12.9.23
Good morning.
How alarmed should we be?
Very.
What should we do about it?
Whatever we can.
Suddenly onlookers and the media are waking to the chance of Trump’s restoration. Notwithstanding endless evidence of his villainy and vileness, he may reclaim the Presidency and if he does, it will be without the constraints of either Congress or conscience. Trust his words and actions – his threats are not for effect. He means to be a dictator, to punish his detractors, and replicate in America the tyranny of Putin, Xi, Hitler, and the others he envies, reducing America to a sorry label and all of us to servitude.
But this can’t happen. This is America!
Smart humans have said the like before – in Rome, before its Fall; in Germany, before Hitler’s election (yes, election). This shit happens – and will. Because there will always be bullies who seek to dominate their playground. Trump’s ignorance and incompetence may be laughable, but his ego is insatiable.
("I found much that was alarming about being a citizen during the tenures of Richard Nixon and George W. Bush,” wrote the late Philip Roth. “But whatever I may have seen as their limitations of character or intellect, neither was anything like as humanly impoverished as Trump is: ignorant of government, of history, of science, of philosophy, of art, incapable of expressing or recognizing subtlety or nuance, destitute of all decency, and wielding a vocabulary of seventy-seven words that is better called Jerkish than English.")
I do not believe Trump will win. I believe he will lead his nativist revolt, like Saint Patrick Ireland’s rats, to the cliff and over. I believe that on November 6, 2024, all persons of sense will heave a giant, even tearful sigh of relief.
Belief, though, is hardly certainty. I’ve been wrong often enough to distrust my hunches. I was certain Hillary Clinton would be President; Gore too. I’d have promised – promised! – Trump’s reemergence was impossible after all he’d done. So I take no comfort from my belief, the opposite rather. I could be wrong – and then what? Where could I – or any of us – flee? R.I.P., Civilization. Behold a new – and darker – Dark Age – if humanity survives.
Panic kneecaps. We must quit moaning about our predicament and get busy piling sandbags into levees and hammering arks for the coming flood. Our doom may be inevitable, but that we’ll only know after; right now we must outrun it if we can. Beware all who console you a second Trump term would not “be that bad”; these are the Quislings of an earlier war. Trump will fulfill his promises – of a vindictive dictatorship and the end of the rule of law. Take his word – not because he’s a man of his word, but because he does what he pleases, to hell with anyone else.
How to prevent him?
Easy – if we all do all we can. But we won’t. Few have wakened to our jeopardy and of those, many postpone buttoning their uniforms. That would be me. I talk a good game, but when it comes to sacrifice, enlisting, emptying my wallet, disrupting my cushy life? Well, maybe tomorrow – plus, I’m retired – haven’t I put in my time? – is it up to me? Humans are the only excuse-mongering animal. Puppy Henry may, on practical grounds, regret his transgressions, but he does not deny them or mischaracterize them as something they’re not.
We’ve got ten months to stop this guy, each day one day less. I’m sounding the tocsin; we all should. What else should we do? Anything we can think of to save ourselves.