I Wish I Had Something Good to Say.
When I think of my life these days, I'm reminded of the movie Clerks. The main character, Dante, is oft heard lamenting that he's not even supposed to be here, today. That's me.
It wasn't always this way. Two years ago, I had only just begun to feel uneasy. Liberals were doing too much. The wild behavior exhibited by the supporters of Bernie Sanders, the remnants of Occupy, the attacking of Confederate monuments and symbols- all of these things contributed significantly to the undercurrent of tension that I feared with all my heart would lead to the defeat of Hillary Clinton and the unending suffering for everyone everywhere that comes with that.
I didn't want to get involved in politics. Chemistry, chess, computer science. History, philosophy, classic literature. These were my loves; my books were my best friends. And I would have been perfectly content to remain on my mountaintop until the day I died, uninvolved with troublesome society and far removed from the tiresomeness that comes along with that. This, however, is not how things turned out.
As the weeks turned into months, and we got closer to the primary, I began to notice an extremely alarming trend among the far left, who viewed Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump as being essentially the same. I hope every single member of Bernie or Bust dies of a brain embolism while reading that accursed budget plan of Trump's.
Gradually, I became disgusted. It was starting to become clear that these people really meant it. They were actually going to oppose the wolfish Republicans and the naked ravenous greed of Trump with this guy. A half- insane, 74 year old socialist, with a blue clown suit and a 25 year long Senate record of doing absolutely not one thing. It was terrible. I knew it would be a disaster for all involved if people decided to take him seriously, and it was.
Bernie Sanders was to spend the next six months of his life vilifying Hillary Clinton to no avail. It still only earned him a paltry 13 million votes in the primary. All that it did do, is incite his devotees into a slavish frenzy of anti- Clinton fervor. Never mind that she'd been the most popular politician in America before Bernie. After they got through, she was Typhoid Mary.
I saw all these things. I watched them as they happened. I fought them every way I could. Through direct encounter and social media both, I refuted them again and again. Eventually they resorted to the only weapon they had left. They mass- reported my FB account until it was finally deactivated. That's what led to the creation of this blog.
At this point, it's all terribly familiar, and the disgrace of it becomes deeper every day. The foolish Trump slime, who continue to hail disaster as victory and chaos as order, think that disgrace belongs to us Democrats, and they are right, in the sense that all Americans will forever be disgraced by the soiling of the White House in this manner. However, it is they who are eternally damned for this. They will never be forgiven. We remember the face of every last one of the morons out there with those stupid Trump hats and buttons.
And there you have it. As Baby Herman said, in Who Framed Roger Rabbit, The whole thing stinks. Like yesterday's diapers. One of these days, if order ever restores itself, I'll be singing its praises with all my might. Until then, I'll be right here, bearing witness to the horrors of these interesting times.
