From Friend via Facebook

From FB friend Brent Peeples. So incredibly well-stated. Thank you, Brent.

“Has Trump uttered a single word about those who have died or are sick from the virus? Has he mentioned Americans stranded in other countries?

No, he hasn’t. His singular focus is the economy. Why? Because his electoral fortunes are tied to the economy. As are those of his businesses. And Trumpflakes see nothing wrong with it.

When this nightmare mercifully ends, I never want to hear how we need a businessman to run the show ever again. Even if it’s a successful businessman, unlike this con man.

You’re going to see the country become even more divided over the next few weeks. The change is already apparent on Fox News and Trump’s twitter feed.

Money over people. Social distancing will soon be looked at as a partisan affair to destroy Trump. As the virus spreads, he’ll blame governors and mayors and the media and Democrats.

It’s what he does. It’s all he knows. Tell people whatever he thinks will sell the moment.

The thing I’ve come to realize is that the Republican Party no longer has an identity without Trump. They’ll follow him right off a cliff. The GOP has been subsumed into the Trump Organization.

Last night, the Lt. Gov. of Texas went on Fox News and said that grandparents would rather die of the virus than keep the economy shutdown for much longer. Yes, he really said that. Something something about grandkids and freedom. He said his “heart was lifted after hearing the president speak” [about the cure being worse than the disease].

The World Health Organization just warned that the United States could become next epicenter of global coronavirus crisis, citing ‘very large acceleration’ in U.S. infections. Wonderful. There is a direct correlation between the Trump administration calling COVID-19 a “hoax” and “the flu” and all kinds of other bullshit to the skyrocketing infection numbers.

We’re so far past the point of agreeing to disagree with these lunatics. It’s not just “politics.” It’s life and death. One party wants to err on the side of caution. It wants to do everything possible to prevent human suffering. It listens to experts and uses a scientificaly-based approach to flattening the coronavirus curve.

The other side is filled with ignoramuses who think it’s a fair tradeoff to lose 1-3% of the population in order to push the stock market numbers up.

Ironically, the former is a group that was falsely accused of setting up “death panels” when it helped millions of Americans receive access to healthcare.

The latter calls itself the “pro-life” party but it’s nothing more than a death cult. Choose your fighters wisely. And don’t expect me to agree to disagree when you’re okay with millions of people dying.”

(Thanks, family, for sharing this.)

P.S. Gallia County, where my daughter lives at GDC, just had its first death from novel-C today.

About Nan Mykel

I used to think I would be a child prodigy, but then I got old. Formerly I had fantasies of rubbing elbows with cultural and academic leaders but that did not come to pass because I did not become a cultural or academic leader or any other kind of leader, for that matter. I am not even an "Alpha Dog," a term learned from a friend who had to become "Alpha Dog" in order to influence her own pet. (When gazes lock, she never looks away.) For years I expected to become a published author, but in passing I could not avoid the fact that I had little to contribute to the world's bulging dumpsters. I'm embarrassed to report that I also considered my primary process artistic productions powerful, rather than mildly neurotic. Which is not to say that I disrespect myself, only that I am beginning to doubt my potential for making a mark on the world. If I focus on strict self discipline I may be able to keep my garbage removed on a weekly basis, to keep the kitty box changed, the clothes cleaned, the dog watered, fed and walked, but that just catches me up to the starting mark again. When writing I physically grapple with words, wrestling them from their indifference into attempted chunks of awareness. I sit heavily on my chair; I breathe in artificially cooled air; my ear drums note the tap tap of the keyboard and the steady uninterrupted sound of the air conditioner, What is that sound? The roar of the ocean from 30 yards away...Inside, my thoughts are are balls in an electronic game machine, bouncing hither and yon from lever to lever. I am a little grim and intent until I recall a dream related by a black man in the prison where I once worked. He said that when he was a small boy, back home, he dreamed he was standing on his front porch pissing, and that he suddenly found himself pissing stars...
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