So last night as we sat down to our second attempt at dinner, I mentioned President Alzheimer’s speech that had just been reported. The one where he thought it would be peachy-fine if Los Angelos and San Diego were to be taken out by the country he’s been bombing.

The crowd that cheered.

How? How could even an addled demented terrible person like that say such a thing?

Richard: Because he doesn’t own any golf courses here.

I sat there kind of stunned a moment: that was exactly it. Well, that plus our status as a blue state, of course, but California turned blue in rejection of then-Governor Pete Wilson’s trying to become the next Republican President on anti-immigrant bigotry: don’t let immigrants get licenses. (Thus no insurance when they hit someone.) Don’t let hospitals pay for their emergency care. (Right, we all want to watch people just die in front of us who could be saved.* No Good Samaritans for you!) Don’t let their kids attend school. (Right, we want angry teenagers surrounded by greater wealth but with no possible chance at upward mobility to feel hated by society and with nothing to do all day but act out their anger or envy while people aren’t home.)

The voters saw the logical endpoint of Wilson’s bigotry and didn’t like what it might say about them. That was the end of his career and of the political chances of a whole lot of Republicans here.

So.

I have the antidote.

We can help make 47 care about this state–we can even offer him a bargain, and you know he loves to think he has negotiated a good deal. Prime southern Californian real estate, beachfront, undeveloped, it could be his for a song. It’s fronted by a highway, but no matter, there are already signs along it telling people not to get out and climb the dune that rises the whole length between the road and the ocean, so they won’t be bothering him or his buddies, they’ll always have the best view. In a historic place. Heck, he can even build his arch there if he wants.

It was built up during WWII as a training area for young soldiers, and the possibility of live ammunition or mines in the dunes is why those signs are there.

But then, we all know he doesn’t read if he doesn’t have to.

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*During this time, there was a church get-together and I met a young couple with a newborn and a toddler. The wife was enjoying the evening out but the husband, an immigrant, had gone from being tired that morning to just barely holding up and should have stayed home. Turned out they didn’t have insurance and delayed seeking care. Two days later he was dead and his children were fatherless. I’ve never quite gotten over it. Nor should I.