You’ve really done it this time, Dave.
Dave was tired.
The presidential debate on Tuesday night was nothing short of pure, unbridled trash. Dave watched it alone and much to his personal chagrin, without his cellphone (which was being repaired after he dropped it in the toilet while laughing hysterically at why the universe was punishing him); a good, upstanding 50-something who just wanted to livetweet his debate experience to his four followers (his seventeen-year-old son, his brother and two scantily clad Twitter bots).
As the debate went on, Dave grew angrier and angrier. He was furious at what the nation had come to. President Trump was the arbiter of this category five crisis and, at that moment, he felt powerless to do anything about it.
“I’ve done it all. I’ve posted the black square on Instagram. My first cousin three times removed went to a protest. I even donated twenty bucks to a charity one time!” Dave announced to no one, his La-Z-Boy groaning under the sheer weight of Dave’s passionate political fervor. “There’s only so much to do, I mean, we’re in a pandemic after all.”
When Donald Trump refused to condemn white supremacy, Dave saw red. This racist, bigoted, downright sorry excuse for a President couldn’t even do the bare minimum. He couldn’t say: “I condemn white supremacy.” It was infuriating.
As the moderator began his closing statements, Dave rushed upstairs to his study with laptop in hand. His fingers preceded his mind as he logged into his Facebook account.
The “Write a post” button was beckoning him, winking at him, seducing him. It was simply begging for Dave’s astute political commentary. His posts were almost always liked by someone which, in Dave’s mind, meant he had a “platform to utilize.”
“It’s my duty, as a white man with more privilege than anyone else, to use my platform to enlighten people,” Dave said. He’d practiced that line in the mirror many times, almost always struggling at the “privilege” line.
Dave knew what he had to do. He racked his brain, desperate to find the words to describe the horrors he had just witnessed. Racist? Bigot? Imbecile? A threat to democracy?
“I don’t know what to say, honestly, but I know I have something to say. I’m gonna lay it on thick tonight,” Dave muttered to himself. There were so many offenses he could point out: the innumerable coronavirus deaths, the racist rhetoric, the empty promises. Finally, his eureka moment was upon him. Smiling, he carefully typed his well-worded, eloquent takeaway that would encapsulate all of his frustrations from the debate and 2020:
“Ugh. Stupid Cheeto man.”
Written By: Isabella Chuecos –– email@example.com