Sometimes I have the right idea but don’t follow through. Back in 2016, I blogged my opinion on presidential election debates:
I explained my reasoning, tying it to a saccharine sweet political suppository delivered by Bill Clinton in 1992. Bill’s performance was too theatric; my whole body rejected the manipulation.
“Bill nailed it! He turned his gaze slightly upwards, as if viewing an imaginary and gorgeous place. Somewhere far off and wonderful. The media did their part too, the camera angle changed. Suddenly we were looking from a lower vantage point upwards to our heroic father figure. He was looking at what must’ve been a studio ceiling but he made it look like he was gazing upon the face of God. He glanced left and then he glanced right. He did it just the way they teach you; so the spotlights catch your eyes and they twinkle. And it worked! His eyes twinkled like he was Santa Claus. Then he said something. After his warm up whatever he said didn’t matter but he nailed that too. It was something about how great family was. It talked about love, and joy, and the mutual bonds we all hold dear.
It was a fucking Hallmark moment. And I was repulsed.”
I learned my lesson 28 years ago. Unfortunately, four years after suffering the grossest election I’d ever experienced I let my guard down. I watched the Trump/Biden debates. Rudyard Kipling knows why:
“the Dog returns to his Vomit and the Sow returns to her Mire,
And the burnt Fool’s bandaged finger goes wabbling back to the Fire;”
The whole thing bummed me out. I wasn’t surprised that Trump behaved like a howler monkey on crack and Biden just barely managed to stay lucid enough to mumble lies and shout “shut up clown”. They both suck. We already knew that. I have made peace with that. The thing that bothered me is deeper.
Misery loves company, so I’m going to share my little mental adventure with you. Perhaps you too see the depths of the situation? Maybe you’ll see a silver lining I’m missing. Stay tuned.