The Enemy of My Enemy

Our so called President tweeted that the New York Times is the true “ENEMY OF THE PEOPLE!”

So it begs the question. Who exactly are “the people” Trump refers to. A quick scan of his timeline and it’s clear his people does not include socialists, radical democrats, chuck and Nancy, independent minded republicans, Hispanics, blacks, immigrants, LBGTQ+, people from California, Jeff Flake, members of the intelligence community, people from Puerto Rico, women…

In fact, Donald Trump does not represent or speak for the overwhelming majority of this nation’s citizens. The truth is most patriotic Americans find Donald Trump, not a free press, to be the “enemy of WE, the people.”

Safe to say the enemy of my enemy is my friend. In fact a look at a few of the current stories trending in the Times and you’ll see several involve “the people” who stand with Trump and support him in both words and actions.

My personal favorite is the one about the Coast Guard lieutenant and self-described white nationalist who was arrested in Maryland last week. He was plotting to kill a long list of liberal journalists and political leaders on a scale “rarely see in this country.”

Oddly enough these are “the people” Trump refers to. The ones who often speak in his defense yet never appear on his Twitter timeline. No insinuations or childish nicknames for the racists, bigots and trolls who act in his name.

That’s no accident. It’s one thing for a talented manipulator to get into power. It’s a whole other thing to stay there. Trump knows the only way for that to happen is to reach back to his core base. To empower the fringe 20% of the far 20%. Turns out “the people” are who Hillary defined as the true “deplorables” of society.

You know “the people” who respond to Trump’s call of a national emergency and react to his dog whistles. KKK members, drunks, abusers, people who proudly fly the Confederate flag and hang rubber testicles off their tow hitch. Victims of society looking for someone to blame for whatever insecurities they harbor within.

Trump appeals to and speaks for those made in his image. Those in search of some reason, other their own inadequacy, to explain their sorry lot in life. The New York Times and a free press threaten the cognitive dissonance necessary to exert control of “the people.” It prevents the authoritarian from declaring the loudest voice in the room, is the only voice in the room.

Trump’s efforts to silence and discredit the press pose a clear and present danger to the foundation of our democracy. Without a credible counter narrative to contend with this caravan of corrupt criminals will be free to project their own shortcomings onto the most vulnerable members of our society. They will use sound bites, click bait propaganda and alternative facts to deflect from whatever scandal plagues them and otherwise fear monger, scapegoat and blame shift at whatever the cost.

The truth is Trump seeks to control the people. The tighter the noose around his neck the more desperate he grows to scream out to them. To embolden them to act; draw the swastikas, burn the mosques, shoot the churches and claim our federal lands and parks as their own. To terrorize and deride the press and the Radical Democrats. To silence the opposition through force and accept the narrative offered.

These are the proud boys who the real national emergency, Donald Trump, grows ever more dependent on. To chill the fight of moderates with fear tactics, threats and intimidation. Without them the whole ship sinks, the stool gets kicked out from under him

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The 3-D Painting

When I was a kid 3-D computer generated pictures were quite the fad. The ones you would stare cross eyed at for hours on end. Bits and pieces of the big picture coming in and out of focus. Your frustration builds with the knowledge that something epic awaits if you could only get your eyes to focus the right away. Then when you’re about to give up and your eyes start tearing up from exhaustion; voila! It all comes into focus.

It was almost always some type of exhilarating scene. A dinosaur chase that featured a T-Rex reaching out to grab you in the foreground. A school of dolphins seemingly leaping out of the pixelated water and into your living room. The payoff always worth the effort.

As I try process the actions of Donald Trump and this den of corruption I feel like I’m back in high school staring at one of those pictures. I concentrate on all that’s been done these past few years and bits of the real picture, the hidden agenda, slowly comes into focus.

Look to the right. A bunch of middle aged smirking white men seem to be looking away from the rest of the picture. They shake hands and pat each other’s backs in a sense of accomplishment. A few appear to have their heads buried in the sand and others have their arms raised upright in a rapturous pose.

Behind them you can make out the dreams of the GOP establishment. Billboards line a pot holed highway. One advertises the end of entitlements and social welfare programs. “Say goodbye to your healthcare, food stamps, social security, and public benefits but hello to your temporary $200 tax cut,” it reads. Through a thick smog you make out the words of the next sign, “Regulations! We don’t need no stinkin regulations!” it says. “Koch Brother’s Toll booth ahead – $40” reads the last.”

Is that Jesus moving into the forefront? A tear falling from his eye as he poses triumphantly on his Jerusalem throne. His foot resting on the throats of Muslims, Hindus, and a host of other non-believers as he takes in his heavenly kingdom.

Now close your right eye. Off to the left! Is that a shirtless Russian man riding on a horse? Standing in his shadow a seemingly endless line of workers doing hard labor. Rolling oil barrels directly into the Kremlin. Working with heavy machinery a pile of weapons of mass destruction amassed in the forefront. Ordinary looking people laying steel pipeline and rail. A massive red army on the march westward.

Open both eyes again and all you see is buckets of money falling from the sky like rain. Gold, silver and jewels piling up on the ground. International currencies from around the globe floating into focus. Shekls, rubles, dollars, euros, pounds, yens, even whatever they use in China all accounted for.

The middle part of the picture is the hardest to make out. Your eyes consistently distracted by the cheetoh orange swirls at the center of it all. The details that do emerge so horrible one must look away in horror from time to time. Military choppers fly through the sky. Major US cities lined with national guard as skyscrapers burn. Armed sentries sit in surveillance towers standing watch over the whole of America. Our borders encased in a wall of barb wire and chain linked fence give off the appearance of a giant prison yard.

Other random visions appear so quickly you are barely able to make sense of them. Is that a throng of young protestors with their hands cuffed behind their backs? Many appear bloodied, their placards and signs of dissent scattered and trampled in the streets. Others look defeated. A single marijuana joint hangs from their lips as they are loaded into a paddy wagon. A line of police cars queues up outside the overflowing prison.

Large ships packed stern to stern with disheveled and scared looking minorities and immigrants. Men in hoodies. Women in hijabs. The Statue of Liberty a small dot in the distant horizon as the boats move further away from America’s shores. A real national emergency unfolding

You look away blinking back tears. Your concentration broken. What the hell does it mean? These disjointed images that flood your brain. You realize you have a choice. Start anew and try to make sense of it all. Recross those eyes and keep staring until the entirety of the big picture reveals itself, or walk away. Grow apathetic with the hope that someone else comes along who is able to see it for themselves. An independent arbiter so to speak who may or may not tell you what it is that’s really there.

For me the choice is clear. There is no option but to refocus and keep looking until it all makes sense. The entire picture emerges. I’ve invested too much to choose otherwise and walk away now. No, much like I did in high school I’ll keep searching for that final payoff.

There’s another funny thing about those pictures that motivates me to keep me looking. Sure you initially spend hours staring and talking about them, but once you figure them out and you “see it,” you quickly lose interest in them. Pretty soon after that they get taken off the walls. Relegated to the far reaches of the garage or attic, frame cracked, forgotten.