Trumpy Nightmares

Life begins on the other side of despair.
— Jean-Paul Sartre

As I write this account of the hike, the world is about to move into the uncertainty of a Trump presidency.  To be honest, I am happy that Trump won.  America needs a wake up call if we hope to survive this century.  America needs to feel a fever so powerful that it thrashes about in a sweaty nightmare, which frightens us all to our core.  We cannot live upon childish dreams of flowers and rainbows.  We need to watch our horizons bleed from cuts induced by the repetitive lashes of a tyrannical narcissistic beast.  We need to have clouded dreams.

Skepticism is the first step on the road to philosophy.
— Denis Diderot

And what if all the steps are skeptical? What if the very definition of humanity is encased in cynicism? My mentor is Nietzsche, and he taught me to doubt everything, even philosophy. And, now, how can I believe in anything when a clown such as Trump is elevated to president of the USA? I continually ask myself: why? Why that’s why. The president of the USA is comparable to the habit of shitting every day. It is a nasty smelly affair that is, for reasons escaping me, important in life, but certainly not something you should define your life by. The only answer to why is to be even more skeptical.


Yes, the road is narrow and walled in by nasty bushes, but it has always been so. Tear the fuckers down so we can have room enough to build a greater road. Even if it is in our imagination, it is better than having one’s life defined by the foul need to shit out the remains of simple-minded clowns like The Donald and his minions. Just keep the mantra alive: Why Donald Trump? Don’t bother with why. Just tell him to go fuck himself. Really, it is the only person he loves anyway.