It is hard to talk about anything else.

That the antecedent of “it” needs no mention proves the point. Fear bores into our psyches. Fear of oldsters and the less affluent for their health. Fear of convicted thugs roaming the streets and political thugs taking a wrecking ball to our rules. Fear for our safety, as antagonistic incompetents mangle science, emergency management, our national defense. Fear that control of our military and intelligence services will be entrusted to halfwits whose sole credential is robotic loyalty to a maniac. Fear of economic havoc and for our privacy. Fear of replacing allies we trust with enemies we can’t. Fear that those enemies will take advantage of our distraction to pounce. Fear for freedom of expression and the truth. Fear of the Gulag, Guantanamo, goons with tasers at our door…

You get the picture. Fears ignite fears till an apocalypse blazes in our dreams. Never in seven decades have I felt unprotected by my government, threatened if I miff the boss. The feeling’s unsettling. As never before I empathize with history’s conquered and oppressed. Am I soon to be herded onto a railroad car? Crazy talk, you say? So were death camps before they happened – impossible to believe – in that civilized nation – yet there they were – yesterday’s dignified bodies burned and bulldozed like so much trash.

So what do we do about IT? That’s the second theme of our predictable conversational sonata. No whining while the boat is sinking. Who cares how we got here, none of us may survive – or want to. So what’s the plan?

There is no plan – not yet – which frustrates the frantic – but one is emerging. We the people were caught flat-footed, ill-equipped. For a decade I’ve been writing that this could happen here but did I believe it? As with the philosophes in the evening of the French monarchy, revolution was theoretically possible – but practically impossible. I hollered – but did I buy a gun?

The simple answer is: the right thing to do is anything we can think of. Harry yourself onto a war footing. During war one chooses sides – and wishes the worst for one’s enemies. Either you’re for us or against us and if you’re against us to hell with you. “Truth and reconciliation,” kumbaya and coziness, can come later when the shooting stops. Don’t delay a moment – the crisis is now.

More specifically? Identify your antagonists and punish them. Deluge your elected representatives with fury – whatever their party label, they could be doing more. No more temporizing!

Participate in protests. Quit Tesla and X. Pause Amazon or Facebook. (Amazon? Oy!) Drub lily-livered collaborators. Granted, one wasp sting won’t dissuade but a million can kill.

Plant a victory garden.

Quit being amiable. If you’ve sided with the other guys, I seek your surrender, not your society. After, if my side wins, I’ll forgive (maybe), but for now no pretending the stakes aren’t dire. Invite the animosity of your foes. Their leader gleefully pummels in public – reciprocate! If folks you know are waffling, force them to pick sides – and to experience the pain of picking wrong.

Am I ruining your day? Sorry. I hate to – but I mean to, if it’s not ruined already. War leaves us no choice. Do-or-die turns morality on its head. Were the German pastors right to plot Hitler’s assassination? They agonized – and concluded yes. To kill the killer of millions of innocents was their moral duty.

Is America at that point yet? Maybe not quite – but we’re whooshing in that direction. Not to act is to betray our trust.