Reports From the Nursery (Part Eleven)
By Alexis, In Her Own Words
You might find this surprising, but I remember that even before my earthly birth a little more than a year ago, Heaven was already abuzz with speculation and debate about the then-upcoming American election.
Politically speaking, most of the disputes that marked so much of Election Year life was discarded in the handy bins located just outside the Pearly Gates. “Issues” don’t seem to matter a fig up there, nor do questions about governance, policies or past performance.
Yeah. It can be… well, not exactly boring, but maybe less than the rousing bit of blood-boiling passion you might savor. Mainly, folks avoid any disputes over anything but —say— the number of angels that can dance on a pinhead. (Settled eons ago, by the way; 2,021,926, if they all fold their wings.)
And yet, as heaven and earth saunter toward the 2024 Presidential Election, one might well conclude that the thermostat is set permanently to “hyperbole,” with the two leading contestants performing in a spectacle that is less Oscar Wilde than Billy Wilder.
On one side, we have Donald J. Trump, the populist radical whose approach to electoral politics is something akin to a hyperactive brontosaurus in a China shop. Mr. Trump is once again the Republican standard-bearer. No one else could manage to cram such an assortment of populism, charisma, and often cringeworthy theatrics into a singular persona. Trump is an experience, a moving, breathing spectacle of “can you believe this is actually happening?” Trump’s appeal rests largely on his shamelessness, which is so complete, so unflinching, that it leaves both his most ardent detractors and supporters in either disbelief or utter awe.
In the other corner, we have the current Vice President, Kamala Harris. Harris, despite her undeniable personal achievements, carries an aura of “Sure; let’s run her.” As an unstated slogan, it clings to her candidacy like a wet sweater on a damp day. But settle they have. The Democratic establishment, horrified at the task of parading Biden across the electoral finish line, like a Weekend at Bernie’s, concluded that Harris is—what is that favorite phrase of political consultants—“I dunno: something we can work with. Maybe.”
In all honesty, I don’t care who “wins”. I might someday, when my life takes a turn, but for now it’s fun to hear what the grapevine says… about both Esteemed Candidates:
Kamala Harris: The Top Four Jokes In Heaven
- There’s a certain fascination to listening to Kamala’s speeches. Like a live version of your car’s GPS after an unexpected turn, with the spinning ball dancing madly while it recalibrates. Inevitably, though, it just goes back to the same “turn left now!” you’ve been getting all along.
- Kamala adamantly refuses to provide policy details; her motto: “full speed ahead, completely unburdened by what I may, or may not, have said before!”
- If Kamala’s campaign was a playlist, it would be titled, “Greatest Hits of 2019.” Except no one remembers the lyrics, and nobody is sure of the tunes.
- Kamala’s campaign has the joyous energy of a Zoom meeting on mute—you're not sure if anyone’s saying anything, or if anybody is really there.
Donald Trump: The Top Four Jokes in Heaven
- Trump's policies are as mysterious as his tax records… because he won’t tell you what they are.
- Trump’s campaign strategy is like his hair—mysterious, unhinged, and probably held together with Top Secret Advanced Engineering Techniques, designed by Elon Musk.
- Trump’s rallies are always packed; but half of the audience are assassins, and the other half are Secret Service agents waving them through.
- His foreign policy plan? "It’ll be huge." Like his lawsuits, golf scores, and ego.
It’s all great fun, though— at least in Heaven, where fistfights and lawsuits are unknown. But in the grand scheme of things, whether on Earth or in the Celestial Realm, it matters little who finally prevails in this election.
Grandpa says, history has shown the markets in general really don’t care either. In fact, he said the markets would probably like to see Trump win, followed by the Democrats winning back the house and the Republicans taking the Senate. That would mean nothing gets done for four more years but more gridlock, and the markets love gridlock. It means politicians will pick on each other and leave the companies, tax laws and existing regulations alone.
Remember, life, unalterable and steady, shall march forward regardless of results. Heck, even I know that. Infants like me will continue to make their debut into this world of Light and Dark, people will fall in and out of love, and—unless some cosmic interlopers from distant planets decide to intervene, the sun will continue its dutiful ascent over the horizon. But extraterrestrial disruptions are a subject for another day.
And so, here I sit, chewing on my own foot—a mere 17 months old, yet privy to the mysteries that precede birth… offering my perspective on this peculiar spectacle of Democracy.
Kamala and Trump? They are but the latest players in an interminable drama, a re-run that has been enacted ever since humanity first deemed it necessary to appoint leaders to govern their affairs. Not for nothing is the Scriptural phrase: “Put not your trust in Princes.”
From the vantage point of Heaven, the real truth is apparent: it’s all a cosmic waltz. Yet, down here on Earth, mortals tend to take these proceedings rather more earnestly than perhaps we ought. That, of course, is what renders the world endlessly fascinating, even to the most jaded.
As for me, I remember enough to understand that no matter who emerges victorious, the world shall continue its course. Soon enough, there will be another election down the road- another chance for us all to deliberate, argue, and overestimate its significance.
Now, if you will excuse me, I must attend to more immediate matters, such as my nap. A girl’s gotta have priorities, y’know.
— end —
(EDITOR’S NOTE: Alexis and her musings will return to these pages in future editions.
But not right now: she’s napping.)
