Today the 45th President of the United States (or POTUS as it is fashionable to call him [or her] these days) is inaugurated.
He and his vice-president (as it turns out, both are white protestant men, again) take their oath and swear to support and defend and do their job.
Then, the new president gives his speech.
I watch it all. I listen to it all.
The “inaugural address” is very hard-line. Very much a campaign promise speech. I believe it now, when they said he wrote it himself. It is very true to his entire campaign and all that he promised and spoke.
This is a great moment in history. Well, some of my friends and family would argue that no, it is not great. But it is historical. Tremendously – or terrifyingly, again, my nieces would say, terrifyingly historical. Hysterical.
Well, be that as it may, I still applied for a job with him. I wanted to work at the National Endowment for Arts, which I heard yesterday would be abolished, along with the National Endowment for Humanities.
Oh dear. I turn on my heel and rub my nieces bent noses into the mud.
It is raining today.
I don't even want to begin to tell you what my Mexican friends in Tijuana would think of me (if I told them, and well, I did not even want to tell you, but... the writing, you know, must go on).
I told them (the transition team) that I am a democrat. But I applied anyway. I want to go live in Washington and work for the artists.
You decide for yourself whether I am evil or not. My sea change may be a heel turn, and maybe not.
Here: some of the proof I sent of being a wonderful office worker and artist.
I also told him, I mean them, that I speak excellent Spanish. Maybe they (he) will appoint me ambassador to Mexico.
O sí pues entonces un chingo de changos van a volar de mi culo ja ja ja ja ja ja ja ja ja .