I can’t believe we’re back here again, and I can’t believe I have to repeat myself. But, I mean, come on, how much more can my intelligence be insulted by the level of discourse in American politics? It seems like every election cycle there emerges some real or potential threat to basic human dignity and common sense. Well, I said it when we elected George W. Bush, and I said it when people talked about Sarah Palin running for commander in chief, and now I am going to say it again. If Donald Trump becomes president, I shall be forced to talk incessantly about moving to Canada but then not really do it after all.
The mere fact that I must yet again face the idea of an invective-spewing blowhard getting within even eight feet of the Oval Office crushes my spirit. It robs me of my will to live. It creates a simmering, festering rage that I sometimes feel will leave me broken inside to the point of having to be institutionalized. I am certain this eventuality would leave me no option but to flee the land of my birth.
But, really, I mean, I just cleaned my apartment. And you know how good you feel when your apartment is really, really spotless? It’s almost as if you have a whole new place to live. It’s like that feeling of completion that comes over you when you finally get a big load of laundry done, except multiply that by, like, ten. When you’re in that kind of head space, it’s probably not the best time to make a big move to a foreign land.
And then you have to figure it’s going to cut down on my viability in a job search if I’m not Canadian. Plus, do I really want to quit my job? It’s a pretty good one. Thanks to Obamacare, my employer gave me a fairly decent health plan. Sure, it’s not free like in Canada, but still.
Oh, and I just switched cell phone providers and got this amazing new plan. How do I even know if I can get the same data rates in another country? I’d hate to think I would have to go through another whole thing with my phone.
To be honest, I’m the type of person who won’t even change his email address because the thought of cc’ing everybody just to let them know I’ve changed it is too much of an effort to bear. Yes, yes, the thought of my country being ruled by a reactionary dimwit who symbolically disembowels everything I stand for is also too much to bear, but maybe not as bad as the trauma of having to copy everybody in my address book.
And, let’s be up front about it, those metaphorical slaps in the face, those affronts to my sensibilities are already proffered by our representatives and media pundits hourly. Between letting everybody know how outraged I am and screaming in fury at the preaching-to the-choir memes that my friends forward me on Facebook, I have my hands full.
So it is that I feel reasonably secure in re-stating my firm, unshakable position on this issue. If America actually elects Donald Trump as president, I am going to stay here. While loudly and continually telling everybody that I plan on leaving.
That’ll teach ’em.
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