I awoke this morning to my own fears staring me in the face.
A man who peddals in the seductive politics of fear has successfully played upon the heartstrings of the disenchanted among us. He has found a large and growing mob of angry people who recognize the party they’ve been dancing at since the 1960’s is playing Bing Crosby and asking them to do the foxtrot. But what they think is a better choice is Ted Nugent and slam dancing. They are being asked to continue to say no to statesmanship because being a statesman is no better than being a capitulator in chief, a weak kneed yellow belly… They are being told that the Grand Old Party is still their party but all they see is old men who talk of the Greatest Generation. Unfortunately most of those men and women are largely silent and quietly wobble their heads in silent objection without a clue how to talk to these neo-cons that so desperately need leadership that says something other than no. No. No.
Enter an even angrier man who knows their anger and has a host of people to blame for their disappointments. Who points his finger and says that it’s not your fault, it’s not your parties fault, it’s the brown mans fault. It’s that religion you don’t understand… And frankly don’t want to. It’s their fault. It’s the fault of years of outsourcing jobs to people who are only to happy to take them because your well fed asses are unwilling to do them, but no matter. It’s still their fault for agreeing to do the work. It’s the party across the streets fault for not being as angry as you are. It’s everyone’s fault but yours. You’ve no dog in this fight. You have nothing to be ashamed of. No bone to pick with him because your country iOS in the toilet. Why because he has been on television long enough and built enough buildings to know just how to fix everything. All it will take is a wall and a few deportations. Then when we are completely isolated form the world and no one outside of these shores is willing to deal with us but must because they’ve no choice, then we will be in a much better position to dictate terms. To dictate how great we will again be.
But these are ploys that prey upon old fears. Play upon memories that have no foundation in truth. Play upon anger that is illogical. Play upon strings that pluck kitchen table race conversations that vibrate loudly in small homes all across America. These are the politics of fear, segregation, fascism, dictatorial edicts that are couched in American exceptionalism.
And the other party plays songs of we shall overcome. Plays tunes in b-flat minor that says rings hollow and stale. But it’s ok because we can still make history. We can see over the horizon. We have come a long way baby and we shouldn’t stop now. The other party has cookies and punch. The latest dance moves and a tent with no sides because all are welcome. But the scary old party across the street that plays those old songs can’t hurt us or drown us out. We are on the right side of history the other party shouts with arms raised up and heads held high. The other party says that we are so great that there’s nothing to fear but fear itself and we need not give in to it. We are better than that. We are able to vote for something instead of against something. Vote for someone rather than against someone. To be positive rather than negative.
We are told to be the change we want to see. We are told that the man behind the curtain has a hot air ballon and he’s going to leave you if you don’t kill the wicked witch. But in the end, he leaves us anyway. We all know how the story ends. And no one seems to care. No one seems to be strong enough to pull the rug out from under the fox-trotters and remind them that they are better than this. That they do not need to stay angry. They don’t need to continue to dance angrily and shake their fists. To throw the brown man out and ridicule the disabled. The joke isn’t funny anymore and really…. It never really was funny.
But now, it’s downright dangerous to laugh at these jokes. It’s actually going to get someone hurt or killed to continue to chuckle into bended elbows or cupped hands. It’s dangerous to shout at Pink to put him up against the wall while the band plays loudly and the crossed arms are thrust forward and back. It’s dangerous to hear the voice of God’s main man on earth speak truth to power and then say he has no right to speak about another mans faith. Convictions. Self aggrandizement.
The days are now rather dangerous. It is time for the Force to take on the Dark Side and not faint. To lift up the bloodstained banner and wave it bravely. To reawaken the young, old, faithful, lovers, bleeding hearts and artists, the educated and the dreamers. The wealthy and the poor. A call to arms where the best weapon is a pen and a calm voice is pulled out of mothball and flung into the ring. The bell is sounded and the boxers have left their corners.
Lets watch what happens next.