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He’s the one in the darker suit.

Why I’m Starting To Like Peter Buttigieg

Warning: This is not an endorsement

Trump’s presidency has provided some of the worst moments of my life, and looking back, Obama’s presidency gave me some of my best memories.

You never really consider how presidencies shape your outlook on life or response to what’s happening around you until the investment becomes personalized.

The Bush years weren’t that impactful, except when the tragedy of 9/11 renewed my love and utmost respect for the city of my dreams, and also showcased the touching diplomacy of Mayor Rudy Giuliani, which was obviously a short-lived performance.

The historic victory of Barack Obama was a national celebration that delivered all the ingredients that were brewing for the disastrous climate of 2016. We wanted to believe that such a thing could be replicated without hindrance or interference from White supremacists, who had tolerated enough of Blackness to last a lifetime.

How could we have even imagined that a slogan like “I’m With Her” coupled with the quite frankly, overly-laidback mechanisms of Hillary Clinton, would’ve stood a chance against the imposing machine of infectious disorder that rapidly evolved into a festival of entertaining fodder?

Donald Trump re-activated his Celebrity Apprentice persona to the 10th power, and seized the maniacal climate of social disarray to successfully push the boundaries way past what any of us could’ve predicted.

After the season of “grab them by the pussy” initiated his soaring popular to new heights, it was abundantly clear to those of us who were paying attention, that Hillary Clinton was absolutely not going to take ownership of being the first woman ever to be elected to the highest office of the land.

Supporters of Hillary were too far gone to accurately assess how much trouble was on the horizon, and most of it stemmed from the falsehood of “Yes We Can” and how that overtook appetites that were salivating for the repeat of what America can only muster when progression remains on course.

The Republican nomination of a New York gangster with too much money and not enough brain cells to validate his worth was the culmination of exacerbated symptoms, that saturated every cell of engagement with the promise of how “very bad guys” are way more delectable when they put on a really good show.

And now we’re back for round 2, and the reception to the upcoming battle for the White House that looks a lot Whiter than it did a decade ago, isn’t deviating from what we endured not too long ago.

Actually things have much gotten worse.

CNN recently burdened Anderson Cooper with the assignment of hosting evil strategist Steve Bannon, and it was nothing short of horrifying to watch the creature who makes Lord Voldemort look huggable — calmly and self-assuredly recite words of doom for anyone who refuses to court the vision of Trump’s reelection.

When Bannon flat out declares that “The year 2020 will be the most vitriolic year in American politics since before the civil war,” there really isn’t any doubt that he’s right on the money!

The White nationalist who’s on a mission to convert Europe into the basin of his warped philosophy, after doing a swell job with the #MAGA project, also weaponized Trump’s “exoneration” from the Russian collusion fiasco by strongly warning clueless folks hiding in caves, that his bullish mentee is prepared to “go full animal” on his enemies because he’s known to be “a fighter” who can get “aggressive.”

No shit!

Trump’s animalistic displays at his White supremacist rallies have gotten more “aggressive,” thanks to the increased confidence that was borne the moment he defeated Hillary Clinton, and frighteningly demonstrated how his deplorable qualities were in fact his best assets.

Trump and his team of deplorables have mastered the art of turning ugly shit into well-packaged narratives that appeal to the large portion of the country, that welcome the nationalized chaos, putting vulnerable lives at risk.

Suddenly being a proud bigot who openly follows the core requirements of Nazism, and exchanges letters of love and adoration with murderous dictators isn’t deemed as the worst thing in the world.

It also doesn’t help that we embody the flightiness of daily hysteria, that begins with trends that appear to be all-consuming until the evaporation happens, and almost immediately there’s a new scandal to quickly embrace that just might expose your talent for building the award-winning meme thread.

Nothing is serious anymore, and yet the jokes are not funny.

That’s why I cautiously checked out the youngest presidential candidate on the scene, Peter Buttigieg during an enlightening episode of The Breakfast Club, and it didn’t take long for me to be swept away by the specifics of the spirited discussion.

The seductive thing about this well-informed, very articulate and highly-intelligent guy who happens to be the mayor of South Bend, Indiana, is his refreshing transparency and how it allows the authenticity to naturally flourish.

Also, the mere fact that he was able to secure re-election, as an openly gay man, in a conservative state that belongs to Vice President Mike Pence, a cowardly homophobic, and someone that Buttigieg diligently sums up as “at best complicit” when it comes to the disturbing rise of hate crimes since the arrival of the Trump administration — is beyond remarkable and a testament to the stellar track record of an ambitious Millennial, who was evidently born at the right time.

So far, the competitive landscape of presidential hopefuls hasn’t matched the levels of euphoric bliss that captured the magnificence of the first ever Black president, first lady and first daughters, and that has mostly to do with the loss of those rose-colored glasses, and how adjusting to the reality of what never was is proving to be the hurdle that remains unchallenged.

Nobody is ready for truth because we simply can’t handle it.

That’s exactly why I’m starting to like Peter Buttigieg, and at this stage it’s nothing more than an innocent crush, but it does deliver the wonderment of where things could potentially go if those emotions organically mature.

And then there’s the noise of social media platforms, as armies gather with chosen leaders, and the danger of being “cancelled” for the crime of abandoning the noble quest of picking the more suitable woman who deserves the title especially when you consider race and gender — becomes the likely threat.

My greatest fear is being resurrected as I contemplate the weakness of the Democratic party as it pertains to anointed candidates who either sound a lot like seasoned professors dutifully presenting the syllabus for the semester or rehearsed performers who are struggling not to sound rehearsed.

Peter Buttigieg appears to be the contender who is unapologetically himself with the support of his hubby, and the firmly cohesive agenda that tackles all the pending items that desperately need efficient execution that targets the primal wounds of dysfunction.

And this isn’t by any means an endorsement, because I’m allowing myself the time to put in the hard work that it will take to filter out the ones that don’t meet basic standards. And I’m not paying attention to the static of loud-mouthed tweets that enhance the presence of preferred candidates, who represent whatever the trends are championing or disabling.

I just know that as it stands right now, Donald Trump’s polarizing reputation as the worst human being most of us have ever known, is ironically his most prized characteristic, and in order for him to disappear from our lives, we need an unexpected hero or heroine, who will reduce him to the size of his weirdly tiny hands.

Sometimes stepping out of comfort zones or disengaging from the activism of staying loyal to those who fit the role a little too perfectly can reveal your surprising tendency for something drastically foreign but embracingly promising.

That’s why I’m starting to dig Peter Buttigieg.

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