’Mala, You In Danger, Girl
Last week, I found myself creatively paralyzed for the better part of a day. I’d experienced writer’s block before, but nothing like that since, maybe, the terrorist attacks on our country on 9/11.
Ironically, it was a terrorist attack that would bring my keyboard to a halt a generation later. This time around, it was a bunch of buffoons festooned in MAGA hats and brandishing Confederate flags, storming our nation’s capitol in an ill-conceived, failed attempt to overturn the 2020 president election.
As if we needed a reminder of it, it must be great to be white in America. If you are, you get to stroll up, scale the walls of the Capitol a la Spiderman, smash the building’s windows, unlawfully gain access to it, and take selfies with police officers and security personnel.
Had that mob looked more like me, like most of last year’s Black Lives Matter protesters, we’d have been looking knees on necks.
I’m not terribly patriotic, but I’ve been to Washington a few times, the first of which was when I was still in high school as a part of a organization called Close Up.
I remember being struck by the majesty of the mall’s monuments, as well as by the Capitol and the White House — even though its inhabitant at the time, Ronald Reagan, wasn’t high on my list of politicians. I still had a reverence of sorts for the area, so I was startled by the blatant entitlement of a group that would break into the Capitol, threaten the life of Vice President Pence (at our president’s urging) and Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi, and vandalize so much of the building.
As I write this, several federal law enforcement “authorities” are under investigation for suspected crimes committed at the Capitol last week. Several of the MAGA morons who were dumb enough to post their pictures online have been charged. And just yesterday, the FBI reported that they’ve learned of a plan to host protests at all 50 of our states’ capitols, as well as in Washington DC, during the inauguration of President-elect Joe Biden and Vice President-elect Kamala Harris.
All of which prompts me, as I think specifically of Harris, to paraphrase Whoopi Goldberg’s classic line from the 1990 feature film, Ghost:
Looking forward to next week, I’m more nervous for Biden and Harris than I was for the Obamas in 2008, as they took an impromptu stroll down Pennsylvania Avenue toward the White House on Inauguration Day. Luckily, they made it safely home. But our country, sadly, is even more fractured than it was then, mostly due to a megalomaniac who won’t just pack his stuff and get out.
According to several news outlets, there’s a call for increased National Guard and Civil Service protection for Biden and Harris next week, in the wake on last week’s insanity. That’s great, but I think we need to go several steps further to ensure the pair’s safety. I’d cancel all outside events, hold a private inaugural inside and with security, and usher our new president and vice president into office safely.
And after the last four years, aren’t we all waiting to exhale?
Mr. President, get your shit…get your shit…and get out!