I was stunned! So stunned that it took me the better part of a week to write anything on the subject at all. I only watched the TV news on November 9th long enough to see the graphic check mark and a number “289″ beside Trump’s face for me to realize that from there forward only very bad, very disturbing news would be likely to follow for the next four years. I have not watched the TV news since then.
I won’t go on about why it was a bad choice for the Americans to make. All of Trump’s opponents had listed his obvious flaws. He was elected because of his obvious flaws. Enough said on that topic. Enough painful truth.
What I’m about to tell you is entirely fabrication. It’s fiction. I made it up. Donald Trump did not fly his private jet into the tiny airport in London, Ontario. He did not send his henchmen, oops, I meant to say, ‘assistants’ to my home to bodily pick me up, force me into a big, black, armoured vehicle and take me to a meeting room at the airport. They did not threaten me with, as they did not call it, “extermination,” before his holy orange majesty entered the room, scowling at me as he plopped his royal substantiveness onto a chair and leaned menacingly across a table. He did not spit on me and say, “”You snivelling little prick! What do you think gives you the right to speak so disparagingly about me?”
I did not try to invoke my first amendment rights as guaranteed by the U.S. Constitution, the right to free speech. I’m a Canadian. Apparently I have no such constitutionally-protected rights. I have them in Canada of course, protected by our constitution. I can call our Prime Minister bad names if I wish to do so, but Trump, who was not there, didn’t raise a significant concern about nationality. He didn’t say, “Let me tell you, pumpkin, I’ve got enough firepower on-board that little jet out there to down the entire, puny Canadian F**king Air Force.” (I didn’t think to myself, “Who’s calling who a ‘pumpkin’?” Nor did I think, “Well isn’t that the Trump calling the pumpkin orange?”)
Of course, none of this happened. He didn’t come here, he didn’t threaten me, his cadre isn’t watching me. It’s just that, well, you know, people are saying things. I can’t control what other people say. If other people insist that his jet was seen at London airport or that a big, black, heavy, mysterious vehicle was seen at my address and that I was seen being hustled by the arms into that vehicle, how can I convince you that those people who are saying such things are either lying or mistaken?
Please believe me! It didn’t happen! My life depends upon your believing me!