Losing Stings

I feel bad for Donald Trump.

Hear me out.

According to Wikipedia, the poor guy spent his adolescence attending exclusive college prep schools. This means he missed out on the many benefits offered through the public school system, like seventh-grade P.E., which is where most American children are taught to feel bad about themselves. Without it, I, too, might have sailed into adulthood overestimating my popularity and believing I was capable of greatness, even if I had really awful hair.

Instead, I spent my 13^th year learning how to lose. I did this by taking a lot of dodgeballs to the face. And by running much slower than everyone else. And by being a little pudgy and uncoordinated. That’s why it was so great – there were so many different ways to fail and, to top it off, the open stalls in the locker room ensured no one escaped the class with a single shred of dignity.

It was life changing.

I can’t imagine how I’d handle the challenges of being a husband and a father and a Comcast customer if I hadn’t learned how to accept defeat back then. I wouldn’t start an insurrection, probably, but could see myself demanding recounts and blaming the postal service and then getting permanently suspended from my family’s text group.

And that would suck.

So, yeah, I empathize with his situation. Losing is never fun, but I know there are better days ahead for all of us.

Finally.