some kind of litmus test. i felt fated with this dog, but if the sick fuck trump comes with such a great fate—what would i do?!

wait, there's a six foot long beautiful cloth banner of martin luther king i have a dream by the front door. there is more to the story than meets the eye. but still i'm afraid to ask. but if i went in with blinders on and saw nothing but the dog and the door then no problem right? so no problem. things, memorabilia, float around and are not destroyed or toppled but one day may be looked at in a different light, revealed for what they are, as the sick fuck trump did for the empirical neoliberal enterprise. we see with utter clarity that it is hateful, and the supporters are also well aware, unless they are clueless or brainwashed. 

what did shakespeare say:
There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in our philosophy. 

the things we see today defy reason and common sense and even the most basic human necessities, not only freedom, but life itself. but there is more to the story than the sickness of trumpamerica and the assorted tyrants plaguing the earth.

i decide i'm going to assume the trump 2020 on the 20 dollar bill is just a joke.