Note: this column was drafted before the last 24 hours, and under the assumption that there’s not much chance that Trump’s appeals can prevail and give him an electoral college victory. That assumption seems a little shakier this morning. Accordingly, all of the thoughts that follow are therefore tentative, and as long as there’s any chance of electoral college victory, we should fight until that chance is gone!
I need to talk to some Germans, and find out if there is a word for the opposite of schadenfreude – i.e. misery at witnessing the joy of creepy morons celebrating an misbegotten victory. If there is such a word, I need to know it immediately, because I’ve got a third-degree case of it.
If there is no such word, my German friends need to step it the friend up. Because if they’ve come up with schildkrote (“shield-toad,” i.e. turtle) and a word that means, “you’re not wrong, but you’re still an a-hole,” they should certainly have a word to describe the combination of heartsickness, nausea and intestinal distress that is the only rational reaction to watching the national Dems being happy.
We’re still a great country, and we will be able to withstand the motley crew of malicious ignorami (Latin plurals – they still comfort me!) who can’t wait to storm into office in January. Especially if we can hold onto the senate, we can blunt most of the worst damage they are dying to do. After that, we’ll need to do everything we can to be the loyal opposition, and fight them over every bad move they make.
And work with them if they ever accidentally propose something that is actually good. I’m not holding my breath on that front, but we’re cautious optimists, right?
Also, it’s good to remind ourselves that there are many good liberal Americans out there: folks who (though they are wrong about politics, IMHO) love this country, and aren’t comfortable with blatant fraud and lawlessness. (I hope that they’ll be much more vocal about that in the coming days and months!)
We don’t want to inadvertently throw those metaphorical babies out with the sewer water.
Er, bath water. (So sue me: I think of Schiff and the squad and CAW CAW and Schumer, and my mind invariably goes to waste disposal.)
Trigger warning: I’m about to wax philosophical, and for me, that involves some God talk. For those of you who don’t care for that type of thing, no problemo. Feel free to skip down to the end of the column, where you’ll find some secular consolations (I hope!).
One of my short suits has always been the “turn the other cheek” part of my faith. I tend to get angry at bad behavior — and bully, lying and cheating are three of the varieties of said behavior that enrage me the most. So you can imagine the way I’ve been stomping around and cursing the national Dems and their perfidious schemes this last week.
You can believe me when I say that this does not come naturally to me, but I’m working through ways to appeal to the better angels of my nature, and of yours too.
I understand the temptation to throw off the bonds of civil and moral behavior, and sink to Leftist hacks’ level. If they have so obviously cheated and lied and stuffed ballot boxes and all the rest, I can almost get to the point of arguing that we should do the same. The ghost of Machiavelli – whom I teach on a regular basis, and who always strikes me as simultaneously brilliantly correct and repugnant! – whispers to me that taking the high road while our opponents cheat will ruin us.
But then I go back to my moral lodestone, Uncle Jesus, who looks at me with love while also boxing my ears. (My image of Him is a little eccentric, I’ll admit.) And He says, “What will it profit a man if he gains the White House and both houses of congress, yet forfeits his soul?”
And because I’m only as He made me, I immediately think of saying something sarcastic like, “Well, one profit would be that the green new deal won’t destroy our economy, and we might not be at the mercy of an incompetent socialist cabal of ex-bartenders, ancient Egyptian mummies who won’t die, and arschaffen as far as the eye can see…” But He gives me a look that suggests that another ear-boxing is on the way if I don’t zip it.
And then He says, “Verily, thou art hilarious – and just between us, one of My personal favorites — but I’ve got this. Their victories are fleeting, and I’ve laid before them metaphorical acres of rakes, so behold as they go forth and stomp on one after another of them. Rejoice in the spectacle of their self-delivered karmic head-thwackings.”
“Also, remember that testing makes you stronger. If the Jews could survive the pharaohs, and Samson could survive Delilah, and Bears fans could survive the McCaskey family, surely you can survive a few years of moronic governance.”
And before I can say, “Technically, Samson didn’t actually survive—” He says, “Yeah, yeah. I was just checking to see if you were paying attention. And by the way, what’s that thing you say about Elizabeth Warren?”
“#wemustneverstopmockingher’?” I say.
And He says, “That’s it! We all love that. Crazy Horse and Sitting Bull are up here – the theology of that is a little tricky, but I’ll explain it when you get here – and they could not stop face palming when she came out with that DNA test.”
“I knew it!” I say. “But she’s supposed to be made in Your image too, right?”
“Oy, don’t ask. That’s another one that you’ll have to be here before you understand. Anyway, I’ve got to get going. I’ve got some birds of the air and beasts of the field to watch over, and I’ve also got to reassure the Israelis that I’m not going to let Biden bumble them back into another intifada. Plus, tonight Tom Petty and John Prine are putting on a concert, and for the first time, Eddie Van Halen will join them on guitar.”
“Also, your dad says hello, and that he knows what happened in the election, but he can’t bring himself to care about it, because he’s together with the rest of the family, buoyed by the joy that passeth understanding, and looking forward to seeing you again.
Also, he doesn’t want to give things away, but Foles is not a long-term answer at quarterback for the Bears. Which is more consequential than Joe Biden, but still, not so much.”
Okay, so I’m no theologian. But I think I’ve got the details pretty close.
I realize that this column may have been rough sledding for those of you of a different faith or no faith. But I meant what I said before the election: there is more to life than politics, and becoming as degraded as they are will not help the country, and it will do great moral damage to ourselves.
So let me leave the agnostic or atheist among the CO nation with different words of encouragement.
If you appreciate Nature – but are not sold on Nature’s God – consider again our wide world beyond politics.
Uncle Jesus may say (through Paul, IMO), “Whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, whatever things are just, whatever things are pure, whatever things are lovely, whatever things are of good report, if there is any virtue and if there is anything praiseworthy—think on these things.”
To paraphrase the Big Man, “Whatever things are true, whatever things are noble, and whatever things can help you get your mind off of the MSM, Hollywood and the Left, think on those things.”
Turn off the tv, avoid news of politics for a while, and think of whatever comes to mind when you think of Nature’s greatest gift to you. (For me, that was meeting a piping hot 21-year old Norwegian-American girl, and pulling off the most miraculous four-bank carom shot in world history by tricking her into falling in love and marrying me, lo these many years ago. But your mileage may vary.)
Take a walk in the early morning, or at sunset. Closely watch a housecat playing or resting: does he trouble himself with Joey Gaffes’ incipient mental deterioration, or the outlook for the economy in 2021? He does not. (For the cynical among you, okay: he probably wouldn’t trouble himself if you had a massive heart attack and keeled over right in front of him, either. But still. He’s not a dog, so don’t hold him to dog-level standards.)
Go through a vigorous workout, and then lay on your back on a sunny patch of grass, and feel the tingling in your muscles and the breath in your chest, and look at the sky.
If you have a few bucks and can spare some time, take a trip to the mountains, or walk in some snowy woods. Think of a thoughtful gift for a loved one before secularist-defaced Christmas makes it mandatory. Write a thankful letter to different people in your life – I can guarantee that they haven’t received one of those in ages, because no one writes letters anymore, since John and Abigail Adams died.
If you’re still feeling down after all that, I’ve only got one other idea for you: Go to Martinsimpsonwriting.com, where you’ll find a new picture of Cassie the Wonder Dog, sitting and smiling at you. Look at those beautiful brown and blue eyes, and that adorably cocked right ear and happy smile, and tell me you don’t feel better.