I think it’s inevitable that you don’t get truth-tellers. I want the American people to stop believing everything they hear and to ask more questions, to become more skeptical. I think it’s the one reason a guy like Donald Trump ran. They understood where he was coming from. That Trump is just a blowhard. They laughed at him. They knew Trump doesn’t know what he’s talking about. But Trump wasn’t the same old big smile and a lot of good words. The Democrats have been going around saying, “We’re for the people, we’re for the little guy.” And all they do is run to Wall Street for money. And the one guy that didn’t, Sanders, was sabotaged by the Democratic National Committee.
The people in those letters to The Guardian are way too calm and reasoned. Of course, the letters are from last year, before the crazy got exponentially worse. Me, I’m frightened, for myself and the inheritors of this shit show.
I hear you. I really do.
That’s been the starkly ugly but obvious trend in the U.S. for years now.
I had been hoping somehow that England–nay Britain–would have managed to find a way to not have BoJo&Co win, politically, this week. My heart sank as BoJo swept into office, sacked much of the previous crew only to install his own awful henchmen/women.
… reminded me so much of That Horrid Horrid Occupant in the White House, having swept in not by U.S. popular vote–in fact opposite the popular vote on January 20, 2017.
People complain these days of the overuse of the word “triggered” but honestly that’s how I felt, watching it all transpire again on your side of the pond.
Maybe it was good I skipped watching that colossal ass Bolsonaro take over Brazilian government.
And damn if it isn’t all before you, ye poor bastards…
… but hey man, at least you’ve got Billy Bragg, Brian May, Brian Cox, and Emma Thompson. You have some really excellent allies working the problem(s) with you. And there is work to be done.
May you and yours find the strength and heart to do it. In between, let there be good food, good friends, some reason to celebrate, however small.
Midnight Train
by Joe Ely
That midnight train is a long and a slow one The Timetable’s set, - the brakeman is tired Your seat is reserved with exceptions for no one No luggage allowed no ticket required. It will be there right on time at the station Even if midnight must come at high noon. You will not know that train’s destination And you’ll not leave late nor one minute too soon.
You may sit beside Fear and go worse than lonely Or travel with Trust with love and faith restored These choices you have and these choices only When that train rolls in, and you step aboard. Now that whistle blows, yes it’s already whining If you listen close you can hear it soft and clear And that headlight burns, yes its already shinin’ And you might as well choose right now, it’s love or fear.
