Get Me Out of the American Bounce House. Please.

My anecdote to the insanity of the adult world is to hang out with kids because they’re not crazy, not yet anyway. Crazy is the mark of becoming an adult human primate. Sanity is the mark of being honest and down-to-earth which is what normal kids are. For example, when nine year old Travis tells me I have wrinkles, an accurate observation, my response, wanting to throttle him, is in fact, crazy. See how it works?

So when my girlfriend asked me if I wanted to help with her ten year old daughter’s birthday party, I said sure. Some honest fun. I can take it.

I got stuck in the bounce house. I wanted out. Inside were 20 or so kids I bounced around with and then being somewhat claustrophobic, I wanted the f out. I couldn’t figure out where the flap/door was because every time I went for it, I got bounced back, the kids ganging up on me, not letting me reach it, laughing their little sadistic asses off–look at the adult. Can’t get out of the bounce house.

And this is what it feels like to be in America now with the Trump presidency: you can’t get out of the gd bounce house. As soon as you think SOMETHING is going to happen with the Mueller investigation, it gets bounced back, away from the door, only to bounce closer again…and again and again. I can’t turn on the news anymore. Look at the paper. Is it that our system of justice is in total breakdown? I can’t roll through a stop sign but Trump can base American diplomacy upon whether he cuts a Trump hotel deal with Qater? And nothing happens to him?

I want out of the American bounce house. Please. Somebody. Let me out. Let us all out.

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