Ending My Battle with Trump Supporters

Exasperated by the usual Trumpian defense of his authoritarian aspirations, and asked to defend Democratic candidates, I posted, then gave up and deleted the response below, tired of my recurring role in The Trumpman Show.

I’m no nationally syndicated columnist. I’m no government official, former or current or soon to be former. Or soon to be current then frog-marched out of the building for my office-supply fetish, a condition that, I'll be the first to admit, got out of hand. My credentials as a would-be political analyst are wafer thin. I do not entertain a fantasy that one day the future equivalent of a Ken Burns documentary, America 2020: A Nation Gone Wild, will include a voice actor reading my Facebook posts, like the letter from Union Major Sullivan Ballou to his wife Sarah a week before his death at the first battle at Bull Run. (I am on my couch, typing this with my thumbs on an iPhone at the Battle of Sedentary Self-Amusement.) I do, however, pay attention. It’s all any of us can do! For while I may not be fully “woke” — a term that annoys me both for its pop-liberal self-righteousness and its assault on grammar — I will admit to being, at the very least, “groggy.” That is more than I can say for the Forever Trump Club.

My position is firmly and always has been grouchy, irritated by extremists to the right and the left, and often by my own kind, mostly because I hate being interrupted. "Hey, I let you talk, uninformed as you are!" I am immoderately moderate, a position that itself doesn’t shift so much as one I try to hold on to as things shift around it, a location that makes me feel superior to most people, except climate change activist Greta Thunberg and that little Japanese drummer girl, Yoyoka Soma, who thrashes John Bonham parts.

I adhere, but have strayed, from the Buddha’s Middle Way. I value, if I’m getting it right, Christ’s message of love, and to the extent I see the same in other religions, none of which I practice myself, mostly because I don’t care for the songs. I believe, as will any toxicologist or chef will tell you, that it’s all about dosage and proportion. Too much capitalism. Too much socialism. Too liberal. Too conservative. Is there ever just enough authoritarianism? Well, we do accept trace amounts of rodent feces in our diets, but it should never be a required ingredient.

Balance people. Balance. 

So, with that, and for what it’s worth.... If you find anything here of value or amusing, it is accidental. Anything glib or immature, well, it’s my reason for being.

“So how do I respond to this exactly? What could I possibly say, me, a person labeled here as a libtard, that would penetrate that propaganda-soaked mind of yours? 

"I am able to disagree and criticize the people you would say are on my team. I can find value in the positions of some (albeit weak-kneed) Republicans and conservatives. I don’t think you could say the same about your club.  

"I could point out how Trump’s subservience to global strongmen while shoving allies aside makes us less safe.

 "I could point out his many violations of everything from the constitution to invaluable norms strictly and solely for his personal enrichment. 

"I could point out his attacks on institutions at home — from intelligence professionals to scientists to judges and juries and many others, institutions and citizens we need to step up for the safety, health and protection of us all. 

"I could try to suggest that you’re being used, manipulated, and tricked. How we all fall prey to these things. 

"Or I could ask whether, when you and your buddy are watching Fox News together on your Cheeto-stained loveseat how exactly it is that you are able to give a Nazi salute and hold hands at the same time. 

"These are all things I could do. Instead I will back out of this room slowly and leave behind the disappointing scene I tripped into. Don’t forget to snuff out your tiki torch before heading off to bed. Good luck.”