The signs at the NO KINGS march said it all; everyone hates Trump. Older people came out in force with their canes, their walkers, and their fury. Younger people in their teens and twenties showed up too, disturbed that an 80-year-old nut job with dementia could affect their futures. Everyone was united in their mutual hatred of the orange non-people person, the fucked-up person who is not a normal person. Fuck Trump.
I’m a big protestor; I go to all of them. I know, get a life.
I went to my first march on January 21, 2017, the day after Trump’s first inauguration, where all the girls wore pink hats. It’s been 9 years of Trump’s domestic abuse; no wonder we’re all exhausted.
I know I’m not the only one who can’t stand looking at that mess of a face anymore. His absurd bronzer looks like it’s from a line of men’s makeup for seniors called “Kentucky Fried Honky.”
So it always makes me feel better to go and chant FUCK TRUMP over and over with thousands of other people who also can’t stand him. It’s fun.
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