Thanks for those prayers, Gov. Cox. America has never disagreed better. 

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Just over a month ago, most Democrats, many Independents and a blessed few of our fellow Republicans awoke to the news that Donald Trump had won the 2024 presidential election. To say the least, there was much finger-pointing, fearmongering and dismay felt among that voting bloc, all of which was pointless because the world did not come to an end, as was commonly predicted.

A month later, as we approach and immerse in the Christian, Jewish, Islamic, Pagan and all other religious and cultural celebrations that abut our lives at the end of each calendar year, we can look back and be grateful that the world, indeed, did not end. Such trepidation—some might even the say childish behaviors and the bitter reactions of sore losers—was premature. Hand-wringing and finger-pointing aside, our world did not self-combust. It was just the end of a dream and we can create new dreams.

In the ensuing weeks, perhaps you will dream or reflect upon what can be right and what can be wrong for America. Now is the time that we—all Americans—can look back together in unity, hug our family members (except for the cult-crazy ones), leave jelly or cookies with our neighbors (except for the ones who flew insulting flags up to election day) and join hands at the places of worship of our choice (until such time as it is recognized that reconciling of morals and ethics comes with a higher price tag than reconciling a shopping list).

Now is a good time to look positively into 2025 and admit that a not-quite-50% minority of Americans nationwide—election losers by the narrowest of slivers—may have overreacted just a tad. We were wrong. The end of the democratic society we once adored and took for granted is actually January 20, 2025, another month hence.

Whew! But for the sake of all Americans—and I sincerely mean this—let's pray that on Inauguration Day, the biggest crowd ever, larger than the crowds of all Taylor Swift concerts of the past two years combined, show up to cheer on Donald J. Trump as he is sworn in as the 47th President of the United States. Lord knows that man cares more about crowd size and ratings than he does Americans who don't live on a golf course. Meaning you.

It is well-known he can be an angry, petty and vindictive individual. So I think it best for everyone that he be given a great big jar of ego sugar on that day.

I'd be there myself if I could (he lied). I'm pretty sure Utah will be well-represented, however, and will of course be led by Gov. Spencer J. Cox, (both versions of him). I hear he's good at praying and such.

In my life, I've used up most of my "Dear Lord" coins. So for now I'm going to just pray to the next best thing—Utah's Lord and Savior, Spencer J. Cox. Here goes.

Dear Lord Spence: Wow. You did it! Thank you for interceding with your timely prayers that Donald Trump may learneth to Disagree Better™ and that he may himself healeth from his wounds and in turn healeth our great nation. I am truly blessed you share Utah's scarce water and dirty air with a fool such as I.

This note shall bear witness to the great wisdoms that Donald Trump has borne our fractured land, evidenced by his calm demeanor, fair treatment of our neighbors north and south, his welcome, kind words to immigrants and people of every color, and for his deep passion of doing the right thing (for his own kind).

I humbly ask, what other wise man could have chosen such a collectively talented, varied and eclectic fellowship of future ambassadors, cabinet members and heads of government agencies? It was you, Lord Spence, who brought this wondrous body of mostly Crayola-flesh-tone-crayon men to lead us. Thank you, thank you. My mind cannot conceive of the damages wrought, nor how bad it could have been if not for your magical intercession. Yours in service and humbleness,

Signed, John the Copper Digger (not my real name, but who cares?)

Enough praying for now. I'll leave that to the experts. I'm not bragging or anything, but nearly everyone in Utah is better at praying than I am.

I'm pretty good at remembering, though. I think now is a good time to actually give serious thought to something that has been easily mocked these past years: MAGA.

I was introduced to MAGA back in 2016 when a longtime and respected acquaintance produced—sheepishly, actually—her newly-purchased MAGA hat. I didn't care. I just shrugged. When I pointed out that the hat was Made in China, she just shrugged.

In that moment, I knew we had chasmed apart—jumped the shark in opposite directions, so to speak—each of us on either side of the Grand Canyon. From our separate vantage points, we marveled at the same scenery—the dancing shadows playing beneath us, the abundant corners of life and survival everywhere—but each deriving from our viewpoints two entirely different experiences.

To this day, neither of us has reconciled why we became different, only that we are. We barely speak and the gap between us has not narrowed. The Colorado River running far below cuts us both equally.

I never understood MAGA—not because I didn't understand the sellable sentiment, but because America is already great. But neither am I a fool despite all the "research" that says otherwise. So I honestly wonder if it will be great much longer. Faithfully yours, John.

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