Camp Trump

(Our intrepid HotFlash reporter travels to the future to check out the country after a 2016 Trump victory).

HotFlash: I’m here at one of the camps that Donald Trump has established for citizens of the United States after the attempted revolution of 2017. According to his excellency, the camps provide the US with stability and protection from migrants and illegal aliens. And fat beauty contest winners.

(To camp resident): So how do you like living in a camp?

Resident: Oh, it’s fine. His Excellency takes good care of us.

HF: His excellency?

Resident: Well, he declared himself emperor after the “difficulties”. We’re all fine with that.

HF: What if you aren’t fine with that?

Resident: Then we are forced to be reprogrammed by watching every campaign speech and debate from 2016. (shudders). It’s horrible, I’ve heard.

HF: I'm so sorry.

Resident: Oh, it’s not so bad. We have great health insurance, for example. All ugly women can choose to be executed, or get free plastic surgery, breast augmentation, and tummy tucks.

HF: How did the camps get started?

Resident: Well, his Excellency wanted to get all the Muslims out of the general population, so he sent all Muslims, people with funny last names, and anybody with the middle name of “Hussein” to a camp. Then he got tired of the black people whining about Black Lives mattering, so he sent them all to the black people camp.

HF: What about the Mexicans?

Resident: Oh, there aren’t any Mexicans here. They all went back to Mexico before the wall was built.

HF: Trump did build the wall, huh?

Resident: Oh, no. MEXICO built the wall. To keep Americans out who were trying to escape to Mexico.

HF: But you’re white. Why are you in a camp?

Resident: Well, some of the Caucasians started bitching that with no Mexicans or black people, there was nobody to be landscapers or janitors. So he just sent us all to camps. Like, there’s a special camp just for his ex-wives. And girlfriends. And women he abused, because he got tired of listening to them whining.

HF: Well, this is a really bleak view of the future. I’m afraid I’m going to have to go back to the present now. I don't think I can take this.

Resident: Oh, you can't leave. You’re staying here. At the camp specially for lying left wing socialist liberal media. But it’s okay. Bernie Sanders is there. He’s the camp mascot.

HF: NOOOOOOOOOOOOO…………

(soldiers drag our reporter away screaming…)

Urban Grandma

Recently, one of the offspring of Ms. Hotflash produced offspring of her own, a boy to add to the 2 year old girl previously produced. In a spurt of good will, I offered to watch aforementioned offspring for a few weeks while his mother went back to work.

Baby boy is a good baby and has not peed in my face once (winning!), but I have encountered other challenges in my adventures in babysitting.

First of all, his parents live in Trendy Hipster Land, an urban neighborhood replete with microbreweries, organic juice bars, vintage clothing stores, trendy hipster clothing stores, and many, many hipsters riding their bicycles somewhere with their messenger bags. Don’t you people have jobs?

It is depressing to spend a large amount of time in the home of the (somewhat) newly married, as their kitchenware and appliances are SO MUCH NICER than the tired items we have at home, which includes a fondue pot from 1977. They have utensils that are nice and shiny and weigh 2 pounds! Mixers and food processors and smoothie making thingies!

The appliances! Oh, the appliances! These new-fangled appliances have more blinking lights and settings that Mission Control in Houston. For example, the washing machine has a myriad of settings, including “Casual” and “Sanitize”. What a dilemma. Of course I want to sanitize, who doesn’t? But that setting takes 2 hours. If I use “Casual”, will people know I don’t care about the cleanliness of my clothes? Will I exude a casual attitude that could prevent me from getting a good table at restaurants or a promotion at work? And will “Casual” remove the spit-up from my shoulders?

Then there’s the strollers, aka Urban Assault Vehicles. This family owns about 5 strollers, all which have their own devious method of opening and closing. Let’s consider the Uppa Baby, the umbrella stroller of choice for the up and coming toddler. Although I could open it, I could not figure out how to KEEP it open, and it’s probably a bad idea to traverse down the street with the stroller collapsing on a 2 year old. I resorted to Youtube, which has a number of videos on how to open the damn Uppa Baby (this is obviously a bad sign).  Of course, none of the videos corresponded to my particular Uppa Baby. Fortunately I resolved the problem by swearing and stomping on it, which magically “clicked” the stroller open.

But the greatest challenge has been the remote. Or should I say “remotes”.  If I want to Netflix and

chill (obviously a different meaning for us oldsters vs you young’uns), should it really take me FOUR different remotes and their mysterious settings? Really? Why should my binge-watching involve the use of so much brain power? I consider this a micro-aggression.

I have one week to go. I shall master the strollers and appliances! I shall binge watch whatever I want, remotes be damned! And hopefully not get peed in the face.