Can’t Let It Go

I frequently wonder how supporters of the current president sleep at night. I’m sure they’d be only too happy to tell me, “Just fine, asshole,” secure in their conviction that everything is ok, that America is on its way to being great again. Whatever the hell that means.

I grow more weary every day, more convinced that this president is a freak, a puppet, a monster. 

I grow less hopeful that the Mueller investigation will offer up the biggest prize- Trump himself- or that ultimately it can operate above and apart from efforts at obstruction. That it won’t end up being relegated to the bone pile as, at least in part, just another expensive partisan witch hunt.

We are left to endure and wade through the invective, the distractions, the accusations of fake news. It all moved beyond tiring and frustrating a long time ago.

We are in a bad place right now. This so-called leader of the free world doesn’t really care about the world. All he cares about is his own image and undoing everything from the previous administration.

He’s a bridge burner and a wall builder, and he’s making America great again. He’s trying to bring coal back and instigating a trade war, and he’s making America great again. He’s elevated the practice of nepotism to new heights. He appeals to the worst aspects of human nature. He plays to fear, to an America closed in on itself. He’s the voice of the local racist homophobic misogynist near you. He’s the voice of the paranoid “patriot” who’s just aching for The Government to give him reason to load the AR-15 and play militia man. He appears to be in the back pocket of the NRA and Vladimir Putin. He thinks paying taxes is for schmucks. He emanates the fragile courage of a schoolyard bully. He says he doubts the science behind climate change. He appeals to Christians who think people and dinosaurs lived at the same time, who think the world is 6000 years old and maybe flat. He thinks President for life is an idea that has merit. But he’s making America great again.

Or maybe he’s none of that and he’s just wingin’ it, playing to his “base,” a front man for the vermin and incompetents who populate his inner circle. Either way, this conduit for sewage trying to pass for someone who cares is just a dispenser of bilge water. And paper towels. 

Nothing more than a high-stakes reality TV host. Which, unfortunately, is right up his alley.

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