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I bring this up because we saw this particular Great Blue Heron in South Carolina this week-end, it was lovely.
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We returned to find Donald Trump is, somehow, the Republican Candidate for President of the United States. That is not lovely.
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Now I understand, at some level, the anger, frustration, puerile joy and addiction to commas that drives The Donald's backers. And, after the entire Republican Establishment convinced their own voters that experience and intelligence weren't important by nominating and then backing Sarah Palin, Republicans cannot say now, "Whoops - we lied to you when we nominated the Red Headed - Well Endowed Yosemite Sam - trust us, experience and temperament do count a bit in this job."
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But still, people. WTF?
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I wrote - then deleted - an entire refrain why I can't imagine him being President. Those that admire him will ignore or discount it and those that ares stunned know most of it.
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On some level I kind of love The Donald. He's funny and sassy and shakes things up. It's like cousin Trixy that has one too many cocktails at dinner and tells Aunt Betty that no one really likes the coconut in the jello, and Uncle Fred, for all that is holy, wash your hands after you pee. But I don't want drunk cousin Trixy to be President.