A bad taste by Sue Robin

“My personal view is that the president touched the hot stove on Wednesday and is unlikely to touch it again.” This is what the other Republican senator from Missouri (not the fist-bump to the insurrectionists one), Roy Blunt, said on Face the Nation this morning. Sound familiar? What horrifies and frightens me is the number of Republicans, in and our of elected office, who have left their hands on the hot stove. As Susan Glasser said later in the day on CNN, “We’re still in this crisis.”

Trump Rallies Were a Preview of the Capitol Attack—The Atlantic

Lawmakers Exposed to Covid-19 During Capitol Attack, Physician Says—Bloomberg

Hospitals say syringes supplied by feds waste vaccine doses—Politico

January 10, 2021

A bad taste
by Sue Robin, Los Angeles, California

In my last post for this blog, I wrote about making pumpkin soup to soothe my soul. The soup was a disappointment. It did not taste right and though I tried to doctor it, it was not edible. That is a metaphor for how I feel about our country today.

The pundits and newscasters continue to refer to the insurrection as a mob of Trump supporters and, while both those descriptors are true, it does not capture the full picture. I would like to hear them add a mob of Nazis and white supremacists.  To see a person with a shirt emblazoned with the slogan “Camp Auschwitz” and a huge Confederate flag strutting through the hallowed halls of our government made me nauseous, and I could not hold back the sobs.

For Trump to win, he needed more than just the Republican base. His words became a rallying cry for Nazis and racists, and he and the Republican Party welcomed them. Whatever conservative values they might have had have been usurped by the desire for power at any cost. One cannot claim the moral high ground when one’s platform is built on hate and violence, and lacks any semblance of respect for humanity, let alone our Constitution.

I do not know where I went wrong with the pumpkin soup, but I sure as hell know where the Republican Party went wrong. By choosing to embrace Trump and his minions—The Proud Boys, The Three Percenters, the White nationalists, the anti-Semites, the anti-immigrants and the other hate mongers—they have destroyed their party and made a mockery of family values, their basic principles and love of country. Time and time again, they had an opportunity to call Trump on his lies and outlandish comments, to stand up for right action against violence and hate and each time, they turned their backs and buried their heads in the sand. Each of these transgressions has emboldened the haters and left this nation distraught, in tears and with a terrible taste in its mouth.

I wrote this poem on November 21, 2019. It grieves me that it is just as fitting today.

Will Justice Prevail?

In bed at 10, sleep mask, earplugs, “Breathe Right,” all in place
Curled up on my right side and waited for Hypnos to arrive
And watched as my mind went from
What to wear tomorrow?
To the impeachment
What to pack for a trip four months from now?
To the impeachment
Maybe I should get up early and prepare meatloaf?
To the impeachment.

At eleven, I take two Tylenol and a CBD pill
I slip between the covers once again
Left side, right side, on my back
I make a shopping list for dinner on Sunday
And still, I lie awake

I do four calming breaths, meditate for a few moments,
Only a few because these racing thoughts keep coming
Gently hold the relaxation points for acupressure while
Snippets of the impeachment hearing echo in my head

Finally, sometime a bit after one AM
I drop off to dreamland
Awake by seven and the damned
Litany is right there waiting for me.
Will justice prevail? Will I ever sleep through the night?