What a suck year it has been. I shall be relieved to toss it in the dumpster. I mean, I did not personally suffer too terribly, but too much of it squicked me out. And, of course, my aunt found her peace after months of round two of the big c – on my birthday, no less, what a fucking gift.
How much did the year suck for you?
Sorry to hear about your relative, though that personal tragedy doesn’t make 2017 better or worse for the average person.
Really the main problem with Trumpism is that it seems that if you are ignorant and outrageous enough and a liar enough, you face basically no more consequences that if you lie just a little. Hillary told some lies, but they were relatively infrequent. Yet the last time she lied “stays” in the headlines, even if it was months ago, while the last time Trump lied, you know, this week, stays in the headlines.
If you just parse the headlines you might make the false equivalency that they are both liars and untrustworthy and thus indistinguishable.
A-fucking-men. That said, I can’t help but remember a quote from the old Ken Burns documentary, The Civil War; from the Northern diarist and lawyer George Templeton Strong (as voiced by the late George Plimpton):
We can only hope that things will start to look a bit brighter after the first Tuesday in November, 2018; but I think it’s going to be a long fucking year any way you look at it.
I knew on that cold November night, in 2016, this was going to be a bumpy year. I was a little wrong, we haven’t use any really big bombs yet.
Are you hoping to back the winner in the 2018 Melbourne Cup? 
I’m going to bet every penny I’ve got on Ready For The Glue Factory to win it all. I’ll get great odds, and then I’ll be so rich I won’t give a damn about the rest of you peons anymore. Bring on my tax cuts!
Politically, this year has been more hopeful than I would have figured if you’d asked me in between November 9, 2016 and January 20, 2017.
But my wife lost one of her closest friends in January, and she lost her mom in September. Her grandmother, nearly 94 years old, is in late-stage dementia in a nursing home. I’ve been through worse times than this. She hasn’t. This time is just really, really hard for her.
Started out well for me. Bit by bit all of my optimism was eaten away. Don’t let the door hit you on the ass on your way out 2017.
Wholeheartedly Agree, Fuck 2017.
In addition, fuck me in 2017. I let depression and pessimism rule my year, and failed miserably at every single goal I had, and left 2018 me with some holes to climb out of that were totally needless to dig.
Add me to the list.
2017 gave me a broken wrist. My wrist healed well (Yay!), but in the process of healing the wrist, 2017 revealed that I am destined to a life of chronic pain. My back is fused. My back builds WAY too much extra bone. I’m just fucked.
2017 was a decidedly mediocre year, personally speaking. I can’t even point to a major personal disaster; just no noteworthy accomplishments. And now, a second year of Trumpism. Bleagh.
Pretty fucked up year. I fell into the Trump slump along with many others, realized that it was a trap, and have mostly pulled myself away from it. Put on about half the weight I lost. One of my kids relapsed in a huge way, lost his job, had repeated ER visits (the latest one after falling down his basement stairs); he’s lucky to be alive. While it didn’t happen to me, the induced stress has been unpleasant. Had to have about $8,000 in repairs to our basement floor. I’m determined to have a better year in 2018.
Still stressed out about politics, still having mental health issues, cat still has cancer.
Yeah, good riddance to 2017, but I’ve got no great hopes for 2018 being much better.
Thank goodness the 18th year of the millennium is almost over.
2017 was a pretty good year. I did find out I have a medical problem, but now have it pretty much under control. I say fuck Trump, and I refuse to let him ruin a year for me.
Just one medical problem and Trump? Almost everyone over 50 is in that position. Your bar for a bad year is pretty low 
Even Trump has at least one medical problem + the fact that he is himself.
You mean the fact that he defines the word ‘pinguid’?
That sounds a a family name. Pinguido Trumpolini.
Middle name ‘Plethorico’.