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Tag: Trump

My Crisis of Comedy


Katie Goodman

In unfunny era, comedian talks me off the Ledge of No Laughter

All I ever really wanted to do was to make people laugh: Strangers in the PTA meeting at my son’s new school. Colleagues in a supposed-to-be-serious work meeting. The poor lady doing my mammogram. I especially love it when readers tell me they snorted so abruptly at the local café while reading this column that latte foam spewed from their nose. Propriety be damned, I sincerely believe it’s always the right time for humor.

Except … maybe … right now? Lately, in the face of political, social, and environmental crises, my life’s goal feels sort of futile. And worse than futile, it feels indulgent. Who wants to giggle and guffaw when every day’s news is more sobering than the last and the Amazon is burning, you guys? What could possibly be the value in wisecracking and wit slinging when we could be (should be!) phoning our senators, marching in the streets, shoveling money to sane candidates, maintaining a consistent “self-care” wine buzz and educating the shizz out of the next generation so they don’t wind up screwed and humorless like us?

Thank You, President Trump

#45’s Frequent Failings Take my Mind off my Tween

It’s a phrase you don’t hear often. His chiefs of staff don’t say it. The terrified people of Guam don’t say it. You’re unlikely to catch any endangered species cooing it. But I’m gonna say it, and I’m gonna say it loud: Thank you, President Donald J. Trump! You’ve done me a solid, and I’ll bet you don’t even know it.

Trump Makes Women Want to Run

That smug, can’t-catch-me grin. Those wee flailing hands, attempting to punctuate facts that don’t exist. That whiny voice huffing, “The biggest. Ever. Believe me.” I’ve long thought it true, but now statistics prove it:

There’s something about Donald Trump standing at the presidential podium that makes women want to run.

They’re not running away from politics, though; they’re sprinting toward it — in vast, pissed-off, let’s-do-this numbers. Attendance was 66 percent higher than usual at Rutgers University’s Center for American Women and Politics’ “Ready to Run” workshop in March, for women interested in seeking office; they had to turn folks away. EMILY’s list, a group that helps pro-choice Democratic women get elected, talked to 900 women who wanted to run during the 2016 election cycle; this year they’ve heard from 11,000.

Trump Plump: Post-Election Stress Eating Is a Thing

You used to be fun, they say. You used to make us titter with your escapist jaunts into the lighter side of life. What happened, a few restless readers have asked, to the ribald soccer-mom confessions and largely superficial rants about bass players and fallopian tubes?

Trump happened, you guys. He golden showered all over the fun.

I’m sorry if I’ve been weighing you down with ponderous political tirades. Now more than ever, we all need a moment’s respite from the political onslaught. And I want to offer you lighter fare; I do. But I’m just … heavier than I used to be.

See, I’ve put on a few pounds since Election Night from stress eating. And, okay, stress drinking. My husband deemed my new squishiness “Trump Plump,” and purely because I enjoy a good rhyme and a snappy hashtag, he is still among us. But I’m not alone in my plight. Though Lena Dunham claims election despondence killed her appetite and left her svelte, my friends and I have inhaled every last crumb of Lena’s untouched food and then some.

Parenting Under a Toddler-in-Chief

When you’re a kid, they tell you the greatest thing about this country is that absolutely anyone can grow up to be president and, even someone you’d never imagine.

And then he does.

Putting politics aside for a moment because I literally can’t even, let’s ruminate on basic human character, or the atrocious lack thereof. As a parent, the election of a pompous and petulant bully into the highest office in the land sets a tricky example for the spongy, observant little pre-people we are trying to usher thoughtfully into humanity.

We fear for immigrants and minorities, our health care, our press, and our planet, yes, yes, yes. But any parent who denies also being terrified of the long-term impact this clown’s clamorous invectives and derelict appointments will have on little Logan’s and Chloe’s psyches is telling a whopper of Trumpian proportions. I mean big league.  HUGE.

Post-Election: The 7 Stages of WTF?!

This isn’t how it was supposed to be. A week after the election, we were supposed to be celebrating in the streets, a jubilant, enlightened populace congratulating ourselves on having elected the most sensible, knowledgeable, and experienced candidate. Having spoken out for respect. And inclusiveness. One nation under Her, indivisible, with taco trucks and pantsuits for all.

Analysts will spend years unknotting how we got this so wrong; it may wind up in history books. What’s clear is we underestimated Americans’ dissatisfaction with the status quo — and overestimated their concern for anyone besides themselves.

So now we sit, slumped, humiliated as the rest of the world stares slack-jawed at our crude windbag of a choice. Our swaggering snake-oil salesman. Our callow narcissist. (Hi, Trump’s NSA. Are we doing this yet?)

How Trump Can Win Back Women Voters

Dear Mr. Trump,

You’re having trouble with women voters, and I just can’t stand it. A man with your confidence, your money, your charisma should be mopping the floor with the weaker sex. You’re a prime-time TV star! You’ve owned casinos, airlines, your own line of vodka. If you didn’t invent suave, then I’m sure you at least went bankrupt trying.

But your worries are over. I’m here to help you win over the broads. Like you, I’m known for speaking the plain truth: no mincing words, no pussyfooting. And I know a bottom-feeder — sorry! — I mean a brilliant leader when I see one, so I’m going to tell you how to get those surly, squawking suffragettes down on their knees begging The Donald to Make America Great Again™. Are you with me, big guy? Let’s do this!

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