Brexit vs. Trump: A Life Sentence Vs. Eight Possible Years (VIDEO)

It’s 90 degrees in Venice, California, today.

November 9, 2016; a day and a year that will go down in infamy the world over. As many of my less optimist Liberal friends and family spread hate, fear, and loathing for democracy, I sit in quiet contemplation.

They bitch and moan, scream and shout, and rage about what their fellow countrymen and women have done, and I just sit. Quiet. Shocked, somewhat, but not making any presumptions about the future of this country. Even though I am not thrilled with today’s outcome, I know that things could be much, much, worse.


This past year has been nothing if not emotionally confusing. It started well, with retaining my incredible immigration attorney. Her tireless efforts granted me an O1 visa, allowing me to work in the United States of America.

It took a while, as these things do.

A plethora of American people raised their hands to help me, which was the greatest gift. Paperwork was completed, and here I am.

Paperwork is easy. Personal relationships are hard.

Moving to a new country is tough for those you leave behind, and I appreciate that. I’d be lying if I said that being an immigrant is not emotionally draining too. Every time I think that I am assimilating, someone will remind me that I do not belong. Usually, those people are Brits.

You work, work, work your arse off, and then someone shows you how you’re not good enough, or expects you to work for free. Well, at least my visa proves that I am good enough. That is why I am sitting here in quiet contemplation, and not raging against the machine like so many of my peers in Greater Los Angeles.

Like I said, things could be much, much worse.


One week before I left the U.K., my fellow Brits and I voted on whether to remain a part of, or leave the European Union. As a traveler, an international individual, and a registered Liberal Democrat, I voted to remain. Duh!

We thought we had it in the bag. There was no way that the British could be that stupid, racist, evil, moronic, dense, thick, dumb, simple, intellectually deficient, or obtuse as to throw away such an inherently important institution.

However, I awoke the morning after the vote to find out just how ill informed I am. I sat in my bed, sobbing, wondering whether there was any future for my country.

My first reaction was unadulterated misery. Despite the tears over breakfast, and months of complaining that my family was gearing up for, I knew that I had my own Get Out Of Jail Free card.

One week later, my bags were packed, and I disappeared from the place I could no longer call home.

Those of you who know my works may remember an article I wrote several years ago about why Swansea, my hometown, is the worst hometown ever. At the time of writing, I didn’t mean much of what I wrote. I had a very balanced opinion of Swansea, of all of the U.K., come to think of it.

I just chose to write about just the bad things.

The Worst Hometown Ever

Now? Well, now I mean every fucking word I wrote. To every single cretin, douchebag, wanker, fool, twit, plonker, tool, thundercunt, fuckface, asshole, racist, stupid, useless, waste of space, chav, townie, piece of scum that voted in favor of Brexit, I think you are so much worse than that article made out.

You are the worst people I have ever had the misfortune of calling countrymen. You should be ashamed, embarrassed, and even if I don’t live in America forever, you can bet your arse I won’t be sharing the land I walk on with any of you.

Most of you are old. You are selfish. You are Thatcherite Nazis. Luckily, I don’t have to affiliate with any of you any more.

The embarrassing thing is, most of you voted to leave because you didn’t understand what was going on. Those of you too lazy to work, failed to do your research and have now had most of your funding cut. Upon discovering that you are actually all as awful as I first assumed, I made a promise to myself that I would never surround myself with such ignorance ever again.

You’ve fucked the climate. You’ve fucked the Pound. You’ve fucked yourselves.

Spoke Too Soon

I was in California when Donald Trump announced he was running for President. As a Republican, I paid little attention. My mother even WhatsApp’d me to ask if it was real.

My gut started paying attention to the campaign when Bernie Sanders started preaching (most of) my truths. However, I knew what was on the cards when every other Republican candidate dropped out of the race.

I mean, even Jeb Bush jumped ship?! Whomever pushed or paid or urged these career politicians to drop out must have some sort of long-term goal. It wasn’t normal. It wasn’t even practical or realistic. It is just plain weird that every Republican candidate dropped out before the Primaries, right?

The General Election

Everyone with a Liberal soul hates Trump, but there are a few things I can honestly say that I favor in his campaign policy. Unfortunately, these do not outweigh his public persona, his pussy grabbing, nor his stance on minorities and women. I am not known for being kind, nor charming, when voicing many of my opinions, but even I think that he was the least Presidential candidate.

Anyway, Trump won. I am sitting in a country, the country I fled to upon discovering that my homeland is full of fools, most of whom ended up searching Google for “What is Brexit?” after the polling stations had closed.

Have I made a huge mistake?


You see, for all the disappointment many Americans are feeling, this is democracy in play. The country wanted Trump, so they voted and the electoral college provided. We are still counting the votes, so maybe Hillary did win the popular vote. Tough. That is not how American democracy works.

Trump is already calling his wall a metaphor, which is exactly what I predicted would happen. I also think he will drop his stance on abortion, and maybe even just avoid drug policy in general. If the West Wing taught us anything, it is that Trump has 180 days of real policy work. 180 days to ruin a country might seem like a lot, but in real terms it just isn’t.

Worst case scenario, the City of London will not allow him to push the U.S. back into the dark ages. For those of you who understand this reference, I won’t ever expand on it ever again.

Here Is The Reality

I get eight years of Trump at the worst. Brexit is forever.

America voted for Trump, but Britain didn’t vote for Teresa May.

I am ashamed of the United Kingdom for their decision to leave the European Union. I am proud of America for voting with their hearts, even if it went so strongly against my own ideals. America truly is the land of the free, and I feel that freedom today as I write these words.

This is my opinion, and I can voice it and people will listen. My American peers may disagree, but they will do it with poise. They will voice their own opinion, and I will listen back. We will discuss and converse and teach and learn, and after it all we will still sit down together and share a meal.

That is why I am proud to be living in America today. That is the American dream.

Plus, it’s 90 degrees in Venice, California, and marijuana has been legalized, so it’s not all bad.

Eat that, Brexit!

After it all, with everything that everyone is feeling, I think Stephen Colbert summed it up fairly well. It certainly tugged at my heartstrings.

Featured Image By Gage Skidmore Via Flickr/CC-SA-2.0 and Screenshot Via Daily Motion

Kay Smythe is a freelance writer, social geographer, and senior writer at Anthony Gilardi's HIPPO LIFE. She was first published by Guardian Travel in the mid-2000s, which earned her the editorship at her college newspaper in 2010. From there, Smythe was opinion and news editor with The Tab, whilst maintaining a blog with Huffington Post. Her works featured interviews with Oscar and Emmy nominated actors. In early 2016, Smythe was awarded an O1 VISA. She lives and works in Venice, California, and loves it.