Journal entry, August 15, 2016:
Got some amusing mail coming in today. From Donald Trump’s campaign staff, and I pitched it to Dad just to mess with him.
Dad has an almost irrational dislike for The Donald. Okay, I don’t like the guy either for reasons of my own, but Dad’s dislike is special. When I pull up the news and Trump’s face shows up, Dad has the same response:
“Who’s that? Dumbshit again?”
Never fails, and myself being the opinionated snarky type who always needs to make things interesting, you know I’m gonna yank his chain.
He has a few other people on that list of his: The trash man, who Dad calls Fatass. The next-door neighbors (although the one on the other side is probably worse, but she gets a pass because she’s attractive and friendly.) A few others.
See, Dad was never like this before dementia. I mean he wouldn’t like certain people, but not like that. I guess it’s just one of the changes that happens when dementia takes the brain over. The filter goes, along with everything else.
Maybe in a perverse way it’s fun to play with, but it’s still not fun to see.