A Vain Hope

 

A minor tributary of the Columbia

Politics this year is almost surreal in its presentation to the voters here in the land of the free.  I have spent almost 30 minutes in the last couple of days surreptitiously peeking in at the obscenity and I already feel the need to run away.

Picture this, it is summer of 1972 and while looking out my bedroom window to the West, there is a round cheesy sticker that I put up with the fatuous statement “watch out I vote” in a patriotic red, white, and blue motif.  It was the first election that allowed 18 year-olds to vote and I had gone in to register and received this gaudy little geegaw as a reward.

The reason that I am bringing this up is that 1972 was the same year and the same election that Joe Biden ran for and won a Senate seat. Joe went on to generate a series of hushed up little nuggets of sleaziness and probably kept a notebook of where all the bodies were buried.  The notebook is pretty thick after fifty years   

1972 was also the year that Trump’s father was embroiled in a legal case that focused on the last vestiges of blatant segregation and Trump was in the process of going down with him.  Daddy spent a lot of money setting Donald up and Donald did make a decent run with it. Being a real estate “tycoon” in NYC makes for a lot of moral ambiguity.

My point here is simply that these two men have got to go.  The Donald is just barely a boomer, Joe is a member of the silent.  

Look, I am seventy.  I think that I am in good shape mentally and physically.  But I am well away from my peak. I am also not alone in that.  These two narcissists who cannot let go are also well past their prime.  

They are living memories of an America that has passed.  It is time for both of them to go.