Ten Years of Evil (and Redemption)

How I spent the last decade.

A decade. 3,653 days. Ten goddamn years.

Eighteen percent of my life.

It’s been exactly ten years (yes, to the damn day) since that howling void of need and ego descended the faux-gilded escalator in Trump Tower like a bloated Macy’s balloon inflated with bile and self-regard. Ten years since a professional con man, reality TV sideshow geek, and would-be strongman opened his slurring mouth and vomited out the words that began the longest, dumbest, cruelest psychodrama in modern American political history.

Since then?

America has lived in a political Chernobyl, where the reactor melted down and the men responsible stripped off their radiation suits and started licking the control rods for fun. “So what if we burn it all down, as long as it owns the libs?” “How bad is the fascism?” “3.6…not great, not terrible.”

We know his story. This is, well, mine.

It’s been a long, terrible decade.

Ten years of lies ranked above law. Ten years of hate placed above humanity. Ten years where truth became treason and decency became weakness. Ten years of corruption and corrosion in the White House.

Ten years where every troglodytic fantasy of incel fascists, paranoid racists, and little men with giant inferiority complexes strutted center stage—jackbooted and unashamed.