I have spent the last several years in a continual state of
anger, disgust, and despair. Only recently have I come to understand at whom I am truly angry. I’m not angry at Trump. He is who he is, who he has always been: a
braggart, a narcissist, a bully, an uneducated
man who has been given enormous power.
I am not even angry at his true believers, his most fervent
acolytes. There seems to be no doubt in
their minds that he is The One. The one
to lead us and represent us in the world.
The one to set our standards of behavior. The one to whom we look in times of
crisis. Even if Trump draws us into
nuclear war with Russia or China or Iran, these followers will undoubtedly blame
the other country. Something very, very
personal is going to have to happen in their lives for them even to
consider changing their minds.
No, I’m mad at those men and women to whom we have also
given a great deal of power, those who scorned and reviled Trump when he was a candidate
but since have become his strongest enablers.
They’ve made it clear that they recognize how terribly unsuited he is
for the office of President. However, once he was
elected they realized that his inexperience and ignorance were gifts to their
party, that they would be able to mold his agenda to theirs, turn him into
their mouthpiece. These people are devoted by choice. It is they who frighten and disgust
me. Don’t they realize that their pet is
out of control and actually could take us into a devastating war? History will deal harshly with these people,
but that is little consolation now.
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