So as it turns out, this Rube isn't really president. The fascist who runs him is.
I just got back from my Quaker Meeting. Don, my darling husband, too long late, said I should introduce myself as a Quaker-Buddhist-Jew: "That will really confuse them." But it doesn't confuse me. Quaker is what I am when I go very deep and quiet. Buddhist is what I am when I am around Jack, my teacher and friend and a really wise, touching, funny man. He is not doing very well with all of this either. I don't think anybody is doing well who can really feel.
And Jew is what you never really lose if you are born into it, as it will pursue you in places you didn't know had anti-Semitism.
What an incredible time. I feel Quakerly arms around me. Impelled to get up for a change, I had to go to Meeting this morning as I am so... what? Anxious is too easy a word. That anyone is paying real attention to this... again, what? Moron? Lout? Swine? The people who support him, in the little towns, are not evil. They just have no idea. No idea what he really thinks, if he thinks anything besides 'Me, Me, Me.'
I am not afraid so much as numbed by sorrow. Heartened by the soft but firm undercurrent of sadness at my Quaker Meeting, I am almost confident this will be well dealt with, except that I fear that Evil, which I don't mean to capitalize but have to, will find insidious ways to subvert and foil. There is such strength in Quakerly belief. The power of Silence. If only we could muffle him.
I do not hope for his assassination, as Pence is worse, and being smarter would be more effective, and deadlier. Oh, God, if you are there, and I really believe you are, especially in Meeting, Do SOMETHING. And let it be comic.
