Happy President’s Day! Oh Wait! We Don’t Have a President…
Watching a nation toss and turn under the duress of another mass shooting while Donald Trump and his wife accommodate what appears to be a light-hearted photo op with hospital staff, first responders and law enforcement in Parkland, Florida is an indescribable feeling as a citizen of a leaderless country.
Trump has spent the last few hours — caught up in a storm of his own making as he unleashes an avalanche of tweets that are aimed at vindicating his assaulted spirit — as he contends with the realization of how easily he played into the hands of Russia — in such a seamless way that there’s nothing else to do but join our detractors and “laugh our asses off.”
Except there is nothing remotely funny about our present predicament.
As anguished students, families, friends and an obviously rattled community endure the arduous of burying the dead — Trump is more inclined to point fingers at the FBI for failing to apprehend the mentally-hampered nineteen-year-old who was able to purchase a high-powered weapon with no issue.
His words of comfort for the bereaved were far from comforting and his actions since his generically delivered statement prove beyond a doubt — that we are saddled with an overgrown toddler with the same mentality to match — and not only is the United States adrift with broken navigation — but there’s every indication that our lives our in imminent danger.
Trump’s Twitter account is constantly bombarded with never-ending insults that hold him accountable for his abominable behavior — but even this evidence of how very little patience most of us are able to summon at the audacity of his station — doesn’t provide the same amount of validation that the early days mustered.
These are desperate times and yes, desperate measures are required — but at whose expense?
The babies and teachers that were killed at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Connecticut — have been dead for almost six years — and at the time it was considered the most tragic event that any of us could possibly fathom. And yet, we survived the shame of knowing that such a thing could happen — on our watch — and with the approval of lawmakers who aren’t capable of rising to the occasion to ensure that another six-year-old doesn’t have say goodbye to his parents for the final time.
Back in 2012 — we had a president. He was far from perfect — but when tasked with the brutal assignment of responding to the horror of the moment — this is how he did it:
This is 2018 — and we don’t have a president.
We have someone who bullied his way into the highest office of the land. We have a White supremacist who has willfully used his power and might to normalize a national crisis like Charlottesville — while ensuring that his personal agenda continues to take centerstage. We have a loud-mouthed idiot — who has succeeded in fragmentizing a country into tiny bits that have become dust in the wind.
We’re circulating according to the instructions of an aimless administration that is guided by the punishment of what the future holds when historians will unabashedly devour those who serve the villain of the Oval Office — by relegating them to categories that will haunt them for a lifetime.
It’s an interesting disposition when you’re confronted with what it feels like to be a citizen of a nation — with nobody in the driver’s seat. On one hand — there’s the direness of it and how your fears dictate your world view by re-shaping presence of mind— and the other reaction is lodged in organic activism as the urgency to not only be involved — but to galvanize others who are also operating under trauma — becomes a greater force for retaliation.
Russia’s gamble paid off and that’s putting it mildly. It wasn’t that hard to zero in on a reckless buffoon who has no concept of anything that resembles law and order. His election win was prophetically staged with very little effort and Russia’s gain is America’s loss.
So, the only thing to do is to kill ourselves off, which is working brilliantly.
Trump’s heartless mission and habit of ignoring or downplaying the ultra-seriousness of the bullet points in his midst — that get thicker and more crowded by the hour is the ongoing tragic tale of how a former super power and the world’s Messiah — rapidly declined into the pit of hell with a raging fire that is spreading with furious rage and tempestuous freedom.
We don’t have a president, and we can’t expect that to change anytime soon.
The blood shed from the bullet wounds of those of us that have been sold for the almighty dollar — will continue to soil the earth that once played host to the victims of long ago — who were gutted for their land — and the chained bodies that were flogged into toiling the stolen land — that has now been reduced to potholes of unconsciousness.
We are not alive. We are dying. We are dead. We are Americans.
And we have no president.