I got to the diner later than usual yesterday. It was a busy day at the office. Trump and the Project ’25 Boys went crazy and the newspaper was busy trying to gather information on the 1500 or so Executive Orders that poured out of the White House. Especially pardoning the traitors and criminals who attacked the nation’s capital on January 6, 2021. Go to Whitehouse.gov and read them for yourself. DON’T RELY ON ANY MEDIA OUTLET TO TELL YOU WHAT THEY SAY!!!! This is the direct link to the Jan 6 pardons EO.
by Derek Drake, OrlandoAdvocate.com
Fat Mack and Little Willie were already inside. Uncle G was coming down the street, headed for the diner as I arrived. I waited for him in the doorway.
“What’s up, Uncle G?” I asked. Unc had a scowl on his face.
“So the only promise your president can keep is one he made to the traitors who attacked the Capitol,” he sneered.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. ‘My’ president?’ I backed up a bit to let him in. “When did he become ‘my’ president?”
Uncle G walked past me without replying, and I felt the tension crackling in the air around him as he walked in. It was going to be one of those lunch hours at the diner.
“Uncle G. Scoops.” Fat Mack acknowledged us as we approached the table. I tried to signal them that things were not good without actually saying anything. Little Willie understood, looking anxiously from me to Uncle G and over to Mack.
“What’s up, Uncle G?” he asked cautiously.
“F***king Trump,” Unc said, sliding into the booth opposite Willie and Mack.
“Ah, yeah,” Willie said, knowingly. His uncle is a retired cop. Once blue, always blue. Willie nodded. “The pardons.”
“Promise Breaking Trump made a whole lot of promises while he was trying to get elected,” Uncle G said. “But instead of working on those promises, he’s doing that back alley magician sh*t of distracting people from what he’s really doing,” Uncle G was talking kind of loud, and people around the diner were throwing glances our way.
“Oh, like I don’t have a right to complain,” he said— to no one in paticular and everyone at the same time. “In case you haven’t noticed, the price of eggs is still going up.”
Some of the people in the diner were looking a bit uncomfortable about now. We used to always talk about politics at our favorite neighborhood eating place, but these days, there is just a different vibe. The whole Trump-MAGA thing has created so much division everywhere and it’s just plain ugly. People are sensitive and angry. I wanted to see if I could change the subject, but just then somebody said, “No shit!”
Oh, boy. With that, the tension seemed to melt away, because no matter which “side” people happened to be on, everyone there could relate to the fact that prices were not going down and it didn’t look like they were going to go down.
A buzz started around the diner that grew to a loud hum. I could tell that while people were discussing what it was going to be like with prices rising and employers not talking about cost of living raises, no one was saying Trump’s name. It’s amazing how much people actually have in common living in America until you say “Trump,” or “MAGA.”
But Uncle G wasn’t done.
“So, I used to be a cop,” he said loudly enough to be heard beyond our table. He was clearly talking to the room, since his nephew, Mack and I already knew. The diner quieted down.
“I’m retired now, but Trump just pardoned fourteen members of the Proud Boys and Oath Keepers who attacked the Capitol and attacked the police officers who were on duty. Trump basically said: ‘F* the cops. If you kill ‘em I‘ve got a pardon for you.’”
Man! I swear I heard a pin drop.
“One of the assholes who got pardoned said he was going to go out and get a gun,” a guy in the booth behind us chimed in.
“Yeah, and did you hear that MAGA Granny said Trump was trying to “rewrite history and she didn’t want to be a part?” Fat Mack said over a huge spoonful of mashed potatoes. “She turned down her pardon.”
“MAGA who?” Little Willie chuckled.
“No joke,” Mack deftly wiped his mouth, chin, and forehead in one smooth move. “She’s MAGA, and she’s a . . . ”
“What? A granny?” our waitress broke in, laughing and plopping two lunch plates on the table. Uncle G and I have got to work on being a little less predictable in our food choices. I caught her eye and winked. She winked back. Made my day.
Mack ignored her and took a very big bite out of his burger. “She said they were wrong that day, they all broke the law, and there should be no pardons.“
“That’s character,” the guy in the next booth said.
Uncle G nodded and pointed to him in acknowledgment.
“I hope my brothers in blue get ready for the fools who’re now gonna think they can get away with anything,” Uncle G said. “Trump has just told these crazies that they can be a domestic terrorist if they want, as long as they terrorize on his behalf. And yes, I call the police my brothers in blue. See, we’re the people nobody likes, but we’re also the people everybody calls when somebody’s breaking into your house, or kidnaps your kid. We’re not perfect, and some cops shouldn’t be cops at all, but when a cop is doing his or her job and gets attacked by some f***ing mob, the assholes shouldn’t get a free pass.”
People were nodding in agreement, some begrudgingly. “That’s how it should be for everybody,” the guy from the next booth said. “Most of us in here probably don’t like cops, but everybody here loves you, Uncle G.”
Uncle G finally cracked a smile. “Thanks, and I love you guys, too. Well, some of you, anyway,” he laughed. “But seriously, I’m pissed, and everybody here should be pissed off, too. ‘Cause the only promise Trump has kept so far was to a bunch of cop-killing thugs. Mama said there’d be days like this,” he said.
“F**k Trump.”