I’m going to take a cue from my dating days and keep my expectations for this administration, much like first-date expectations, below sea level.

With the crustaceans and plankton.

That way, while I can and always will be shocked, dismayed, and horrified, I will at least never be disappointed. And avoiding disappointment, the worst of all the feelings, is the key to surviving and keeping your eye on the prize*!

*The “prize” in dating was finding Eric. I don’t know what the prize is here. Surviving? Not turning into a pessimistic dick bag? Going high when they go low, even though they go low every. fucking. time? Hoping he’ll die of natural causes because he’s sort of old to be president? Not becoming the kind of person who hopes someone will die?

Yeah I don’t know this whole thing just fell apart.