Gabriella Demczuk/The New York Times
Welcome back! How was your holiday? Get anything good for Christmas?
Uh huh, uh huh.
It sure was nice to take a little break from the world, wasn’t it? Plowing through a mountain of cookies and burning through an entire fossilized brontosaurus herd in heating oil, as Santa intended?
But if you thought coming back to real life after a week spent in a frigid holiday stupor was challenging, then you are not President Donald Trump. Say what you will about the president: He appears to attack the post-holiday work week with unmatched vigor.
It was barely 7 a.m. and the dude already was back on his Barack B.S. For someone who spends so much of his waking life golfing, the president has surprisingly little chill.
That’s right, most of us hadn’t even boarded our trains this morning and the actual president was unironically following up a tweet about human rights abuses in Iran by calling for the actual imprisonment of a political opponent.
And can we lay off Huma, anyway? Her terrible, hopefully soon-to-be ex-husband Anthony Weiner is already in prison. Please don’t make her join him, she’s suffered enough.
On Tuesday, wading into his reliably bonkers Twitter feed after a week spent ignoring world news approximated the feeling of stepping naked out of a hot shower and directly into the 2-degree frozen hellscape from which we may never emerge.
But before most of us even had our first (Sad!) New Year’s resolution lunch, Trump had fired off nine tweets.
One was a two-parter, welcoming the new publisher of The New York Times by excoriating the paper’s journalists.
Come on man, how about a one-day holiday hangover grace period before you try to take credit for Making Air Travel Great Again, or whatever this tweet is even about? It was like two hours ago that we were all half-drunk, perched on a stepladder, trying to thaw our frozen water pipes with a hairdryer. We hadn’t looked at Twitter in days. It was bliss.
At barely 9 a.m., we’re supposed to contend with the leader of the free world claiming he somehow has kept planes from crashing? Really? First of all, nobody has died in an American commercial airline crash in several years, and second of all ... what? Our trash cans are still filled with wrapping paper. Our Christmas trees are still up. Our dogs are frozen to fire hydrants by their genitals, apparently. Can you not right now?
Wanna feel old? Christmas was 150 years ago.
Setting aside the weapons-grade nonsense here — this is the guy who ended the Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals program — let’s start small: If you could work on restoring the power to my aunt’s house in Puerto Rico, that would be great. I know it hasn’t even been four months yet, but this particular corner of America is not greatening at the promised pace.
Accidentally, with his final tweet of the morning, Trump reminded us that “checking out” is a luxury many of our fellow Americans do not enjoy. Whether they’re praying for the electricity to come back on or waiting to find out if they’ll be deported, Tuesday’s rude awakening was a lot like Monday’s and Sunday’s before it.
Fair or not, ignoring politics means ignoring those folks, too.
So, if you were one of the lucky folks who could afford to sit this stuff out for a little while, welcome back. It’s 2018, and we need you.
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