What do you get for the woman who literally hates everything and everyone and maybe always will? Finding the proper holiday gift for your liberated lady friend is no small feat, even in the best of times. (The Le Creuset pan you bought her supposedly condemns her to a life of indentured servitude? That sexy lingerie is itchy bullshit that perpetuates the patriarchy? Who fucking knew?) So what do you buy for that saucy feminist after maybe the most alarming and disappointing presidential election of her lifetime? How do you please an emancipated broad who’s spent the past few weeks swearing and pacing and sobbing about the impending apocalypse? Read on and find out!
1. A very fragile and beautiful Christmas ornament! Trust me, this is the perfect gift for your special gal right now. Just don’t be alarmed when she crushes it into a million splintery shards with her bare hands. That’s what you want to happen. You just made your dame feel a little bit more festive for half a second there. Didn’t you notice that half-almost-smile/grimace that glimmered at the edges of her lips? She appreciates the thought, see? Just don’t ask her to say so out loud, or that’ll be your sad little skull getting crushed by her ferocious hands.
2. A lovely framed picture of the two of you together! Sure, at first she’ll stare blankly at the photo. Nothing will register. It will almost seem like she’s forgotten who you are or why she ever touched you with casual affection. But then she’ll spot the pretty green leaves on the trees behind you, and she’ll remember that the photo was taken in July, when hope was high and life worth living, as Fantine sings in Les Misérables. (That’s a story about plucky French gals who get screwed over by a gaggle of hotheaded, shortsighted men, sound familiar?) Sure, once she realizes it’s not July anymore and she’s not even a charming street waif, fighting the good fight against corrupt megarich bastards, your dame will chuck your pointless photo across the room. But for a moment there, she’ll feel a deep sense of nostalgia for the not-so-distant past, a gift that is well-nigh irreplaceable!
3. Something packed in bubble wrap, that you ordered online! It doesn’t matter what it is, just make sure it comes covered in lots and lots of bubble wrap. Your headstrong doll will attempt to unravel or un-tape the bubble wrap, but she’ll get frustrated in about five seconds — remember, she hasn’t slept well in weeks — and then she’ll start yelling FUCK THIS FUCK THIS. Then she’ll pick up the bubble-wrapped whatever it is and smash it onto the floor over and over again, hopefully until it caves in or starts oozing some kind of toxic chemical or bursts into flames. This act of unfocused violence will raise your lady’s heart rate and give her a glow that she hasn’t had since the whole world transformed into a hellscape, right before her very eyes!
4. A really overpriced luxury gift that only upper-middle-class humans can afford! Take out a small personal loan and get your feisty broad that Eames chair or that $700 cashmere throw she wants. It will remind her of that wealthy white libertarian classmate of hers who materialized on her Facebook page in order to mansplain Hillary’s inability to grasp the needs of the white working class. An incredulous smile will spread across your gal’s face, but can you blame her? Just think of the kind of privilege it takes to vote for a hapless know-nothing like Gary Johnson in a swing state, knowing that every single human being who’s not white or a man or richer than fuck will suffer for it for 1,424 days straight — assuming there are still free elections at the end of that long stretch of unmitigated fucking purgatory.
5. A ham sandwich! Your lady hasn’t eaten in maybe two or three days now — actually she’s not sure what day it is or even where she is, or what has transpired in her physical environment since a deeply corrupt, lying, hate-spewing circus peanut ballooned to Godzilla size and began actively menacing the populace.
Watch as your lady stares incredulously at the ham sandwich she just unwrapped. Watch as she gazes up at you, confused. Then her eyes start to focus. Whoa, she actually sees you! And look, some of the hard lines around her mouth, formed by scowling for 552 hours straight — they’re starting to soften!
She looks down at the sandwich again. She recognizes suddenly that the ham sandwich represents hope. As long as we are alive and we can still scream at the top of our fucking lungs, she thinks, there is still hope.
She says, “Thank you, baby.” (And she’s not even being facetious!!!)
She eats the ham sandwich.
Then, she pulls up Twitter again.
Don’t forget those three minutes of joy you gave her, though. Don’t forget. That’s the best you’re going to do for a while, trust me. Savor it as much as you can. Savor it like there’s no tomorrow. There might be no tomorrow, for all we know. JUST SAVOR IT.