I’m Jewish, and therefore, in the eyes of many registered Republicans, either vermin to be exterminated, or a blood sacrifice to bring back Jesus.
And, no, I am not engaging in hyperbole. I have been told, to my face, by a bright-eyed Baptist missionary, that it is my God-Given Duty to Return To The Land Of Israel (I’ve never been there) so that, when the Children Of Israel are Gathered (you could hear the Capital Letters), we could perish and Usher In The Second Coming Of Jesus Christ. And he was jealous, because I’d be at Jesus’s side to escort him down from heaven, and he wouldn’t. Needless to say, I backed away slowly and carefully. But it was distinctly creepy to meet someone whose worldview insisted that my sole purpose in life is to die to bring about the return of his zombie god. So I watch the Evangelical takeover of the Republican Party and shiver in fear, because I know what my life means to them.
And that’s not counting the myriad Trumpian supporters who want to load me and everyone I’m related into gas chambers, ovens, and mass graves.
