No News from Doodlebud Island…by William F. Jordan
The small ticker-tape parade in honor of Hillary’s victory and celebration of our first female president was set to begin early on the morning following the election when we learned to our horror that a misfit had won the seat. Traumatized by this turn of events—or ‘Trumpatitized’ as someone pointed out, we canceled the parade, and any ideas of celebration turned into a wake. It was poor consolation to think that bigotry, ignorance, greed, and coarseness had finally found a uniting voice whose whole demeanor described an America none of us knew.
Well, we made short work of the tears and lamentations and collectively decided to march on Washington. But about then Hank Sternman reminded us that, after all, we live on an island that occupies its own tectonic plate; so we should simply weigh anchor and remove to a more suitable clime for whatever length of time it takes for impeachment proceedings to catch up with the man who could safely paraphrase Knute Rockne’s, ‘Win one for the gipper‘ to something more apropos, ‘Win one for the groper!’ “Arrogance and ineptitude are poor room-mates,” said Hank, “so, I’m betting he’s got a year-and- a-half, maybe two years.”
Buoyed by such sentiment, Islanders got right to work organizing ourselves, and the committee for locating a site from which we might want to return in four years actually reported on a desirable place—the leeward side of Tahiti—but about then we began to realize that separating ourselves from Sedona was easier said than done, while making passage arrangements with folks on tectonic plates between us and the gulf of Mexico promised to be formidable on egress and perhaps impossible on return. Besides, the Sedona city council was, to put it mildly, loath to lose Doodlebug as both a scenic attraction and tax base. To be candid, they were less concerned about the scenic attraction part. Too, the realization struck us that we were linked to our present location by all sorts of attenuating systems, not the least of which included mail and phone service, sewer lines, and garbage collection.
By this time, anger and disappointment had turned to mirth, the first evidence of which was in Cassandra Evans’ suggestion that inasmuch as we had already seceded from the union we should send notice that we would not be governed by alt-right people nor by the paleolithic scam artist himself. The notion of reactivating our nearly forgotten secession agreement won instant support although not with the idea we would send notice to anybody. Why, a thing like that could be entirely misconstrued and we might find ourselves confronted by hordes of NRA types happy to at last find use for their AK-47’s! In addition, some one might forget to deliver our mail! No, a thing like that to be enjoyed had to be kept quiet and celebrated clandestinely.
And we have.
Another source of amusement offered itself, the opportunity to identify potential members of a Trump cabinet just weird enough to fit in and not feel uncomfortable. Suggestions ranged through a list of oddball characters to certifiable nut cases, but the fun disappeared like the tendrils of morning mist in direct sun when the names of those actually being considered began to be circulated. There appeared to be no way for our kind of frivolity to top the actual clown show being staged.
As a people, we have been of the belief that right will prevail and that a caring universe will work things out for the benefit of mankind, but it has been difficult to impossible for us to continue to hold such views when confronted with what amounts to the celebration of ignorance and the blatant emergence of bias and hate. A ‘this, too, shall pass’ attitude is apparently all that’s left to us and others who believed we had evolved past the possibility of a government several degrees beyond absurd.
“An even more frightening reason for despair,” said Islander Sally Reed, “lies in the fact that so many Americans appear to have harbored resentments regarding minorities, sexual and religious preferences, the place of women, etc., and bigotry has found a new legitimacy!”
As disheartening as Sally’s words were, an honest look at things seemed to confirm her view. Only news of the plurality revealed in the popular vote provided any consolation. So, for once, the news from Doodlebug Island really does amount to little or nothing, and no one is more frustrated by it than we.
