Donald Trump is not a joke

My takeaway from last night’s presidential debate. I’m scared for this country.

I’m sick and tired of Donald Trump memes tonight. Sorry that it hurts your feelings when I don’t laugh at some photo you captioned with Trump’s wives and daughters covering their crotches and standing next to him. Sorry I don’t laugh at your pussy jokes.

Donald Trump is not a joke.

He is a menace.

He is a rapist.

He is a misogynist.

He is a racist.

He is a madman.

He is literal scum.

I get it. Humor is your coping mechanism. You just can’t find any other way to express your anger at all of the terrible shit he says. I get it. I’m tired of it too. There is a place for humor in the midst of chaos and destruction and abominable acts. But not yet. Not while we’re still in the woods, still ensnared in Trump’s god-awful political campaign.

So do me a favor.

Save your memes, and your t-shirts, and your hilarious parodies for AFTER the election. We can laugh at Trump later, when he is forced to take his petulant attitudes and willful ignorance and perpetual sniffling away from the White House. We can dismiss Trump when a competent president takes the Oval Office, when America is not great again, but safe again.

Right now, I need your anger. Show me your rage, your unbridled indignation, your agony, your fierce hatred for every fucked up thing Trump says and does. Don’t let him off the hook. Don’t write him off. He’s not harmless. He’s still a threat. He’s not a punchline, he’s a ticking time bomb.

I don’t need your jokes tonight, I need your righteous fury.

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