I should be happy

It’s a gloomy and rainy post-election day morning. The electorate chose Donald Trump to be their next President, a man who seems deeply flawed to me.

But then it occurred to me: I should be happy. I’m happy that I’m not Muslim, I’m not gay, I’m not Black, and I’m not Hispanic.

I’m not one of the 20 million people dependent upon Obamacare. I am not of child-bearing age, so I’m not one of the thousands of young women dependent upon Planned Parenthood (which will surely be defunded) for legal abortions, prenatal care, and well-woman check-ups.

I’m old enough that I won’t live to see the damage that will ensue when environmental regulations are rolled back.

Trump has promised my neighbors that he will bring back their coal and steel jobs.

He has promised to eliminate crime “on day one.” Plus, they no longer have to worry about Hillary Clinton taking away their hunting rifles.

That sounds good, right?

I’m just an old white lady who lives on Social Security and my meager earnings.

What can he do to me?

I should be happy. So why am I so despondent?

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