A couple of weeks have passed and the dust has settled. Are you any less depressed? Because I’m not. In fact, I have spent the last few weeks actively lingering on busy roads.
No luck yet.
Many bad things have happened during my lifetime: 9/11, Hurricane Catriona, the blanket defence, to name but a few. But none of which left a sickening taste in my mouth like this one.
Reaching for my phone to see the results of the American election was definitely the second hardest thing that morning. (Even in a serious piece, I’m a gas bastard. Sign me up @irishtimes).
My initial reaction was one of anger and despair. I cursed the idiocy of the American people. I cursed a system that elected a man who received less votes. I cursed a racist president.
This, coming after Brexit and the general shift towards the far-right across Europe, chilled my blood. Apocalyptic thoughts drained the colour from my world. Fucking yanks, I thought.
But, I also blessed my own little country. In a world where everyone else seems to be reverting back to the 1930s, we’re legalising Gay marriage, progressing Transgender rights, and we also have a magical, poetry-reciting Goblin as our head of state.
Imagine the president of America saying that about Mexicans? Or Muslims? A sickening vilification of a whole race because of the actions of a few. We’d never do that in Ireland, would we? Never.
Well, maybe not “never”.
What about that time you were in a pub, and they suddenly locked the front doors. At first, you were surprised and wondered why. You were then told there was a Traveller wedding on. What did you do? You shrugged your shoulders and continued on drunkenly spitting all over those enduring your company.
What about the time you were getting your haircut and the Barber casually tossed the word “Knacker” into the conversation, and you just went with it, like the little sheep you are.
Or how about the lovely people of Dún Laoghaire-Rathdown, who refused to allow Traveller families to live in their area on a temporary basis following the fire in a Carrickmines halting site? Eleven Travellers lost their lives, half of whom were children by the way, but clearly you don’t give a shit.
Liberal Ireland rides around on its high-horse, tutting and shaking its head at the Brits and the Yanks, wondering how they can they be so intolerant of their minorities.
While, all across the country, members of the Traveller Community are being slowly driven from our towns and villages. And believe you me, they don’t need anyone to build a wall to know that they’re not wanted.
But no, you’re right. Go back to Twitter and retweet angry tweets about America’s racists.
Ignore the fact that many Travellers are forced to hide their identity if they wish to be employed. Ignore the fact that the life-expectancy of a traveller is fifteen years younger than that of a settled person.
Ignore the fact that if you’re a male traveller, you are six times more likely to commit suicide than a settled male.
Where can you find four million Donald Trumps? Well it’s a little, green island, with a big schlong in the middle of its capital city.