When I saw Joel Pett’s cartoon highlighting the plight of the 66-million majority who have sunk into depression since Donald Trump’s election night victory, I experienced a very visceral reaction.
Try as I might, I could not suppress the single, glistening tear that eased its way past my eyelid and trickled onto my trembling cheek. Yet, as poignant as the cartoon was, to me it did not seem sufficient to address the level of angst involved. Surely a more specific plan must be found lest this significant portion of the electorate slip further into a morass of despondency due to circumstances they could not foresee and cannot now fathom.
Perhaps arrangements can be made for the most depressed among them to immigrate to Punxsutawney, Pa. where they could shelter in place for a seasonal respite, emerging only on Groundhog Day to test the national temperature before deciding if six more weeks of cocooning is needed.
After all, what would you do if you were stuck in one place and every day was exactly the same, and Trump was still president, and nothing that you did mattered?
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