PSS

More frequently of late, I’ve caught myself looking at things with pangs of melancholy, as if they’re likely to go away soon. I’m wary of disruptions to come, because events and conditions both domestic and foreign are conspiring to plunge us once again into chaos and conflict.

Even though nothing has happened yet, I’m already grieving the absence of warmth, electricity, peace and quiet, the comfort of routine. I’m moved by the beautiful yet somehow gut-wrenching innocence of grandchildren who carry on blissfully unaware of the evil intentions and hate swirling around them.

I find myself disappointed in and furious with humanity, because our memory for ugliness and depravity seems to fade so quickly. We apparently have learned little from all that has come before. The next megalomaniacs eventually emerge—”leaders” who need to prevail, who think nothing of inflicting pain and suffering in the name of “principles” and “ideals” that turn out to be nothing more than products of envy and greed and paranoia.

This, apparently, is our lot for centuries and millennia to come, though it’s doubtful we’ll be around for anywhere near that long.

So it begins. Again. Another 4-year nightmare with a 78-year old who has no idea what he’s doing, besides saving his own ass, with no appreciation for what it used to mean to be President of the United States.

Way to go, MAGA Nation. You’ve finished the job.