Dancing on the Grave

Planning a rally in Tulsa on Juneteenth. Threats of more police violence against protesters—from our President!—at said rally. Purposeful ignoring of COVID restrictions. Armed white supremacists beating down peaceful protestors in Ohio. Yet more murders of black folks by police. Former Trump staff member who stayed silent during Impeachment Hearings now publishing a tell-all book that Trump is trying to shut down. Trump’s niece joining in the Portrait of a Sad, Sick Man. Supreme Court passing two legislations in the face of Trump’s displeasure. Non-college-educated white women who voted for Trump now saying they won’t this time.

What’s going on?!!! I believe we are witnessing the last gasp of a dying monster, the death throes of a monstrous beast clawing the air and thrashing its tail, enraged to realize that his days of privilege are numbered. Our job is to stay out of reach and let him finish himself off, taking down his fellow brutes that supported him and are now turning against him and deserting the sinking ship like rats. And then stand fierce guard over the ballot box and send every Senate Republican (except Mitt Romney) packing. They can all go somewhere and hold their mask-less rallies, get sick from the “fake pandemic,” get denied health care, miraculously survive the disease, but get charged with a felony for endangering their fellow citizens and be denied future voting rights. And then Trump gets hauled off to prison (pick a crime. any crime.) to room with some of the black inmates incarcerated as part of a deliberate nefarious government strategy to stop them from voting and corporate strategy to earn big bucks(see the movie Thirteen).

This the fairy tale ending of our long nightmare that I am wishing for. And then comes the glorious ending, when we all join hands and jubilantly dance on the grave of centuries of purposefully fostered brutality, purposely perpetuated ignorance, purposefully preserved unearned privilege. I want to be there for it. Yes, I do.