I want to believe that there are other things to talk about. It’s just that every new day doesn’t feel totally new, which I guess would be the case even in normal times. A good night’s sleep doesn’t miraculously cure or erase the ailments of advancing age or dissipate the dark cloud that is the Trump administration.
The latter’s presence translates to daily wear and tear, a daily toll on many a psyche—in part because Trump is a daily embarrassment, and things often seem so bad, so much a caricature of evil and incompetence, that many of us can’t believe it’s real.
It is real, of course, and the longer it all goes on, the harder it will be to stop. It’s a battle of attrition; it has meant constant vigilance and protest at every turn. Many may be hoping that time itself will take care of the cancerous growths that have been allowed to spread, checked on occasion by litigation and protest but stunningly resilient. Letting things play out is not a cure, though.
Words come haltingly at times, because we’ve already used so many to describe the coldness and reckless abandon and deceit and zeal and almost cartoonish evil, along with a difficulty in believing that we could let such garbage through the door.
Endless verbal critique won’t rid us of the pestilence. We need to meet this coldness, this attack on reason and good judgment, with a dogged determination to preserve the founders’ vision, and to remind Trump and the rest that certain rules and guidelines are sacrosanct, in a non-religious sense, and not even he in all his ignorance masquerading as competence dare mess with trivializing their importance.
3 Cents' 