How did you sleep after that convention last night, America? It was so reassuring you would have thought I would have slept like a toddler after a too tall dose of Benadryl, but I didn’t.
I had bad dreams AGAIN last night. And the nightmares were even worse. My friends Krystal and Jennifer were there in my dream, stuck in the flying hell with me, and I woke up just terrified. I mean they’re constant and awful and I can’t figure it out. But this morning, I was still drinking coffee with a little hope in my heart. Because I was laughing at the Tim Kaine “dad” jokes — they’re fabulous.
Like, Tim Kaine is that dad that comes downstairs just to see how your sleepover is going — oh, he made nachos, he’ll just leave them on the ping pong table.
Or this one: As Joe Biden’s Trans Am is getting ready to pull out of the vice president’s residence, don’t worry, America, Tim Kaine’s minivan is here to stay.
Or Tim Kaine most definitely knows the difference between every day Dockers and the “dress” ones.
Now, you don’t have to like Obama. You don’t have to agree with Obama. Hell, you don’t even have to respect Obama (well, you do to be my friend). But after this week, as an American, if you still irrationally hate Michelle and Barack Obama, on the inside, you are just a miserable, miserable person that has some soul-searching to do.
You don’t hate them. You, clearly, hate yourself.
Even Never-Trump Conservatives were giving the president praise.
The same can be said about Tim Kaine. The internet fell in love with him. Or as one put it, he’s like that high school teacher that tells really terrible jokes — but is also the reason you got to go to college.
America has always chosen hope and opportunity over despair. There were always voices that chose to rise up even when others kept them oppressed. That is our history as a people.
And to those who mock people that shed tears at political rallies (I’m not talking about the sobbing, outrageously over the top, selfish Bernie or Bust crybullies, because I was mocking them too), I say this — every four years we get together to celebrate the privilege and the power and the gift of living in the greatest nation on Earth. And if your political party doesn’t move you to shed a few tears, they’re not doing it right.
Patriotism doesn’t mean you drape yourself in the American flag (because I remember being told it’s not supposed to be worn, anyways) while working to fight against benefits for veterans and those who struggle. Patriotism means showing up every day to celebrate democracy and to do your part to further the American dream. And if that gift isn’t worth shedding a few tears over, then I don’t know what would be.