¬╓ ¬

Ivanka: (Uses her personal e-mail for government matters)

Republicans in 2018: oh, that kind of thing doesn’t matter

I was working as a farm hand in Maine in 2012 when Sandy hit, against all odds. New Jersey absolutely had the worst of it, but we were hit with horizontal rain and incredibly intense winds, and none of the houses were really built for it. My boss was out of town and called to tell me I needed to move everything in the barnyard to inside the barn so it didn’t blow away or break or injure anything or anyone. 

They had a dog–a giant, GIANT all-white german shepherd named Dante that came up to my ribs when on all fours. (I’m 5′7″, not exactly short, either.) Dante was basically a dire wolf. He was still a puppy mentally and used to greet me with a happy dance every morning when I arrived at work. Dante, it turns out, was really afraid of storms, probably because they happened so rarely up there.

Point being: Here’s me, 140lbs when wet, trying to drag lumber and yard furniture into a barn without being slammed into the barn or to the ground or broken by the wildly swinging doors. At one point the wind almost carried me off and I was scared shitless. 

And out comes Dante from his nice, warm, safe, cozy dog condo thing. His tail was tucked and his ears were flat but he started walking with me from the lumber to the barn, back and forth. I wasn’t sure what he was doing and was too tired to really think about it until the wind picked up again and I almost toppled over–EXCEPT I DIDN’T, because Dante had braced himself and caught my weight with his side. 

WAS

THAT

For my Floridian friends, please check to see if your mail-in ballot was tabulated!