Countdown

 What have I put up with for more than four years? 

College? That took me six.

I lived through it. 

I worked at Arby's for more than four years. I am just starting to get that last layer bit of grease off. But I survived. 

I would like to believe that there is some sort of Nietzschean experiment at work here. What doesn't kill us will make us stronger.

But first it will perplex and frustrate us to the point of extinction. 

I am talking here about the Second Trumpreich. Each new day brings a twist or revelation that makes us, the common folk, echo that line from Working In A Coal Mine: "Well, how long can this go on?" 

Here is where I would like to draw a line between "putting up with" and "surviving." Sadly, there are already far too many folks who were not afforded the chance to live through the second administration of the convicted felon who once hosted a game show. There will be no parting gifts for those who died as a result of having their benefits eliminated, or those who died in ICE custody. The looming specter of those who may perish as a result of the elimination of vaccines or simply pushed off the rolls because they were too old, too poor, too blue to continue. 

How long?

The courts are trying to keep up, but a Federal Judge ruling that it was illegal for Epstein's favorite client to send National Guard troops into Los Angeles a month after they had been sent home or the actual accounting behind the trade wars being started by a guy who managed to bankrupt four casinos that he owned. A guy who insists that cheating on his taxes makes him "smart." 

How long?

What will it take until every single one of the sycophants and minions wake up to the notion that this guy is only working for one person: himself. It has only been eight months. 

Eight exhausting months.