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Post-Election Sadness

I'm sad today, because I was Never Trump, and I really believed in it. I still do. Things which never should have taken place are now normalized; winning makes for short memories. I want nothing to do with religious bigotry, ethnic stereotyping, draconian immigration policies, the mainstreaming of sexual violence, and so forth, and so on.

And the thing is, because the Left used the same words, told the same story--and on account of their arrogance and hypocrisy were utterly eviscerated--some people think we don't need to talk about these things, that they are fictions. Whether the people who hold this view are swept up in a populist fervor, or they are just sick of hearing it from what they regard as the usual suspects, I feel compelled to say that they are not fictions or lies.

I'm sad because this outrage of a campaign has been vindicated. I'm outraged that none of this scandal has been called to account, and won't be, by any human, as far as I can tell. It might be awhile before I settle down about it. I want to feel relief; I want to hope it won't be all bad. I want to think that contraceptive mandates and pro-abortion judges and religious persecution are now a dead letter. But come on, my friends: if I couldn't vote for the man in the face of all that, either I am completely irrational, or there is real doubt about what will happen. It's either true or false that Donald Trump is an erratic, lying, bigoted, incurious con-man. If true, 300-plus electoral votes doesn't make it false. If false...well, I do believe in miracles.

Don't expect me to be happy. Don't expect me to distrust everything I saw and heard. I'm wondering why no one feels the way I do. I'll readily grant the putative goodness of scads of Trump supporters, but I do not grant it to the man before me. Why would I? Why do you?

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