If either Don or I started spiraling into despair, the other would remind them of our family motto, which we debuted during this process:
By the second trip to Russia, we'd had it honed down to something like:
Meg, with tears in her eyes: What is even happening?! What is going on!? I don't understand any of this!!
Don: Where's your towel?
Meg: Got it.
Panic, dear readers, is as helpful as a waterproof towel. Panic has never helped anyone. Panic doesn't spur people to action, it drives them under the covers. Don't Freaking Panic.
So, what I said above about our pain being little more than distant noise? Sound familiar? I think my three or four readers are probably largely in agreement than in the weird little mind of Donald Trump, people only begin (and only just begin) to exist when they enrich or flatter him. The rest of us are just distant noise.
And this is scary. And even scarier having come from such a hoopy, frood president to such a strag teaser of one (note: the Google spellchecker really struggles with Hitchhiker slang). But we cannot panic because panic doesn't help.
These two things do: action and humor. Be active in our democracy and, for the love of Zaphod Beeblebrox, keep your damn sense of humor. It'll be hard. I know. As the wonderful Charlie Pierce said, it's a long push up a dirt hill. But we're gonna pepper up that long push by throwing sand in the gears wherever we can. And having a little fun while we do it.
(You know what's fun? Wonkette is fun. And if you subscribe for $5 a month, you can have guilt-free fun. Just doing some little pimpin' for a fun website.)
Keep calling your senators and your congresspeople. I know, we didn't stop anyone in Trump's Cabinet of Vogons from getting in (I'm fully committed to Hitchhiker metaphors now). But, dammit, we're going to make their jobs a lot harder. We're all hitchhikers in this weird, wonderful temporarily (TEMPORARILY!) Trumpian nation and all fully equipped with wily, silly, survival-y, towel-y, non-panicky brilliance. Remember that that ridiculous Betsy DeVos is no longer limited to an audience of thirsty whores who fawn and flatter with their palms out. She's got to deal with teachers and parents now. You know what parents and teachers have limited patience for? Devos' bullshit, that's what.
President Pussygrabber has filled his Cabinet with people who got where they are by throwing money at grateful and graceless hustlers. But now they have an engaged and active population ready to go. And they ain't never dealt with that.
Make fun of the ridiculous person that our president is and the equally ridiculous people he's surrounded himself with. Don't cower in fear of those ridiculous people. Laugh at them. Call up the people who work for you and remind them that they work for you and that you're paying attention. Do stuff.
And be nice to everyone else. And read Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy.