My second updated Dante sin is Trumpession. What? Well might you ask. Trumpession is the black cloud so many of us felt from that awful moment around ten p.m. on Election night when the count indicated that No, Hillary was not the sure bet so many of us had assumed. I, personally, was so upset even before the final verdict, that I forced myself to take a pill and try to sleep immediately. From the next morning on, and for many days, I was emotionally paralyzed. Oh yes, I marched, I went about my essential chores, but was I alive? NO! I was a Stepford Robot in a bad, black, state of Trump-as-President- induced depression. At least half my friends have admitted to suffering the same symptoms. Well, let’s face it, fellow sufferers: We must not allow Trumpession to steal our lives away from us. Facts, press freedom, refugees—all these are in great jeopardy. We cannot allow our lives to fall prey; we cannot.
Please share your own story of this ‘horrible’ condition. Surely none of us wants to suffer this horrible [to use one of ‘He Whose Name Shall Not Be Uttered’s’ favorite words] Dantesques level of Hell!