Politics and Other Acts of Stupidity

I must admit, this 2016 election has been very, very interesting, extremely entertaining, and quite enlightening here on the old Sun City home front.  Even with Mom’s slowly progressing dementia, she still usually makes more sense than most of the politicians and the pundits put together.  Take the Indiana primary that happened yesterday on May 3rd.

francis_speaking_at_a_podium_lg_clr

Bill and I were in the kitchen, cleaning up after dinner when Mom called out from the living room.  “He’s doing it again.  I can’t believe he’s doing it again!”

I rolled my eyes, passed a handful silverware to Bill to put in the dishwasher, and walked into the living room.

“Who’s doing what?” I asked with a sigh.

“That Trump guy.  He’s winning more elections.  I can’t believe he keeps winning stuff.”

“And why can’t you believe it?”

“Because he’s such a phony and a big mouth and a liar and I can’t believe people are so stupid that they’re voting for him.”

“I guess there are a lot of angry people out there,” I commented.

“Well I would think so.  I’d be pretty angry too at all of these idiots voting for Trump!”

“No, Mom, I mean people are angry at the government so they’re voting for Trump.”

“Well you aren’t, are you?”

“Angry at the government or voting for Trump?”

“Either.  Both.  Are you?” she asked again, squinting up at me suspiciously.

“Yes, I’m angry and no, I didn’t vote for Trump in our primary.”

“Well good,” she replied with a smile, which quickly turned to a frown.  “Are your brothers voting for Trump?”

“Oh, I seriously doubt that they’d ever vote for Trump.  They’d write-in Michael Moore before they’d vote for a republican.  Besides, Michigan already had its primary.”

“Oh, good,” she said, visibly relaxing.  “Who won?”

“Trump and Sanders,” I informed her with a disbelieving shake of my head.

“Sanders?” she asked.  “Which one is he?”

“He’s the old socialist running against Hillary.”

“Well what the heck is the matter with everybody in Michigan?” she exclaimed.  “I can’t believe I used to live there.  I’d be turning over in my grave if I was dead!”

“Well now you can just turn over in your bed,” I chuckled as I walked away to join Bill back in the kitchen.

“I guess so.  In fact, that’s a good idea.  I’m going to take a nap and try to forget about all of this stupid politicky stuff,” she exclaimed as she pushed up from the loveseat and plopped down on the wheelchair seat.

“Okay, see you later.  I’m sure you’ll forget all about it by the time you wake up,” I called after her.

“What?” she yelled, a few seconds later from the hall.  “Forget about what?  Did I forget something?”

“No, Mom,” I laughed, shouting back.  “Nothing important.”



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