I will naturally vote for and speak admiringly of Bernie Sanders whenever I’m able to muster enthusiasm (which may be infrequently), but only the willfully blind believe he has any kind of realistic shot against The Beast.
No exaggeration, dead serious — this is one of the DARKEST TRAGEDIES to ever befall this once-great nation. I’m gut-struck, destroyed. Why can’t I find a heroin dealer when I really need one? Or at least somebody with a few Percocets to spare.
A rancid, ill-informed, foam-at-the-mouth animal — easily the most toxic, dangerous, sociopathic, press-hating, would-be totalitarian to occupy the Oval Office in our nation’s history — is going to be re-elected on 11.3.20. And the second-term anguish will be even worse. Fuhgedaboudit.
The environment weeps. People who long for a semblance of pragmatic sanity and practical compassion in government weep. Downballot Democrats are doing more than weeping — they’re panicking. My heart is shattered, broken.
And the Bernie faithful, God help us and for the noblest and most aspirational of reasons, are the orchestrators — the agents of this coming horror, this ruination, this destruction. Damn, damn.