Lots. Too much.
Tell me about it.
Donald Trump is so horrible. He’s a reproach to humankind. He’s every single one of our failings — arrogance, conceit, narcissism, vulgarity, indecency, ignorance, depravity, cruelty — bundled into one sack of skin, into one bag of bones.
So what else is new? Even people who voted for him know that.
He’s everything that we hope our children will not become. He’s a photographic negative of an admirable human being.
Can we talk about something else? I try not to think too much about politics these days. It’s too painful.
Donald Trump is what you wish you had not glimpsed when you turned over that rock: a wriggling mass of dead-white larvae sinking slowly back down into the black earth. He’s a pus-filled excrescence on a suppurating wound. He’s that whiff of moldering putrefaction that makes the bile rise in your throat.
Don’t you think you’re getting a little carried away?
Am I? Donald Trump is a walking, talking version of the Freudian id. He’s the monstrous nothing from the dark space under every child’s bed. He’s the throbbing, disembodied, mind-controlling brain from Madeleine L’Engle’s classic novel A Wrinkle in Time, compelling conformity and demanding abject surrender and slavish obedience. He’s the embodiment of all the fears that our Founders had for the Republic.
Come on, now. Our country survived the Civil War. We survived the Great Depression. We survived Hitler, Mussolini, and Tojo. I think we can survive the ineptitude and venality of Donald Trump. Take a chill pill, dude.
Those threats were at least immediate and substantial. They set the stage for great feats of courage, for Abraham Lincoln and Franklin Delano Roosevelt, for Victory Gardens and collection drives, for Walt Whitman and Woody Guthrie, for rising-to-the-occasion achievements and triumphs of American ingenuity and it’s-darkest-just-before-the-dawn national resolve. I’ll take Evil over evil, if you know what I mean. Donald Trump is a whimper not a bang. In whatever ways he’s not simply vile, he’s contemptible mediocrity incarnate. He’s just so freaking small.
Yeah, well, it’s not like they weren’t saying roughly the same things about Barack Obama. All politicians are kinda sleazy, if you ask me. I’d rather not have anything to do with any of them. I’ve got plenty to worry about in my own life, thank you very much.
That’s bullshit. A copout.
If everyone had voted, we wouldn’t be where we are now. If everyone resolved to do just one thing, say, just once a month, maybe, that Donald Trump couldn’t even conceive of doing and would never do if he could imagine it, we’d never have to deal with the likes of him again. You’d rather not be soiled and tainted by all this? Sorry, that’s not an option. Just remember what Gandalf told Frodo in the Mines of Moria, the next time you read a tweet from the Great Lidless Eye that heaps scorn on some person or group who’s refused to fawn and flatter to his satisfaction:
Ugh. I suppose you’re right. Though I sorta hate you now.
I can live with that. See you at the next meeting of the Resistance?
As long as there’s food.