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A Shadow in the Darkness

May 30, 2018

I just want to say at this moment in the plot line that I’m aware that the narrative has offered barely a mention of a character who has been active with extraordinarily destructive power. He’s an Ideology Warrior, in battle against democracy, whose ideological ferocity blinds him to humanity, with self-righteous pride in his achievements in subverting democracy and serving the Despicables of Wealth.

Of course, it’s Mitch McConnell.  Republican Senate Majority Leader.  Like Sessions, an antebellum Southern aristocrat.

I’ve been negligent, but I’ll get to him.

6-27-18  Here’s Hunter (DKos) shining a light.

6-29-18  This morning I saw another photo of the grossly self-satisfied, grinning Mitch McConnell, contemplating the Supreme Court.  It’s unfair, but he doeslook like a turtle.  It’s not his fault, so I don’t count it against him.  But this time it reminded me of an experience when I was a kid.

As I’ve mentioned on other pages (here’s one), my family lived in a local stretch of countryside, with woods and a creek.  Early one summer my grandfather brought a large, metal, horse trough (that’s for watering farm stock, but we didn’t have any.  Probably eight feet long. We didn’t have farm stock; but we put in a couple feet of water, and soon added small fish that we got from the creek, and a couple of frogs.  We made sure they had worms and other insects to eat, and we added fresh water regularly, which stayed clear enough that we could watch how the fish lived. We had quite a few, and they would have been a delight until cold weather, when we would return them to the creek.

But an uncle acquired a large snapping turtle from a nearby swamp, that he wanted to raise as a pet. So he added it to the trough. Basically, we had nothing against snapping turtles, any more than against other creatures, although we kids knew not to get our fingers close to the front end of that turtle.

You guessed it. By the end of August the turtle had thrived but there were no fish.  What’s more, the water became so putrid that we couldn’t even see the turtle. We were smart enough to stop sacrificing fish.  We lost interest. My uncle lost interest.  The turtle itself died and rotted.  My dad and grandfather emptied the trough.

That trough, on the days before they emptied it, opaque and stinking as if water itself could rot, reminds me of what America can become, under Republican, plutocratic, authoritarian, single-party rule.

My grandfather’s and father’s straining to dump the water reminds me of getting out the anti-fascist vote.

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