Day one. March 6, 2017. Unofficial start of the countdown until the end of the Trump debacle.

Until he is no longer cheapening the office of president.

Until he is no longer setting the bar for the presidency so low that everyone at the corner store wonders about the moment when they decided not to run.

Until we don’t have to check the news each day to find out what ridiculous, soul-leaching, life draining policy he and his dinosaurs have proposed or even implemented today.

Until we can disconnect and scrub off and buff up the beleagered word “president” from the overused, bloviating and emptily posturing word trump, and move on with the good stuff, the intergalactic, interdimensional, cosmoecological, colorless conscious flowstate interconnectedness that is our human birthright.

Day one, not sure how many more to come, but the extent of these retractionist reductionist retroactive days are now officially numbered.

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