Weekend of death
Because I truly do love you all, I wish I had the words to comfort you. But I don’t have the words to even comfort myself.
We’re in as dark a place as any of us could have imagined being after November 2016. He, and I won’t even dignify him by using his name, has unleashed all the hatred and bile which has always been part of this American experiment. He has done it gleefully, because he has no soul. He has done it without concern, because his only concern is for himself. He doesn’t care how many innocents are slaughtered, because for him there are no innocents. Everyone is guilty.
The guns are out, and they won’t be put away until more blood is spilled.
People who had the catbird’s seat, and then had it pulled out from under them, are blaming the wrong people for their predicaments, and slaughtering them, because it’s easier than to realize that they’ve been lied to and used, and they’ve willingly gone along out of fear and hatred and racism.
Unless we unify, unless the vast majority stamps out the hatred, this will end in fire. The terror campaign has started. How soon until it escalates?
And we have someone in the White House who will, rather than serve to preserve the Republic, will side with its hangmen. For he himself is the chief hangman.
Today I have nothing else. Words are silent today.
Grieve, for this is worthy of the greatest grief.
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