Despair doesn’t even begin to explain my current mood. I keep thinking I’ll wake up and this will be some terrible dream. Then I become more despondent wondering how this can possibly be my life now, how millions of voters could choose a convicted sexual abuser and convicted felon for the highest office in the land. It’s unlikely he’d be able to get a job at McDonald’s. Then my head fills with conspiracy theories. In normal times I wouldn’t believe them, but reality seems far too unbelievable at present. Instead, my mind begins creating a 1970-ish political thriller. It’s bleak, yet an image of a noble and handsome man, looking much like a young Warren Beatty with great wavy shoulder length hair, who is working to figure out what happened. The plot includes a cabal of wealthy industrialists with a puppet politician at the ready who will be put in place after the more troublesome winner is disposed of. There’s fraud by various accomplices along the way. Of course, to stay true to the 1