Random thoughts on a day when rage and grief make it nearly impossible to string ideas and words together in any kind of cohesive manner.
The Loved One and I got up this morning, sat on the sofa, and cried.
I cried in the shower as well.
When I woke up, I had this delicious fantasy wherein while I tossed and turned through the night, Hillary Clinton had miraculously garnered enough electoral votes from the scant remaining states that hadn’t yet reported when I’d drifted off and — voila! magic! the hand of god! — won.
It gave me succor for a precious moment.
Renaldo Migaldi, editor at the University of Chicago Press, whose forebears lived through Mussolini’s reign writes this:
Many of my family members, including my father, lived under fascism for years. It was significantly worse than anything we’re likely to see here. They lived their lives, and they made it through. And so will we.
Richard Lloyd, professor of sociology at Vanderbilt University, writes this:
I really enjoyed the many posts yesterday of friends, especially women, thrilled to cast their vote for Hillary Clinton. I was too. I’m really not interested in hearing about what was “wrong” with her as a candidate. Nothing was wrong with her. She is not corrupt and she ran a serious, dignified campaign capping a lifetime of committed public service. I’m proud of her, and proud to have supported her, and my heart breaks for her, and for all of us who share her vision for an inclusive America.
At last America has thrown off the sheep’s clothing that we, a nation, care about others — others outside our boundaries and others within. We care about wealth. The more, the better. We’ve elected very rich men to the presidency in the past. There were Roosevelt and Kennedy, to name two. But they had thoughts. They had philosophies. They had a modicum of love in their hearts for those who were broke, who were impotent, who were hopeless. The incoming president has none of these tender feelings. He ran, and he was elected, for the sole reason that he’d amassed an enormous amount of money. We now, unabashedly and unapologetically, worship wealth. These other objects of worship we pay lip service to? God. Our fellow sisters and brothers. Decency. They are as nothing today. Never has America been more true to itself than it was yesterday.
I’ll be able to do quite well, thank you, without constant social media reminders of the shocking things the incoming president will say or do. We know what he’s capable of. He’s going to continue to deliver.
And that goes for any alarming uglinesses of his followers, who’ve no doubt been emboldened by his terrifying victory yesterday. Yes, yes, yes, lunatics will set fire to sleeping homeless men, white supremacists will assault people of darker skin, men will continue to piss all over women. Don’t sit back and tut-tut these inevitabilities. Your keyboard outrage will be meaningless. Fight back with everything you’ve got.
We, who’d spouted optimism in the lead-up to yesterday, underestimated the depths of selfishness in the hearts of tens of millions of our fellow citizens. No, wait — we overestimated the nation. America’s too smart to elect Donald Trump president? My ass.
Yesterday afternoon, Mayor John Hamilton told me he was nervous. I told him he was being silly. I ticked off my predictions — as delineated herein Monday morning. Last night, in the middle of the hall where the Monroe County Democratic Party candidates and faithful had gathered, I whispered into his ear: “The next time I try to tell you what’s going to happen in an election, I want you to turn me around and kick me, hard, in my fat ass.”
My most enduring memory of last night was of Shelli Yoder, after having delivered her tear-jerking concession speech, walking away from the podium and, first, hugging her husband tightly and for long minutes, and then falling into the arms of county party chair Mark Fraley. The two off them heaved and sobbed as children would. Yes, sure, they mourned their own perceived personal defeats, but I like to think they were crying for the nation as well.
Another enduring memory: The evening began in an atmosphere of hope and excitement. Then, sometime around nine o’clock, it was as though someone had flipped a switch. The room turned to a tomb.
I watched Todd Young deliver his valedictory without actually hearing his words. You heard it here first: Todd Young is in play for a strong White House run in 2020.
Keep in mind the real president of this holy land will be Mike Pence. The nominal incoming president will be gallivanting around the world play-acting as a king.
Mere days ago, pundits were speaking of the death of the Republican Party. Their only only mistake — they were preparing to embalm the wrong party.
Hillary Diane Rodham Clinton won the popular vote! That’s two presidential candidates I’ve voted for in the last 16 years who’ve won the vote but lost the election. Democracy, my ass.
I’m in no mood for any faux-brotherhood, kumbaya, let’s-all-work-together bullshit. These self-centered, skin-color obsessed, women-hating, mammon-idolizing apes cannot be worked with and, more to the point, I refuse to play nice with them. They crow to the heavens that they love America but the truth is they hate Americans. They hate me. And you. They must be resisted. They must be fought.