They’re not upset about his racism, his coziness with White Nationalists, his affairs, his pussy-grabbing, his hush money payments, his policy ignorance, his infantile tweets, his shady business dealings, or his constant lies. None of that truly bothers them.
But asking questions about Trump’s action? Trying to discover the truth? That’s what gets them more riled up than anything else. It’s not about Jesus. It’s not about ethics. It’s not about a policy decision. These Christians only care about political power. The idea that they might lose it — and the steady stream of young unqualified right-wing judges who will rubber-stamp the Religious Right’s legal wishlist — is the only thing that matters to them.
It wouldn’t be a wedding without a sloppy drunk woman accusing us of stealing her purse. We take it in stride, every situation presents unique challenges. Tonight’s drunk accused staff of stealing her purse while she went to the bathroom. “I left it on table 6, a black designer bag with $300 cash and all my ID. I was gone 2 minutes, one of you stole it” she slurred. Dead set on accusation, sloppy drunk unleashed a torrent of “you’d better fucking find it”. We didn’t touch your purse!
Sensing sloppy drunk’s looming meltdown, boyfriend trumpets “this is fucking serious, which one of you stole her purse? Hand it over now!” Emboldened by her partner’s bravado, sloppy drunk parrots “fucking serious”. Hysteria escalates, she’s wailing incoherent protestation. Rage pulsates from boyfriend’s throbbing temples, “she was gone 2 minutes, who the fuck stole her purse?”
Instead of laughing or calling security to escort the lovely couple out, I ask a server to check the bathroom. Sure enough, “stolen” purse rested where sloppy drunk left it – top of toilet paper dispenser inside a bathroom stall.
Did they apologize? Nope! They accused “thief” of planting it and stormed out. Sigh. So ends another day at the office.