Butchblog

and other impossible to answer questions

It’s by now an old refrain: “I didn’t think it could get any worse, and then it did.” No point in even reviewing the list of horrors, big and small. Though I can’t resist remarking on his grinning acceptance of Maria Machado’s Nobel Prize. Such indignity—for both of them. Such a pathetic gesture. Such a small, ugly man. No name required. I’m writing again about this soulless narcissist, because I can’t drive him out of my brain. Nor can I conscientiously ignore his evil actions. You have to be aware of the enemy. And I’m certain that more and more American citizens, as well as the citizens of the world, recognize the naked evil emperor as the enemy. Just ask a Greenlander, or a Venezuelan, or, damn it, anybody at all except his rapidly decreasing base. And those still in that camp are, indeed, base.

            For me it all came to a head, with the murder of  Renee Nicole Good, a 37-year-old mother and poet, by ICE thugs, the president’s personal hit squad. The whole world saw it and and was horrified. The president’s toadies called it self-defense. Four gun-shots into a defenseless woman only trying to drive away.  That battle still rages on, our federal government attacking peaceful protesters, and “investigating” the democratic officials who are standing up for basic decency, something in very short supply these days.

            Okay, Butch, stop ranting, offer solutions. You can’t only sit around and be upset, snarling in disgust every time his face or words appear. But, hell and damnation, I just don’t know anymore. Yes, there are the elections. I guess that is our best bet to slow piggie down. But will he try to corrupt or cancel the mid-terms? You can bet good money on it. At this point I’m struggling to see or hear what can actually make all the horrors stop. I know we can make our voices heard, win cases in the courts, and listen to the righteous outrage of good leaders, but without some sort of enforcement mechanisms, the torture and cruelty continues—and grows larger. I don’t know what that enforcement will look like.  I’m still putting my time and money into the resistance. I think everyone who is worried about preserving democracy needs to stand up and be counted. I admit, though, I’m at a low point, feeling somewhat hopeless. But I do recognize that that is exactly how these vermin want me to feel. They want me to give up. To hide out. To be afraid of their threats. And to that I say—not in this life.