Why I CANNOT Vote For Donald Trump

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I cannot vote for Donald Trump. My reasons are not high-brow or intellectual. Still, I have put a great deal of thought into them. I hope my tribe of liberals can forgive me.

Putting Trump’s message and his demagoguery aside, my reasons have more to do with his hair and his love of self-tanner, than they do with his political beliefs. On the face of it, a person’s appearance may seem like a shallow reason not to vote for him. Stay with me, though, it will all make sense in the end.

His absolute insistence on maintaining a bad haircut says a great deal about him, both as a person and as a leader. His commitment to embracing something that is so clearly wrong, something that he could very easily change, does not scream “I like my hair and I am leaving it as it is!”. Rather it says, “I’m not taking suggestions from the crowd.”

This is a fine attitude for a rock band who does not want to play “Freebird” to adopt, but not the attitude that a person who wants to lead a country should embrace. Leading is as much about recognizing situations where compromise may be in order as it is about being in charge.

It has not gone unnoticed that plenty of dictators throughout the course of history were also in possession of bad haircuts. Hitler. Stalin. Kim Jong-Il.

We all have a bad haircut story. Bad haircuts are part of life. Most of us, though, have the sense that God gave a cow and we do something about it OR we, when we can, wear a hat. At the very least we explain our bad haircut. “I had a groupon” pretty much says it all.

Even though he is a billionaire, I would still accept the groupon explanation. Frugality is not a bad thing.

The very fact that he has failed to demonstrate any common sense where his hair is concerned has always troubled me. In fact, he is pretty resolute on the hair thing. Even prior to listening to his rhetoric this political season, I could not get behind anything he said or did because I could not get past the message his hair puts out.

I do not believe for a minute that his children, a couple of whom seem like sensible people, have never looked him in the eye and said, “Your hair is crazy, Dad!” I know mine would. I wouldn’t get away with sporting that look for a minute!

Are we supposed to believe that his daughter, Ivanka, a woman with a successful fashion line has failed to have any conversation with her father about his hair? The more likely scenario is that he has just refused to listen.

It is hard to fathom that a woman who puts her name on some very fine products—have you seen her shoes?—has not taken the opportunity in a quiet moment to have a frank discussion with her father about his hair. I would never expect her to go public with this information, though. I feel certain that she feels awful about her inability to convince him to make a change.

I know that I would. I also know that I would be shaking my head and telling my father that “it’s not a trademark, Da, it’s a hot mess!”

The Donald has fancied this bad comb-over with a mind of its own style for years. The self-tanner, though, that is more recent. I can understand a person who wants to have a healthy glow without subjecting themselves to harmful UV rays. I can understand a person on a budget who ducks into the local CVS and plops down the ten bucks for the self-tanner that she can afford. What I cannot understand is how Donald Trump, a billionaire who is running for President of The United States, thinks that the best place to cut corners, financially-speaking, is in the self-tanning aisle.

It is not. It is just not. His orange face in combination with that awful hair does not project self-confidence; it projects his inability to recognize bad decisions.

He has managed to be in out of a several marriages, though. He does not seem to have the same level of commitment to the women in his life as he has to the misguided belief that he looks fantastic.

He looks orange. He looks weird.

He looks very much like the crazy person that he has turned out to be.

Still, even had he not proved himself to be an authoritarian, hate-spewing, violent reactionary with no real qualification for public office, I still would not be voting for him. Because of the hair. Because of the self-tanner.

Shallow though my reasons may be, I think I have a point, don’t you?

 

Photo Credits:

Trump Looking Orange

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Things I Will Never Understand (10/1/12)

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A woman in upstate New York started a “snuggling” business.
She charges $60/hour.
Tempting.
Probably not for someone like me, though.
Sometimes hand-shaking feels a little too intimate.

For more on this story, go here: http://www.13wham.com/news/local/story/snuggle-rochester/wrg5EpADFEqvTFKOkEJ-jA.cspx

Things I Will Never Understand (9/18/12)

Forget the fact that it would seem that no one, including the organizers, has any idea what The Occupy Wall Street movement wants.
It’s all very vague.
And smacks of Socialism.
Which I’m generally in favor of, but I just can’t wrap my mind around the thinking here.
If a big campout was what they were after I would imagine there would have been better ways and better places to accomplish this.
Like, Miami.

Let’s concentrate for a moment on the logistics of this thing.
Yesterday these folks tried to occupy Zuccotti Park in Lower Manhattan once again.
They brought their tents and, presumably, their pee bottles.
They were denied.
I’ll bet many were somewhat relieved.

Who decides to start camping out in the Northeast in late September? It’s rainy. And cold.
It’s like deciding to invade Russia in the Winter.
Decidedly NOT a great idea. History bears this out.
Why didn’t they do this back in the Spring and Summer?
And what do they hope to accomplish?

I think that they have successfully raised awareness regarding the disparity of wealth in America.
I’ve seen no evidence that anyone has made any demands or even suggestions about how to rectify this.
What’s the plan?

At least Hitler and Napoleon had a plan.
In classic “Pinky and the Brain” fashion they wanted to take over the world.
Russia, being a large part of the world and a gateway to Asia, was necessary to their success (and, ultimately, the reason for their failures).
Zucotti Park?
I’ve lived here all my life and had never heard of it.
I still don’t know exactly where it is.

I understand the number of protestors has dwindled.
I’ll bet.
Soldiers have to follow orders.
Out-of-work twentysomethings?
They just follow Twitter.

