For 38 years, I’ve had the distinct privilege of not living in fear of the President of the United States.
The vast majority of humanity has always existed under the boot, or sandal, or foot of one madman or another. I realize now how fortunate I’ve been.
In America, most of all, there are plenty of dandy dudes I’ve disagreed with, but they didn’t make me this anxious. Dead guys in dusty books never seemed very real, and the living war criminals I’ve seen televised look gray. Mundane. Pathetic. They belong in prison, sure, but they’ve never made me lose sleep.
“Middle Class White Guy Finally Feels Existential Political Angst,” guys, and it’s not The Onion.
I’ve noticed people have stopped sharing thinkpieces about how to handle the incoming regime. Maybe they’ve realized it’s like distributing a manual on punching tornadoes.
There’s also the mistake of comparing this thing to other things. It walks like a duck, but it has scales and tentacles and breathes fire. It quacks the speech of the Old Ones and sure, Daffy might have laid Europe to waste, but analogies be damned. Let’s call this what it is.
I’m shitty and wealthy enough to consider selling all my junk and moving, but then I remember there’s nowhere to run from America. We never really got into space, either, so I’m chained to this rock. America hunts us all with a bad bowl cut and a pneumatic cattle-puncher. No matter what far flung motel we find ourselves in, America will be sitting there, in denim, with a silenced shotgun.
One time, Cormac McCarthy removed all the commas from the Declaration of Independence. Then, he removed all the commas from the Bible. He put them in a bag and mailed them to me.
(He should have mailed it to the Marx Brothers.)
We can’t impeach our way out of this mess. Check out the line of succession. It’s creeps all the way down by design. We’ll have our new American monarch, the horrifying Head of State, too lazy to do his duty as Head of Government. He’ll leave governing to a guy who thinks you can cure homosexuality with electricity, and they’ll be taking cues from people who think science doesn’t have all the answers because it keeps asking all those pesky questions.
Oh, and breaks at work? Those aren’t really necessary.
I identify with the soon-to-be Commander-in-Chief in one way: Every time I criticize some slacktivist, I get asked for my CV and my tax returns. I’m not going to justify that shit with a response, either.
Nevertheless, I’ll stop blaming the pantsuited bourgeoisie for this if you can forgive sad, Brocialist losers like me. I’m ready, because every time this series of unprecedented events adds another tragic volume, I fear we’re just going to watch the frog boil. We’re appalled, but no one’s going to dump it out. Perhaps we can set aside our differences for a moment and get Kermit off the stove.
I want to apologize to the people who’ve always felt the way I’m feeling now. I’m sorry that you’re going to be insulted/ inconvenienced/incarcerated/incinerated long before most people who look like me begin to feel the chill. If it’s any consolation, the winter wind is howling straight up my ass.
When I was one of the young dudes, hoping for change, I used to throw a Alice Walker quote around. “We are the ones we have been waiting for.” The people who will rescue or destroy civilization walk among us.
Hell, wasn’t that always the case?