In the sad but excellent movie, Blood Diamond, gem smuggler Leonardo DiCaprio – in a charming South African accent – hisses to journalist Jennifer Connelly,

Well, off the record, I like to get kissed before I get fucked, huh.”

U.S. Election 2016 – There’s a frightening date rape happening right in front of our eyes at the quadrennial prom but everyone’s too sloppy drunk to know what to do about it.

Worse yet, the uncontrollable perpetrator is a terrible dance partner… there’s no waltzing sway or nuance or romance in his moves. He’s not even attempting to avoid crunching down on his partner’s feet.

It’s a terrifying dance with a whirling dervish; a bucket of pig’s blood spilled over Carrie‘s head in the high school gym.

So…. KISS US Donald

trump devil 2

I’ve tried so hard to stay positive.

I didn’t want to succumb to the temptation but I’m weak.

I’m so weak I really need you to pour me a strong latte right now to stay awake.

I try to be as optimistic as I can and avoid those things that might bring me down.

In days past I was attached at the hip to daily news reports and The Globe and Mail newspaper, but now I watch and read the world news sparingly because it gets inside my head and makes my brain cry.

Yet frankly I’ll admit that I have an inner urge to peer over the border at the twisted auto wreck on the southern side of the highway despite the terrible carnage that bombards my tender senses.

It’s like running with the bulls in Pamplona…

And so, here I am wanting to look away and yet I can’t. I’m mesmerized.

Donald Trump has me hooked in his misogynistic, bigoted, nasty and hateful universe. I keep orbiting back to peek in at the shit that spews from his oral orifice. It’s a Clockwork Orange reality show that gets more real each day.

clockwork orange

I get it that many people are angry, frustrated and feeling disaffected, but I still shake my head at the coming of the Trumpocalypse.

Such a short time back, the Trump cancer of self-importance began so innocently, so childishly naive, and then it caught on like a Fort McMurray wildfire and spread in a pernicious ugly growth that wouldn’t be halted.

Even the Republican firefighters have thrown up their hands in defeat, sat themselves down by the campfire with their marshmallow skewers and strong licker and accepted the fire that rages across the countryside.

As a Canadian watching on, I’d like to be oh-so casual like my cat Cali, disinterested and uncaring as a blitzkrieg of hatred and venom spews from the dragon’s pouty mouth. Still mesmerized.

If Canada elected a Trump (or perhaps a Harper), the world would barely take note. Big Deal! Business as usual in the universe.

But it scares me when the world’s one main superpower teeters on the edge of the precipitous cliff – all of humanity riding piggyback, scared – prepared to jump into the rocky abyss and in a fit of hateful anger, splatter us all in an shattered bloody heap on the spiky granite below.

In my reflections and dreams at night, I envision a different scenario. Yes, I have a dream.

Hillary dream

OMG! NOOOOOooo!! Not THAT Dream!!!

My dreamy scenario unfolds in a world where even more women are better educated, a world where women leaders hold greater sway, and a world with a greater sense of humour.

This world needs more women leaders – Thatcher aside – tough yet more compassionate commanders with an ability to empathize and smile and laugh and respect the dreams of others.

Trump-like leaders and followers (Trumpests? Trumperites? Trumpeters?) have had their historic day in the sunshine for millennia. The 50 Shades of Grey Dominants are archaic and drained of human hope.

Enough blood has been spilt on battlefields and in subways and in innocent marketplaces. Testosterone-laden speeches filled with threats of walls and anger and control are from a different era, a frightening era where we sent battalions of young boys to their brutal tearing-limbs-apart demise.

I’m a Pollyanna’ish kind of guy who believes a sense of humour makes the world a better place.

When we’re feeling low, what revives us better than a good hearty laugh. Norman Cousins showed it to be so in his book, Anatomy of an Illness… “I made the joyous discovery that ten minutes of genuine belly laughter had an anesthetic effect and would give me at least two hours of pain-free sleep” he reported.

The world we inhabit sleeps better when we understand each other better and can share food and smiles together… a world without walls.

Who watches a Donald Trump speech and finds something… anything… funny or humorous or enlightening in his words?

A nation is only as free as its sense of humour.

sense of humour.jpg

Before we go to bed tonight?

Before the lights go out and the party ends?

The last dance with THE DONALD beneath the worn disco ball should be SHUT UP and DANCE without ME. No Kiss for you Donald.

And then, maybe, before we slip off into dreamland?  We should all go outside and frolic and dance beneath the moon and catch fireflies and make the longest Slip-And-Slide EVER.

(NOTE to Self: You can lead a person to knowledge… but you cannot make them think)