….The Evangelicals haven’t exorcised our president yet. Are they just going to leave the Bad Guy inside him?
A president recklessly sacrificing the lives of his citizens for nefarious reasons? Or making up conspiracy theories against democracy? Might there be a law against starting a war in order to hurt the incumbent (and America?) Or assassinating citizens or non-citizens abroad? If not, there ought to be. [I confess to wondering how Epstein died in prison].
Our AG thinks presidential powers should not be limited. Do we think that efforts by elected officials to blatantly attack our democratic underpinnings is okay? WHAT BALLS! I can imagine a future during which our ineptitude to set limits on our leaders’ retaliations or threats against subserviant appointees is blameworthy and cowardly, if not dangerous. We also need to put in writing the protocol of when it’s permitted to appoint new Supreme Court occupants, with nothing left to assumptions of fair play.
And would it be too much to ask for a mandatory vetting of presidential candidates? –Perhaps also while in office or running for office? What’s good for the goose is…
ON THE OTHER HAND… reblog
Despair. Despondency. Gloom. I see dark days ahead. Yes, Donald Trump will be out of office soon—or should be. But the crazies who put him in the White House aren’t going away.
Even if Trump were to concede graciously—any bets on that?—the insanity he brought to our nation’s political system will be with us for the foreseeable future. And my former people—white evangelicals—will be the primary perpetuators of the madness.
My despondency is tied to a series of recent emails with an evangelical pastor and his wife I’ve never met or conversed with until a few days ago. Here’s how it went down:
I watched a YouTube clip of this pastor on a program hosted by another white evangelical. The first question the host asked the pastor was about services at the pastor’s church. The pastor replied that his church had experienced no disruptions to their weekly services. Then he…
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During these days of depression, anger, helplessness, stagnation, paranoia, bickering, loneliness and stomach ulcers, I find myself thankful and appeciative of fellow bloggers and Word Press. Wherever I explore I seem to discover nuggets of blog postings. Love this one from iFunny.
I don’t feel sorry for you because that would be demeaning, but I do regret that you were a True Believer. For whatever reason, you believed and trusted your president. You were forgotten at an airport, and may be dead now due to the unprecedented spread of covid 19. Your commonsense has been subverted away from reality (otherwise known as science). You have been left to hang out to dry after all the deception.
One man with the virus was quoted as saying he was willing to die for the president (and probably did). Another died in hospital from the virus, saying it was a hoax. Another admitted she voted for our president because she felt good just looking at him. Believing in another’s honesty, integrity and caring are positive traits. What’s not right is the object of your idealism disdaining you, endangering, and gambling with your life to aggrandize his own. We have all been abused.
Our president’s recommendation for his base to celebrate Thanksgiving together and attend gatherings at church without masks while the virus is skyrocketing was not issued with caring for you, I fear, and not with your welfare in mind. I hope when this regrettable page of American history is behind us that we can reunite as one people with our barriers down, truth on our lips and respect for one another. Our trust has been violated, and I pray we recover.
Forgive me, I couldn’t resist this. Image by Jeffrey Zero via Unsplash. Did you never act out on an uncontrollable whim? Sorry for taking up your time…
Dumb Donald Trump
sat on his rump,
eating cheeseburgers all day.
He called for his Miller
and brownshirted killers
and hypocrite fundies to pray.
He called for his Barr
to make him a czar
and all rule of law to allay.
And to meet his requirement
that it trash the environment,
he neutered the EPA.
“To switch out democracy
for rank kakistocrasy,
I had but to bellow and bray.
I’ve drawn to my Trump
many millions of chumps
and given sweet Vlad complete sway.”
“I’ll call it a day,” the con man did say,
“Though I’m still president anyway.”
Then he farted and stood
and called it all good,
and went to a golf course to play.
The following is one paragraph from a g-mail addressed to “Nicola,” evidently a mass mailing error from a worthy cause.
“Some Indigenous Peoples refer to ‘Thanksgiving’ as the ‘National Day of Mourning.’ It is a day founded in a myth about this country’s origin–one that reframes a long history of attempted genocide as a friendly feast. This year many people are mourning loved ones lost to Covid, as well as state and vigilante violence. For some of us, this will be a different ‘Thanksgiving’ – one with limited contact due to Covid precautions. This is a time to mourn, reckon, fortify.”
The following is not an excuse, just some of my thoughts about the occurrence of prejudice in the world, throughout history. People say, “No one is born prejudiced,” and that is true to some extent. Since I have a blind side like almost everyone, I have probably been racist in my thinking and behavior at some point, but not very much so. On the farm I played with a little black boy down the road until my visits were not facilitated. A black woman who ironed for us was the person who told me there was a word for “the day before today” and a different one for “the day after today.” I remember playing at the home of some black folks who I now think must have been our sharecroppers. I remember once visiting a black church with my father, and I had a black family sleepover at my house in Atlanta when the Mule Train passed through on its way to Washington in the late sixties. In college I was a member of ADA and we traveled to hear Martin Luther King speak. (We had to wait a little because there was a bomb scare). But I have learned through reading that we all have something genetic that makes us culturally prefer those who carry our own genes. It’s called kinship selection. The “us-them” dichotomy can be seen everywhere. Social experiments with school children have been done in which the children were divided into those with blue eyes versus those with brown-eyes and pitted against each other. The hostility that crept up was shocking.
You may have noticed that Trump has been riding that regrettable fact. That would have been a “Us vs. Them” tendency, which is atop or under the kinship preference process, which seems to be atop an even more basic primitive, archaic tendency which involves the ancient widespread valuing of our own genes. This tendency resurfaces when folks are asked who of several people they would save if they could save only one of their family versus five, say, unrelated. I’ll be quiet now. I was on a rant. Blame it on self-quarantine. But it does point to the fact that we as humans have a problem we need to work on if we hope to have a more just and lasting world. (I know, preachy and it’s not even Sunday).
Very enjoyable post. (Not thinkingclearly again), . Are you related to Colemans of Henry Co., Va.?
Oniontown Pastoral: Sabbatical in the Writing Hut
On Friday, July 2, 1971, I was almost 10. Evonne Goolagong beat Margaret Court at Wimbledon, and Americans were humming Carole King’s “It’s Too Late,” baby. Richard Nixon and his associates were being tricky in all manner of things from D.C. to the Ho Chi Minh Trail.
Inconspicuous 7-2-71 is neatly painted on the wall in front of me in a chalky white. A normal person would have sanded the board and hit it with polyurethane, but Mr. Tyler, the previous resident of the Coleman house in Erie, Pennsylvania, obviously had good reason for dating the wood rather than burning it.
In any case, I’m far from normal. It’s not normal to make the walls and floor of your new writing hut out of hardwood scraps from an Amish lumberyard, leftover boards waiting above your garage rafters and tormented barn wood from Conneaut…
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I have a habit of reading the last few pages of novels, so I won’t waste my time building towards a disappointment. This Election 2020 Novella appears to have just shifted from being a tale of tragedy and horror to one worth having followed. Biden just had a televised ceremony in which he let some of his recent cabinet appointees introduce themselves. The inclusion of John Kerry as “Climate Czar” was especially heartwarming, as were the words of everyone else. I haven’t learned yet what prompted Trump to allow the transition to go forward. Maybe it wasn’t his doing–I’ll find out–but I wanted to acknowledge the resurgence of hope for the United States. I really prefer using the word “America,” but recall that we aren’t the entire continent.