Things I Will Never Understand (9/14/12)

This reminds me of the time when we got a new computer system and a new bartender, almost simultaneously.
One of the first things we were told and one of the first things I told this woman was that whatever you entered in the NAME area would appear on the check.
It’s common to identify people, rather than name them. Sometimes I would just enter “GREY GOOSE” or “3 BRUNETTES” or “BIRTHDAY BOY”. You can see where I’m going here.
She wrote “FAT CHICK IN HAT”. That was the last thing she ever entered into that computer.
You can imagine the hullaballoo, I’m sure.
This idiot has, evidently, moved to Queens and has taken a job at Hooters.

For more on this story, go here.

Things I Will Never Understand (9/4/12)

I have never purposely watched a single episode of one of the television programs devoted to these hideous children’s pageants. My daughter used to watch one of them; I would make her turn it off when I was in the room. To me, this is a form of child abuse, on so many levels.

I understand that there is a new one about a kid called “Honey, Boo Boo”. The people at work talk about it constantly. I cannot imagine how bored and lazy I would have to be to waste my time on this drivel. Read a book! (Even one of those “50 Shades” things would be an acceptable alternative to this shit.) Or, get up and make a pie or clean out your sock drawer. Something. Anything. If people stop watching this programming, they will stop making it.

And don’t even get me started on the whole “Real Housewives of…” nonsense. I am a real housewife of New Jersey. They should follow me around for a day while I do actual “housewifely” stuff, like the never-ending laundry, your basic “let’s just keep it roto-virus free” cleaning, grocery shopping on a limited budget, cooking for the two pickiest eaters on earth (who, by the way, almost never want to eat the same thing on the same night), scheduling doctor’s/dentist’s appointments around work, field hockey, school, etc., rescheduling those same appointments twice because they conflict with something I was not informed of in advance, caring and grooming for an aging cat, and working full-time as a waitress (yeah, let’s not forget that important piece of my day). I’m tired just typing this shit.

I might tune in to one of these “Housewife” programs if there was a promo that showed one of these women with a toilet brush in her hand.

Things I Will Never Understand (8/31/12)

This one is literal.
I do not understand southern accents.

It sounds like someone is speaking through a mouth full of cotton balls.
At the speed of light.

I work with a woman who is from Georgia and she talks to me incessantly in that drawl that she has.
I shake my head and smile A LOT.

Sometimes she calls me very early in the morning.
I worry that I inadvertently agreed to pull a bank heist with her the night before.

Usually she just wants to go for pancakes.
I’m generally so relieved that I find myself at IHOP with her.
I don’t understand her any better there.
I’m sure the syrup doesn’t help.

I almost never talk to her on the phone.
When I do I feel like I only understand about 50% of the conversation.

Oddly enough, she also texts in drawl.
Again, I might get about half of what she is trying to say.

I don’t like those odds.
At all.

Things I Will Never Understand (8/30/12)

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I despise that I have to spend even one minute in this store. I don’t understand where I went wrong as a parent; I thought I was raising a nonconformist feminist. I was wrong.

Because I am, on occasion, forced to endure shopping at Hollister*, I have made the following observations:

This place is designed to make it so you want to leave. Immediately. It’s too dark, it’s too loud, and it smells horrible. It’s hard for me to understand how they do any business at all, never mind the booming business that seems their norm. Walk into this place and you would be hard-pressed to make the argument that we are in the midst of a recession.

It has one dressing room with two teeny-tiny cubicles. Granted, the average female customer is a size 3, but still.

My daughter, who is an athletic and healthy size 5 (sometimes a 7, depending on the store— wanna guess what size she is at this store?), looks like the “before” shot of Kirstie Alley in the Jenny Craig ads, you know, how she looked before she lost what an average kindergartner weighs.

They are required to wear flip flops as part of their uniform (okay, maybe I’m just jealous).

That stupid screen showing some California “surfer beach” in “real time”; I’ve never seen evidence of anyone actually surfing. What you usually see are a bunch of people milling about in the shallow water or walking along the shore. I don’t think I have ever seen an actual wave. For crying out loud, find a more exciting beach for your “live feed” or show “Point Break”. I’d rather watch Patrick Swayze and Keanu Reeves shirtlessly pretending to surf then the guy wiping the dripping ice cream off of his young child’s face.

Do these folks even know that everything they are doing on this beach is appearing at Hollister stores nationwide? If they do, I wonder if that guy I saw today (@12:30 pm PST/3:30 pm EST) would have given a little more thought to his choice of bathing suit. The hibiscus print was not designed for a man of his age or his size.

The prices. They are just ridiculous. Even the sale prices are too high.

*Feel free to substitute the hipster store of your choosing. They are all the same, really.

Things I Will Never Understand (8/28/12)

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Who watches this? Or it’s Democratic counterpart?

They are both foregone conclusions.

When was the last time that anyone was surprised by the results of either of these time and money wasters? Actually I know, but it doesn’t matter. The fact that it was a surprise led lawmakers to change the process, thereby assuring that wouldn’t happen again!

Please don’t tell me that it’s part of the democratic process or proscribed by The Constitution. It is neither.

Chris Christie may surprise you with his vision for the future of education. Not New Jerseyans though. Us? He surprised some of us. Not me, though. He hasn’t surprised me yet.

Things I Will Never Understand (8/27/12)

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What kind of a job could one hold down with these kind of nails? Clearly, she must be an heiress, though it appears that she’s driving a Toyota (I would recognize that steering wheel anywhere). Though I’m not sure what kind of an heiress would be driving a Camry. Maybe she’s a Japanese heiress? Yes. That must be it. She’s the Japanese heiress to the Toyota fortune. Well, now at least it makes a little sense.