A candidate for the presidency must be at least 35 years of age, a natural born citizen and fourteen years a resident within the US. That’s it. There are no other requirements. It’s harder to become a US citizenship than to become president. For non native born folks, citizenship requires background checks and english and civic tests. Heck, virtually every job imaginable has more exacting standards. The vast majority of us had to undergo some sort of application process in which we list educational background and relevant experience. There is usually some sort of interview process. Sometimes we have to fill out a personality assessment questionnaire. On rare occasion an I.Q test. When you think about it, becoming president is not unlike being a day laborer. Yes, you must stand for election, but the lack of qualifications has the whiff of standing on the corner hoping that you don’t come across as some sort of crazed potential serial killer. If you can keep your shit together just long enough, if you can look a bit better than the other folks standing on the corner, you get the call and told to jump into the flat bed of the owners truck. Needless to say, day laboring is a more honorable profession than politics.

It’s been nearly six months since the election, over one hundred days into his administration, but I still catch myself thinking that the Trump presidency is all part of some intensely bad dream or drug reaction. There is no other explanation. Besides, things have seemed somewhat off at times. I’m not seeing things clearly. Besides Trump, there have been other signs. The other day I went to the doctor and had to pick up a prescription after. At least I thought it was the other day, I just don’t know. Anyway, I was on the line at the pharmacy and I noticed a woman with a baby. I love babies! Usually the sight of a baby causes me to spontaneously smile. But this baby looked odd to me. Unnatural, perhaps demonic. I wanted to tell the woman that something was wrong with her baby. But I couldn’t help but think that my thoughts were irrational. The lucid part of me thought that the baby was not really demonic. It was me, something was wrong with me. I resisted the urge to speak, still waiting behind them. But the baby knew that I knew! He flashes me an evil grin, the freaking kid taunted me. Who is the mother going to believe, the large addle brained man behind her or her own cute progeny? That evil baby knew that he had the upper hand. He showed me his true nature, the part he keeps hidden from his mother. I knew he was evil, but there was a small part of me that was not entirely sure that any of it was real. I wanted to scream out a warning, but I suppressed myself. I was just far enough gone to see this child’s true nature, but not so far gone that I felt comfortable potentially exposing my delusion.

But I digress. I know I am was not right in the head. Was the baby even there?! Everything was off, out of sync. Trump is part of that bad trip. His presidency is no more real than the baby is demonic.

But why do I need for Trump’s presidency to be unreal? It’s probably for the best that I resisted the urge to warn that poor lady about her demon spawn. He wasn’t actually doing anything demonic, he just showed me his true form. If I said anything the woman would not have believed me and there is a chance that they would have carted me off right there and then. Clearly I was having trouble separating truth from reality, or at least I allowed for the possibility. If he were doing anything truly evil someone else would have noticed. But everyone else appeared to act as if everything was normal. No, under those circumstances it is best to play it safe. Crap, maybe everyone else was thinking what I was thinking, that if the baby were truly evil others would have noticed? Now I’m not so sure it wasn’t real. For all I know, the entire room saw the flash of evil I saw in the kid’s eyes but kept quiet because no one else seemed bothered. I need to check the news for stories about a baby going on a killing spree

I still can’t keep it together. This was about Trump. What does an evil baby have to do with Donald Trump?! Now I remember, if I was hallucinating about the baby maybe I’m also hallucinating about Trump? But I do yell out, “he’s freaking unqualified,” “Trump is evil,” “this can’t be happening!” Others are also yelling out. Does the fact that others are experiencing the same delusion make it any less delusional? Or does the fact that I am aware that others are commenting make the Trump situation more real than the demonic baby? Has the experience with the baby taught me a psychological lesson? Does my subconscious now incorporate ratification by others as a way to convince me that my delusion is real? Is Hillary Clinton President?

This is all very weird. I think I understand why I pondered the qualification issue. I think I was trying to answer the delusion by thinking about the fact that Donald Trump is completely unqualified to be president. But that does not matter, you don’t have to be qualified to be president. The fact that this country never elected someone so manifestly unqualified does not alter that reality. I can find no solace in his lack of qualifications. I cannot use that information to jolt myself from whatever weird trip has seized me.

Unfortunately, I don’t think I will ever really know the truth.