Day 1414 of 1456

Day 1414 of 1456

Good god, 42 days. That's all that's left. Then the term "trump's America" ceases to apply, either by trump's defeat in the elections, or the dissolution of America. I know in my life I've tried not to awfulize with my shitty imagination, and admittedly right now I do feel the old impulse to hope that maybe I'm overstating things, or being dramatic. To rein it in. But I think now I – and a lot of us – have the opposite problem. Have had it for a while: things are even worse than we've been thinking.

I know the natural tendency to de-escalate tragedy in your mind – I've been an on-stage actual comedian, that's half the job. Twain himself says that "against the assault of laughter, nothing can stand." So I know the verve with which we push on, sometimes it's the best trick we have. But that can also lead us to sheer unstoppable ignorance when things are going apocalyptically wrong. We have a tendency to sow and plow our fields in the sheer horrific rain of brimstone, expecting happy little flowers to sprout up tomorrow, someday. It's the closest thing to schizophrenia we get.

I admit there's not much else to say right here but to just jump to the fact that your tax dollars are currently paying to force-sterilize immigrant refugees, as if minority women were just boxes of Neapolitan ice cream on a conveyor belt leading towards a modern American Mengele with a rusty melon baller in one hand and a gleaming American flag waving the in other. Genocide has too many syllables. It doesn't shock as deeply for effect. This is Race-Rape. By God, if you won't let us put a white baby in your womb then you won't get one at all. Yeah, I admit that might be the phrase to describe it. New horrors require new words to help pin them down. That's the first lesson.

The only thing left right now that possibly crosses my mind is to try to express how far this all will reach. This is history book level shit. Going on right now. Hearing about it is automatic complicity. Think of it like the other side of the coin of that Catholic judgment ruling on innocent ignorance: If some aboriginal tribe in the middle of nowhere hasn't heard about the flowing bearded goofy-headed christ yet, and one of them happens to die before The Good Word reaches them, well it's not his fault he was born so geographically inaccessible, and he's just got to walk the Good Deed treadmill in afterlife limbo for a few millennia, and then he'll be headed right on up to the big house. But, if while on this plane of existence, he hears about The Big News and chooses to reject it, that's when the real afterlife trouble starts for him.

These blood soaked nightmare tragedies going on now are just like that. Every race of people, in every country on earth, every year of the future, every school building, and every planet & race of people after the inevitable exodus to the stars, will be reading forever & ever about the literal hell on Earth we've made with our own proud little grubby human hands and fingers dripped in viscera from unchecked surgical torture. They'll be reading about what we did when we found out. And that is where we will live, forever and ever. When the untold unimaginably numbered denizens of the future worlds stand mouths agape and weeping horrified at the dried bloody stuck together pages of history we've written, the only thing they'll be able to do – in lieu of killing themselves on the spot right there in the library – will be to hopefully somehow turn to the next page and try to find stories somewhere of someone who tried to stop it at the time. Just something to keep them going, reading about us, their past, in our future they're living in. It's not a question of whether we succeed or not – we're already here now, look around. On some certain measurements, we've obviously already failed. I wouldn't presume to redeem the present. That boat sailed on a sea of blood. The only imagery I have is to somehow redeem the time that will come after us.