The Case for Pessimism
All of this optimism I keep hearing on the part of the left makes me want to puke. The right has gone completely apeshit crazy, endangering everything in the free world, including our very existence, and the left (which Rachel Maddow assures us has “found its voice”), keeps running around in pink pussy hats reassuring us that it will all be fine, in the great by and by.
Oh, really? I say bullshit. Is there a single indication that anything is going to work out fine? Because if there is, I can’t see it.
This present administration, led by the most ignorant (he can’t write), illiterate (he doesn’t read) moron to ever inhabit the White House, is barreling so headlong toward destruction, that I, in my pessimism (or realism), believe that they will, unhindered, achieve their goal. What’s presently going on is a such an incredible confluence of incompetent people, harmful ideas, and unmitigated arrogance, that a catastrophe (Trump stole the word disaster) simply must be forthcoming. And from the way it looks, I see no reason to think otherwise.
Suggesting, as Michael Moore has, in his own irrepressibly optimistic way, that the left needs to start all the way back at the beginning by running for local school board, township and village positions, implies, at least to my understanding, that we have years to straighten out thi shitstorm. That’s not optimism; that’s wishful thinking.
I believe unbridled optimism at this time engenders complacency—if it’s all going to be fine in the end, why try to change anything?—and that’s absolutely not what we need right now. If there’s at least a suspicion, a hint, a whiff, that it won’t turn out all right, that everything we know, our whole way of life, may very well be going down the toilet, then we had better start to change it right now. And fast.
America’s former worst president, George W. Bush, managed to destroy our entire economy (“everybody gets to buy a house with no money down”), and got us into a totally unnecessary war that cost the lives 5,500 American soldiers, at least 100,000 Iraqi civilians, that subsequently destabilized the Middle East, and allowed, or, more aptly, encouraged, the biggest Islamic terrorist group ever, ISIS, to come into existence. That’s what a bad, inept (i.e. Republican) president can do to the world. And it seems to me, less than a month into his presidency, that Trump is far worse than Bush, and infinitely more dangerous.
A president’s power is vast, and much more so when combined with control of Congress. That’s how a blatant, virile racist like Jeff Sessions has become the most powerful law enforcement official in the country; and a billionaire, know-nothing, who has never been to public school, Betsy DeVos, has become Secretary of Education, and truly evil hatemonger like Steve Bannon has become the president’s main advisor and is now on the National Security Council. Trump’s seemingly minor remarks—Tweets, actually—saying things like he will defend Japan against China regarding control of islands in the South China Sea may mean little to nothing to average, uneducated, U.S. citizen, who doesn’t even know where China, Japan or the South China Sea are located, but it means a lot to China. And pissing off China for the fun of it is a really crappy idea. China is one of the three major nuclear powers in the world, and they are a touchy people.
Trump’s preference for saving a few antiquated coal miner’s jobs in West Virginia at the expense of globalization and overseas trade is like trading marbles for diamonds. The billions of dollars that America has earned trading with Mexico doesn’t even compare with the paltry sum illegal Mexican immigrants make picking our fruit and vegetables that we won’t pick ourselves. Saving low-end service jobs is not worth losing high-end trade, nor does it make the slightest bit of sense barring foreign professors, scientists or engineers, who aid immeasurably in our education and high-tech productivity, from entering our country.
I repeat, there is nothing to be optimistic about at this time. We’re in a potentially cataclysmic shit-storm, and pessimism ought to be the rule of the day. And if our country fails, we’ll most likely take the whole world down with us.
America has 50,000 shootings a year—more than all other industrilaized countries combined—and this is not the fault of radical Islamic terrorists; it’s entirely the fault of our foolish gun laws, which will now, under Trump, only get worse.
Sadly, we are a nation of fearful fools, now ruled by complete idiots.
Tom, the fifty-five-year-old dipshit who lives across the street from me in his parents’ garage with an arsenal of weapons, who always dresses in camouflage hunting gear, who is so dedicated of a Trump supporter that he not only put several Trump signs in front of his parents’ house, but also in empty lots and in front of vacant houses, now walks around gloating because his guy is in charge. For entertainment Tom spends his evenings drinking beer, smoking bad weed, and watching a video hook-up in his deer blind (“Oh, look,” he gleefully pointed out to me the one night I mistakenly spent over there, “a deer is pissing then rolling in it”). Allan, our neighborhood’s other shit-for-brains Trump supporter, spends his free time sitting in an old Ford LTD parked on his lawn eating Doritos and drinking generic cola.
These are now the people in charge. So why would you believe for one second that they won’t fuck everything up? Of course they will. Accept it. And they’re doing it as fast as they can.
Positive thinking (or hoping or wishing or praying) won’t give us our country back; we have to take it back, now, not at some vague time in the potentially apocalyptic future.
There is a legal precedent for overturning fraudulent elections (which this was); there are measures to punish (nee impeach) a president who meddles with federal court orders (which he’s doing); there are rules against a president doing business with foreign governments (which he’s also doing); and you just have to bet that this asshole has committed felonious acts in the past. Now if some limp-dick investigative reporter will just stop hoping for the best and do his or her job, they might just find out.
We’re not helpless; and it’s possibly not even hopeless, but, for the time being anyway, we need to act it is or it will be too late.