I'm Sorry Y'all, But I Just Can't Find a Shit to Give About Donald Trump's Impeachment

Illustration for article titled I'm Sorry Y'all, But I Just Can't Find a Shit to Give About Donald Trump's Impeachment
Screenshot: CNN (YouTube)

So before I write this thing, I have to admit that, right now, I’m about to do a version of a thing that deeply annoys me. Someone will write a thing. (Let’s say about libertarian marsupials.) And the people who care deeply about libertarian marsupials will respond to that thing. Maybe they’ll leave comments on the platform it was published on. (“I’ve long thought the Knicks should hire a libertarian marsupial to be their next video coordinator.”) Maybe they’ll share the piece on social media, and maybe they’ll leave comments in those Twitter/Facebook threads.

And then, someone will make the effort of clicking on said article and leaving a comment just to let everyone know how much they don’t care about libertarian marsupials. And it’s like, YOU OBVIOUSLY CARE(D) ENOUGH ABOUT LIBERTARIAN MARSUPIALS TO MAKE THE EFFORT TO LET PEOPLE KNOW “YOU DON’T CARE,” YOU BROCCOLI PANCAKE MOTHERFUCKER.

Anyway, today, as I prepare to share exactly how much I don’t care about a thing that is happening—a thing that a great many people seem to care about—I realize I’m doing something similar. But I believe, perhaps foolishly, that my reasons for not caring are noble, and this nobility is, well, noble.


So on September 24th, Nancy Pelosi initiated an impeachment inquiry against Donald Trump—finally doing the thing she’s been asked to do for as long as she’s had the power to do it. The impetus is Trump’s alleged explicit ‘ask’ of foreign countries—the Ukraine, in particular—to investigate Joe Biden and his son, Hunter, for things that I don’t give enough shits about to google to get correct.

The move to impeach is a popular one. Most Americans support the inquiry, as even some Republicans seem to be willing to finally wash their hands of Trump. (As if that’s possible. As if God ain’t gonna greet them at the gates with a face like Diddy’s from “The Four.” But bless their little hateful hearts.) I support it, too. Which may seem to contradict the whole “I don’t give a shit about this” thing, but it doesn’t! You can be in support of a thing and also not be interested in whether it happens. I’m generally, for instance, a staunch supporter of unfolded lawn chairs. I’m glad that they exist, and if one is available while I’m in the vicinity of a lawn, I will sit on it. But I give no shits about the lawn chair unfolding process, and if you tried to explain it to me I would pretend I had a very urgent text message to respond to.

My apathy about impeachment is complicated, and the main complication is that I just don’t think what he did here was that bad. Wrong? Sure. Illegal. Perhaps? Treasonous? Maybe. But of the hundreds of abjectly terrible things he’s said and done since being President, since being alive, using his power to outsource an investigation into Hunter Biden’s sham board appointment is at the “eh, I guess” end of the spectrum. And I guess maybe I’m annoyed that none of that other shit merited impeachment, but this Shiv Roy-ass shit does.

I know, I know, I know. He asked a foreign party to interfere with our election. And I guess that’s serious. Tony Stark ain’t die for this shit. But that this is the hill that’s chosen to defend is both insulting and insultingly boring. Perhaps the fireworks will come. Perhaps the pressure Trump feels will exacerbate the already swift decline of his mind, and he’ll go full Stormfront and tweet about “them niggers at Waffle House.” That would be fun. But right now it’s just a pissing contest between news networks to see who can book who for the A-block.


So yeah, come and get me when it’s something real. Or something exciting, at least. Something that ain’t just a rigged skeeball game on K Street. (WHERE ARE THE LIBERTARIAN MARSUPIALS?!?!) Until then, I’ll be over here, unfolding some lawn chairs.

Damon Young is the editor-in-chief of VSB, a contributing opinion writer for The New York Times, and the author of What Doesn't Kill You Makes You Blacker (Ecco/HarperCollins)

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I get it. This is much like Al Capone finally getting convicted for tax evasion. After all the crimes he committed, where everyone knew he did it, they got him on the only thing they could prove and it was a sliver of his real guilt. But they got him.

Let’s hope that Trump, like his spiritual forefather, succumbs to neurosyphilis