Whatever happened to Uncle Malcolm?

It can be awkward when you have relatives who support Donald Trump. They think of him as a cross between God and the great leader. He can do no wrong. They are also born-again Christians and they are convinced that I am going to Hell anyway.

As long as I am destined to go to some place that does not accommodate people like Trump, I am sure I will be happy.

But you should see how these people skate when I ask them whatever happened to Uncle Malcolm. Malcolm died of covid-19 last month. I have not seen him for the past three years. Last time I saw him, he was California-bound for fame and fortune.

But these people have answers for everything. Malcolm’s death is a hoax as far as they are concerned. They think he is alive and well and living the good life in the Golden State. They actually believe that the deaths of a quarter-million Americans from the pandemic, to-date, are a hoax.

And, of course, they believe that their Mr. Trump won the November 3 election. They think the new president elect is also a hoax. They think the demon Joe Biden should be tried for treason.

You come away from a conversation with people like this deeply troubled. And the funny part is that they obviously consider you the nut who needs an intervention. It is the way their voices soften when speaking to you. They do not want to use their outdoor voices and scare you. I think they are convinced I am someone from the deep state.

It is disconcerting to be on the receiving end of their intervention.

I think when the pandemic is over, I am going to have to go to California and check on Malcolm’s grave site. I am sure he is toes up somewhere.


(This is with apologies to family members who read this blog. No, Malcolm’s not your uncle. As the expression goes: Bob’s your uncle!)


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