The difference, inshallah, is that detractors like to see themselves as capable of not exercising their lesser angels. Yes, there is a shadow of racism, perhaps, in my life, but I do what I can to keep it in check. But the fact that I may try to keep it in check means that there is some element that needs to be kept in check and thus what is checked is likewise given substance.
These are times I find galling. What a damned waste, boning up for yet more war and failing over and over to address with seriousness the issues of the day. Who will he hire and who fire ... and who gives a shit? Was there ever a policy this man actually had or wouldn't reject if it threatened his enthronement?
Donald Trump is a deserving whipping boy. His lack of moral capacity and his willingness to sell off my country is infuriating and confusing and never seems to end as one inconsequential aspect of life after another is allowed to drown out that which might nourish and unify and direct the land. Trump's trophy wife, Melania, for example, will go to the funeral of former first lady Barbara Bush, who died at 92. Trump managed only the most perfunctory of notes about the popular and down-to-earth Bush. Right or wrong, Bush was a unifying figure. She was lovable. Right or wrong, Trump cannot enter that spirit ... unless it has some financial advantage or refocuses the spotlight on him.
Galling ... and the best part about it is that I have less and less capacity to be galled ... which galls me the more and reduces me further into a Trump-like realm in which the only solution that presents itself is, Trump-supporter-fashion, "Shoot the son-of-a-bitch."
A quote attributed to the former conservative William F. Buckley, Jr. keeps rattling around in the above miasma:
Liberals claim to want to give a hearing to other views, but then are shocked and offended to discover that there are other views.
Parsing out samsara and our species is a journey into madness. A madness we can't say no to, not being buddha's.
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