Getting Rid of That Smell

So it has come to this, a second impeachment prompted by an attack on the capitol by his loyal, foolish and complicit followers. What a scent they have left in their wake, a scent of something dead, or certainly dying, and waiting to be removed.

That would be President Trump, and that would be the key reason for all those loyal, block headed Senators to shift their thinking a little bit and drag this rotting pile of flesh from the public’s back yard. Can’t you just smell the man? That’s right, you can, and it’s awful.

I have found dead and dying things in my yard before. We live in a suburb, but it’s not an idyllic place of perfectly clipped lawns and lovely houses. It is a real place, where real people struggle every day with the challenges that life presents. There are black rat poison boxes in the alley and people have high fences if they are in challenging neighborhoods.

But I don’t know of anyone around here who would tolerate a pile of festering detritus in the center of their back yard. Sooner or later, winter will flee and what is thawing will resume its rotting. It just has to be removed or the stink of its will spread, riding on the air like a bad thought.

So let it be with the president of the United States. I know all of this sounds unduly harsh and certainly the man has been quite well humiliated in the past few days, but not enough. The capitol of the United States is in my back yard (figuratively speaking) and I am not happy about the mess President Trump has created there.

I don’t like him now and I never have. Frankly, the level of support for him mystifies me save for one truth uttered a couple of years back by Hillary Clinton. “Deplorables.” That was unkind and foolish on her part because they had not yet earned the title. Now they have. My sympathy for any of them and the life struggles that created their political consciences has evaporated, as gone as tear gas on the wind.

See what you have done? Aren’t you ashamed? Probably not yet. But that will come. I did some work on an investigation of the Ku Klux Klan a long time ago and what I noted right away is that when they were not stomping around in their robes, they seemed kind of meek. Almost quiet, unless you knew the kinds of things they had done. It’s why they so needed their hoods, because their sins, publicly exposed, could not be forgiven.

I suspect there are Trump loyalists who have snapped dozens of selfies marking the spot where the guy tossed the fire extinguishers at the cops or the single pistol seemed to stick right out of the wall and kill an intruder trying to get into the speakers’ office. Were it up to them, there would be plaques and tributes, just like at Gettysburg, noting where this character delivered this abomination or pulled that trick or did this damage. They think that what they did was patriotic.

I don’t agree. I’m as great a patriot as any patriot I have ever met, and I have never wanted to kill a capitol policeman or wreck windows and furniture and send panic into the hearts of lawmakers. That’s what they did. As surely as we watched it all on television, where a real version of truth exists underneath all the bullshit people stack on top of it so you can’t tell.

Down there is where fascism actually resides.

We need to get this rotting carcass out of our yard before it does more damage.

Vote to impeach!

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