I cut myself off from the news the morning of the inauguration. TV. Online. I detest social media. So, yeah, I covered my bases. As I write this, I’m still on the wagon.

If our flag now has an extra star or two — or, say, Rupert Murdoch runs PBS — I don’t know about it. I’ve heard whispers: “It’s even worse than we thought.” I ignore it. Though I do murmur: “What did you expect?”

Trump is candid about his willingness to lie, cheat, and seek revenge. It’s savvy, not sin. He didn’t hold back with regard to what he wanted to do, nor the character and qualifications of the folks he’d deputize to do it. And he won. Fair and square. To the winner goes the oligarchy.

A lot of people grew pretty upset these last four years. In some way or other, they felt they were losing. The left? They were the pre-2004 Red Sox. Stay the course. Trust the process.

Trump? He was George Steinbrenner. Channel that anger. Yell. Fire people.

I don’t understand why nearly half of America believes he can deliver, particularly with a team that has more beer league scrubs than prime free agents. But that’s my problem. I’m just not buying a season pass to see how it plays out.

My goal is to become a low information voter. And I don’t say that pejoratively. I’ve been paying attention for a long time. And where has it gotten me these last few months?

Bitter. Disillusioned. Depressed.

At 45, I still remember the heyday of the broadcast news era. Rather. Brokaw. Jennings. Throw in a dose of early-days CNN and “60 Minutes” on Sunday. Maybe a local newspaper. You learned what you needed to know. Facts weren’t fake; they were … facts.

It’s getting harder to see how we’re better off since the advent of cable news and social media.

The latter, founded under the false pretense of “connection” by a bunch of weird introverts who worship at the altar of Lord of the Rings, has made folks more tribal. And mean.

As for cable news, I never particularly liked Fox. Not even when I was a Republican voting for Bush, McCain, and Romney. So it’s been CNN or MSNBC. None of the three are without fundamental flaws. There’s a lot of smug sanctimony and self-righteousness. I love “Morning Joe.” It eases me into the day. But in recent months, it feels like the same song on repeat. It’s a cycle of agitation.

And anyway, it seems we’re a Joe Rogan country, not a Scarborough country. People don’t want information anymore, they want affirmation. Love MAGA? Fox is your snarky Valentine. Demoralized and dejected? The folks at MSNBC offer an array of supercilious echo chambers. Both networks sing a tailored tune with incessant backup vocals from banal pundits.

And the ubiquitous “Breaking News” chyron. Please stop. There’s so much vitriolic chum in the water, and still they bite breathlessly at every piece of bait. If you tell folks everything is breaking news, eventually, nothing is breaking news. We’re numb. We’ve lost the ability to be shocked.

Which is all to say: My misery doesn’t enjoy the company anymore.

Despite the Biden reprieve, it’s felt from the day Trump took up residence at 1600 Pennsylvania that the “Shining City on a Hill” has been illuminated by a tawdry neon light. The class and integrity has left the building.

With some exceptions on both sides of the aisle, those who’ve stuck around in the legislative chambers and carry influence are either GOP sellouts, back bench MAGA sycophants, or well-intentioned septuagenarians who’ve lost a step.

For the record, shame on Joe Biden, and the senior team that propped him up, for running for reelection. What a masterclass in arrogance and tarnishing a legacy.

Again, I’ve been in the dark of late. Things may have changed.

But I don’t want to see terrified kids and crying parents being yanked from schools, churches, or off the street and jettisoned to a detention center. And I certainly don’t want to see that little creep, Stephen Miller, smile about it.

I can’t stomach the potential visual of a four-star general saluting Pete Hegseth.

I don’t want to watch another natural disaster decimate a U.S. city while some half-wit trumpets the climate hoax tune.

I don’t want to know what Bitcoin is worth.

I don’t want to see traders in MAGA hats on the floor of the NYSE, nor statistics about how the wealth of the 1% has soared to even higher heights than it did under Biden. (I don’t believe in hell, but there are freshly gilded seats waiting for the myriad billionaires who found their religion on Trump after he won.)

If George Clooney, Michael Moore, or anyone else from Hollywood has an opinion, I don’t care to hear it.

I’m done with polling. Just start calling it what it is: guessing.

A whole lot of hardworking, struggling, lower-income folks have bet the house that a handful of rich white guys are going to look out for them and fix their problems. I’ve no interest in seeing them let down.

Look, the reelected grifter in Gucci loafers may deliver progress. Hope so, in fact. But I’m not optimistic.

I’m angry. And anger doesn’t need a helping hand. I accept that the next four years are probably going to suck.

I don’t need a daily reminder.

Ben Clarke is a communications consultant. A former Republican speechwriter, he has written for political leaders across the globe and advised numerous Fortune 100 CEOs on messaging and strategy. He resides in his hometown of Greenfield.