When Donald Trump was elected, I promised friends I would do everything in my power to retaliate against his craven Red State supporters. That winter getaway to Florida was off. So was the spring jaunt to the Rock ’n’ Roll Hall of Fame in Cleveland. And my cheese-head friend up in Milwaukee would have a nice long wait until he saw me again. If ever.
I dutifully took many other steps to join the Red State boycott. Henceforth, I would eat potatoes grown on Long Island, not Idaho. I would eat no sausage produced in Dixie. And I would buy no cars built in vile, perfidious Michigan. A lot of this was easy to do: I never buy American cars; I hate Florida; I have no special affection for potatoes. But then things got tricky. What about my New Balance sneakers? The guy who runs New Balance had injudiciously remarked that Trump’s election would be good for his company, whose footwear is crafted by American hands. Immediately, enraged Hillary supporters began burning their New Balance shoes. Friends, knowing that I was a big fan of the company, demanded to know if I were going to join in.
I wanted to join in. Honest. But I have fallen arches and plantar fasciitis, and New Balance sneakers are the only things that help. So I finessed the issue. I took my really old pair of frayed, dirty, smelly New Balance running shoes and set them ablaze. Now they smelled even worse. But with the other two pairs, recently purchased and still in great shape, I simply covered the letter “N” with duct tape. I’d love to take a more principled stand on this issue, and I would—but not if it’s going to imperil my orthopedic well-being. And not if it’s going to set me back $300.
Pennsylvania was the next major stumbling block. Much as I would like to wreak economic reprisals on the Keystone State, which went for Trump, I have one big problem going forward: I grew up in Philadelphia. Worse, I had a wedding to attend in the outskirts of Philly the week after the election. Though it went overwhelmingly for Hillary, Philadelphia is now in a Red State. Talk about an ethical dilemma! If I refused to visit the Keystone State until a Democrat was back in the White House, it would mean that I couldn’t see my three sisters, or the Eagles, or the statue of Rocky, or the Liberty Bell, for at least four years. Worse, I couldn’t have a cheesesteak, much less a hoagie. From a culinary point of view, I was staring directly into the bowels of the fathomless abyss.
But then I hit on a brilliant, ethically elastic, solution. I would visit Philadelphia but I wouldn’t spend any money there. I’d buy my gas in New Jersey. I’d stay in a hotel in Delaware. I’d get my cheesesteak at People’s Pizza on Route 38 in Cherry Hill. I’d see the Eagles the next time they played in New York. This way, I could savor the innumerable joys of the Quaker City without compromising my principles.
Then I hit the wall. Visiting my acupuncturist in Queens (where Trump grew up) I was shocked to learn that he had voted for Trump: “He’s a businessman; he’ll cut taxes; he’ll bring back jobs,” Dr. Lee explained. “The pain is down here on the lower right-hand side, right?” So now I was face to face with the very crux of the conundrum. If I continued to patronize Dr. Lee, knowing that he had voted for the Bringer of Darkness, I would have to betray my friends and family. I would have to admit that I was shallow, hypocritical, a phony, maybe even evil. I would have to turn my back forever on the great, noble democratic experiment we call America.
I would have loved to avoid all that. But I have a nasty cyst on my spine and acupuncture is the only thing that eases the pain. So yes, the Trump administration may suspend civil liberties, plunge the nation into a Great Depression, wipe out my 401(k), sabotage my children’s future, and start a nuclear war. But back pain is back pain. As Groucho Marx put it, “Those are my principles and if you don’t like them . . . well, I have others.”
So until I find a gifted acupuncturist who voted for Hillary, and is based in a Blue State, I’m sticking with Dr. Lee. The guy’s got my back.
Joe Queenan is the author, most recently, of One for the Books.
