The Trees Told Me to Vote for Kamala Harris

This story is unbelievable.

I learn most about who I am from the comments section of my tree videos. For instance, I had no idea that I was an Anti-Israel Zionist Coward until this past year, and I thank you all for this label. I now use it to introduce myself, and I think it lends me an air of mystery at PTA meetings.

So that’s how I gather information about myself. But when I want to know about the world, I leave the old smart phone in the glove compartment and set out to find the answers in the wilderness. And it usually doesn’t work.

But this time it did.

I was at a crossroads. I had no idea who to vote for in the upcoming presidential election. And as an eighth-generation Pennsylvanian with a modest social media following, I knew everyone from the “keystone” swing-state would be looking to me for my endorsement. Both choices seemed really, really good. It was almost like when you complain about having both chocolate and vanilla in an ice cream sundae and you say, “I have a problem,” but then your friends say, “no, that’s a good problem to have!” So, I guess having this problem was good.

See, I really like this Donald Trump guy. Everything he says, wow, I just laugh and laugh. And I’d like to keep laughing, so I want to keep him out of prison and in a joking mood. And I figure the best way to do that is by re-electing him as president so he can avoid incarceration. But I also really like this Kamala Harris lady. She’s not as funny, but she does a lot of the laughing. And I like seeing people laugh. And I figure the best way to keep watching her laugh is by making her the president. (I’d be happy, too!)

So I set out on a mission. I went to the President Tree — named after Warren G. Harding (“Old Incorruptible”) — in Sequoia National Park to ask to ask its opinion of the matter. For those of you who don’t know about the President Tree, it’s the second largest tree in the world by volume, second only to the General Sherman tree, which is about a quarter-mile away. Everyone goes to see Sherman, and everyone ignores the President Tree.

Not me. In solitude, I approached the President, placed my face against its soft bark, clasped its 27-foot wide trunk with my insignificant digitae and gently whispered my conundrum: “President Tree, I’m torn between the Laugher and the Laugh-ee. Who deserves to run this great country of ours? Speak wisely, oh, spirit of old!”

I closed my eyes and waited for an answer. Then, like a wooden spectre, a voice sounded out from within, echoing through 3,240 individual growth rings, each lending it an amplified strength of ages, bounding into my ear like a chorus of the Gaiac divine:

“Are you a fucking idiot, dude.”

A riddle. I had heard of nature speaking in riddles before, but I had never been on the receiving end. I chose to answer the cryptic question with a cryptic question of my own:

“Would it be right to recognize myself as such?”

Then a quick reply:

“Stop. Fucking stop talking like that. Harris. The answer is Kamala Harris. Now get the hell out of here, man, Jesus.”

I was stunned. I was prepared for more riddles, but the President Tree seemed to be done speaking.

I went around to every other tree in the Giant Forest, repeating my query, and received variations of the same riddle from each:

“Holy shit, are you for real.” “Can you get your ignorant fucking fingers off me.” “Are you able to tie your own shoes, you goddamn toddler.”

All followed by an affirmative for Harris.

A bewitching, bewildering, puzzling day. But I couldn’t help shaking the idea that the trees seemed to prefer one candidate over the other.

So I will act upon their most subtle intimations, and vote for Harris.

The voices of the trees are subtle, but we must strive to listen. I feel I have done so.

Harris/Walz 2024.