Just let Trump go.
Our Trump addiction is killing us.
When was the last time you enjoyed America? We are the land of rock and roll, jazz, blue jeans, cool convertibles, beach parties, tail gates, barbecue, Mickey Mouse and Looney Tunes.
These days? We’re the land of angry people yelling. Trump yelling. Trump administration people yelling. Lindsay Graham yelling. Fox Heads yelling. Proud Boys yelling. Bret Kavanaugh yelling. Mitch McConnell doesn’t yell. He chortles. Which is worse.
We gathered together and moved Heaven and Earth to show the yellers the door. We had one good day.
I live in Manhattan. It was an amazing day. People dancing. People cruising the streets with heavy beats. It was unbridled joy. And then the yelling started again.
I’m not sure what the idea is here. We’re yelled into obedience? Like a hairy guy in a wife-beater shoving his red-face in our face is going to bully us into submission so we do what we’re told?
Yeah, America is no longer fun.
I don’t see fun ahead. I see more yelling. I’m wiping spittle from my face. I retreat to cities, pull up the bridges, flood the tunnels. The Great American Road Trip reached a dead end. I’m not going hiking in Yellingstone National Park.
Any therapist will tell you don’t enable the dysfunction. I learned the lesson the hard way. Survival is walk away. Cut the yeller out of your life. There’s no possibility of love.
If you find yourself trapped by these yelling people walk. Fast. Don’t look back. Don’t answer. Remove yourself. You being yelled at is the whole point. They’ll never change. They’ll hate you more. They’re addicted to their hate. It rushes through their bloodstream like good junk. A hater’s high.
Yelling at you fogs the mirrors inside their head. No need to look at their life when they’re yelling about yours.
So, America. Our only shot is to ignore the dark, pulsing mass at our door. I took a quick run into the social media platform Parler. Don’t. It’s wall to wall hate, lies, anger, whining. It’s 100% dedicated to making sure nobody ever has fun again. It’s the mob of ghouls gathered in front of the guillitine.
Eventually, when there’s nobody to yell at they’ll turn on each other and eat each other. Things will settle down. Maybe somebody will pick up a guitar. Maybe we all join in the chorus.
We need to nationally walk away from the hate.
I did in my life. It was the hardest thing I ever did. It destroyed my life. But I’d be dead by now if I hadn’t done it. The road to survival is to remove the target. You. Don’t engage. Don’t toss a match. Let the fire burn. Let the ashes smolder. Then we can watch a sprig of green appear. New life.