I don’t have it in me to search through thousands of posts to find what I was feeling the day Trump was elected. If he wins again, I’ll make that post. I can say this: more and more I feel my own mortality and the awesome fragility of this society we’ve created. We say it’s built to last and it has endured in one form or another for thousands of years. Yet our weapons keep getting stronger and we keep cycling through leadership that is becoming more and more unstable, standing on the backs of smaller and smaller ego-driven men who “know” what is best for all of us, even and especially when so many of us disagree.
This is far from a healthy time and we are far from a healthy people. Just today I bought a Covid test only to learn that the thing is more closely designed to allow you to say you don’t have Covid than to prove you don’t. The number of times they tell you to re-test and then see your doc for an actual medical opinion regardless is telling. It is telling me that we aren’t getting better. We getting more refined at covering our ass and maximizing our profits at the expense of others—particularly the disenfranchised, who we use, sell to, and ultimately need.
Tomorrow is a scary time. That it is even a choice for so many Americans speaks to collective amnesia, denial, and the sheer stupid will to say you weren’t ever wrong. So many act like things were better under Trump yet refuse to acknowledge any of the chaos that plagued his administration. What is acknowledged is the failure of those around him and his eminent intelligence and strength fire those poor sods he hired in the first place. Because nothing is ever his fault and he never ever does anything wrong or ever has been wrong about anything.
we want so badly to roll with that idea — that falsely framed ideology of the Alpha male fantasy that we are willing to lie to ourselves to make it happen.
we are all passengers on this social titanic and we are about to crash into a second iceberg. Only this may be the one that finally sinks us. There will be movies to herald that fall. I don’t believe they’ll be love stories.