I was watching – trying to ignore, actually – an ad for Volvo’s President’s Day sale on Hulu the other morning and it declared something like “what we really love about America is that anybody can become President.” And they showed an ethnic and gender diverse collection of people who are apparently running in 2020 (or at least *could* be). And I thought, well, that’s not right. I’ll grant you that we might have slightly more ethnic diversity in our politics than Sweden does (I mean, I don’t really know that, but it seems like a safe bet), though the Riksdag (that’s the Swedish Parliament, and, no, I didn’t know that without looking it up) is something like 45% female, which is slightly more than double the percentage of women in the US House of Representatives (and the US Senate, too).

But as far as the Presidency goes, let’s face it. You have to be a dude (not counting Edith Wilson), and you pretty much have to be white – with one exception and he was half white and I don’t think we’re gonna have another one of those guys anytime soon. You also have to at least say you’re a Christian (you don’t actually have to *act* like one, of course – unless you get caught doing something immoral, in which case you can always invite Franklin Graham over for dinner to “pray” it away).

So, “sorry, Volvo,” I thought. But not anyone can be President here.

But then I thought maybe they weren’t talking about diversity (despite they happy shiny multicultural faces in their commercial). Maybe they meant that any fucking loser idiot can now be President of the United States, no matter how ignorant, immoral, incompetent, and downright disgusting.

If that’s what they meant, then I guess I have to reluctantly (sadly) agree with that. Truly, no bar is too low anymore.

Although I didn’t watch any of it (didn’t even know the score until I had it thrust upon me this morning), I’m sure that everybody (with the exception of my wife) knows that yesterday was the Super Bowl. There was a time when I cared about that, but that time has long since passed. And even if I actually did care, yesterday’s game was between two teams that I really can’t stand. Though I guess I hate New England more than I hate Philly, so other than a career-ending injury to Tom Brady on the opening play, I guess yesterday’s result was about as good as it could be.

Mostly, though, I don’t care.

Not so for our Dear Leader, though. He somehow found a way to carve time out of his busy schedule of tweetin’ and releasin’ memos and whatnot to host a Super Bowl party down at the Trump International Golf Club, where he was able to fondle ogle shake hands with a bunch of Florida Atlantic University cheerleaders. Sadly for Trump, his wife was there. Plus his boys Brady and Belichick came out on the short end of this one.

A darn shame.

Oh well, halfway to getting Monday over with. That’s about the best thing I can say about today.