Thanks to Trump, politics is all anyone can talk about these days. It’s even creeping into our private lives.
For instance, when I came home the other day, my wife and three kids were gathered in the family room waiting for me.
“What’s going on?” I asked.
“I think you’re going to want to sit for this,” the lovely yet formidable Marcia said, looking grave. “The new poll numbers are in.”
“Poll numbers? You mean on Trump?”
“No, on you.”
“On me? You took a poll on me?”
“Yes, and I’m afraid your approval ratings are at an all-time low.”
“All-time low? You mean there have been other polls?”
“Monthly,” she said. “Since last year. And as you can see from this chart, last May you were …”
“Wait. You have a chart?”
“How else were we going to track your performance? Now as I was saying, last May you were trending pretty well in the ‘strongly approve’ category, which we attribute to your decision to take us all on vacation.”
“But then you can see a downturn starting right about the time you got rid of the unlimited data package for our cell phones.”
“But that was costing a fortune!”
“That may be true, but it cost you with the kids. You dropped from a 60 percent approval rating all the way down to 50 on that decision alone.”
“Fifty percent?” I protested. “That’s outrageous.”
“Well, it was a very unpopular decision. But it pales in comparison to the drop you took after January’s ‘We’re not getting another damned dog’ fiasco. That dropped you all the way down to an unprecedented 33 percent.”
“Well, at least a third of the house still likes what I do.”
“Used to, anyway.”
“Well, sure. That was January. Since then there have been other declines based on a series of controversial decisions and … let’s just call them family faux pas.”
“Well, there was a 5 percent dip when you tried to put the new microwave in.”
“But the install guy wanted $90 bucks!”
“And I wanted a cabinet without extra holes in it.”
“I apologized for that!”
“Sorry don’t feed the bulldog,” she said. “You also dropped another 3 percent when you forgot to get me chocolates for Mother’s Day.”
“You said you were dieting!”
“And, finally, the dog was definitely not happy about you yelling at him for peeing in the hallway, which cost you another 3 points.”
“Wait a second, the dog votes?”
“Of course he does. He’s part of the family.”
“So do I get to have a poll about you guys?”
“You can, but I’d advise against it. I’m already hearing rumblings of the I-word.”
Impeachment? Good grief, things are worse than I thought. Maybe I need a household spokesperson to smooth out my wrinkles. Where’s Sean Spicer when you need him?
Image credit: Donkey Hotey