“Instead of a government, we had a stage. Instead of ideas a prima donna’s rage.”
Oh What a Circus - Evita - Lyrics by Tim Rice
As I reflect on the last four years of Trump’s America and the culmination of it when thugs, white domestic terrorists stormed our Capitol, I find myself feeling like a parent who knows the drug dealer that sold the final overdose to their child. Why? Because this did not happen on its own, there was a powerful political engine behind it filled with politicians, many who are lawyers and those that know the law (along with its loopholes) and knew they would never be able to be prosecuted for inciting this insurrection they’ve been waging against our democracy.
Is the kid who stuck the needle in his arm that last time responsible? Of course. But what about the doctor that prescribed the highly addictive narcotic (that the drug company said wasn’t that addictive) that led that child down the path of addiction once the prescription was up, and whose body craved something that eventually led to heroin? Does the doctor have responsibility? Does the drug dealer? Does the parent? In a court of law, it’s the child that bears all the responsibility, not any of the others, in most cases. So, unfortunately, is what we witnessed yesterday. Federal crimes committed but as they’re white with guns, we won’t see charges. They’ll post the pictures of themselves sitting at the Speaker’s desk rummaging through confidential paperwork and the white polite society will turn their heads the other way or worse, try to justify their actions, knowing full well that if these had been people of color they would have been destroyed on the spot. We see it all the time. For reference, see the pictures of when Black Lives Matter held a peaceful protest, the military lined up on the stairs of the Capitol and then see the pictures of yesterday when a woefully understaffed local police were powerless to keep the “law and order” this president pretended to represent.
And moreover, while we are sorting out our own feelings from the video and pictures we saw of the scene of terrorists storming the Capitol, I’m thinking of the mob that did the real damage, the mob inside the Capitol. You see, Congress was doing what the terrorists were doing outside, only with suits on. It has been proven time and time again that the election was fair and that Trump lost yet his sycophants continue to enable him (not unlike the drug dealer, both for their own gain) and therefore we all experienced an overdose yesterday. These learned women and men, who know the law, knew the election was fair and decided to make a concerted effort to deceive the public for their own gain as they lay prostrate to the God they worship. To be clear, the God they worship isn’t Trump, it’s his power they seek. They want to command the mighty army of the disenfranchised and gullible who will send $300 of the $600 they got from the government to survive to a politician who makes promises that can never be kept as opposed to feeding their family. There is a mighty army of American civilians who are experiencing Stockholm syndrome, they’ve fallen in love with their captor, and they aren’t all shirtless, Confederate flag totting individuals, they’re politicians who crave attention, money and fame. What’s worse, they’re getting all of the above on the backs of their supporters who simply don’t know any better.
Political predators have always existed. If they can scare you and convince you that everyone who doesn’t look like you is out to get you and the politician is your only savior, then they’ve won. And they’ve won a lot throughout the centuries. And no administration coming in or going out is going to fix this on their own, mainly because it’s to their benefit to NOT fix it. So, like that child placing the overdose in their arm, we all need to be responsible for our own destiny. We can’t look to politicians, athletes or anyone else, we must look to ourselves, heal ourselves, hold our heads up and move forward. I wish we could all go into mental health rehab. But this time, we may need to just stop cold turkey, feel the withdrawal symptoms and hope for less cravings and pain and more healing when we wake tomorrow.
“So what happens now? So, what happens now? Don’t ask anymore.”
Another Suitcase, Another Hall - Evita - Lyrics by Tim Rice