This Unholy Mess


My Anonymous Op-Ed

First, I want to offer hearty thanks to Paul Moser for allowing me to use his space in furtherance of free speech in America. It is selfless acts like this that have put him on the speed dial of the Pulitzer Journalism Committee, and occasionally provided him with a free slice of day-old pizza from sympathetic local merchants.
My aim in writing this piece is simple: I want to let everyone know that although the average supporter of Mr. Trump appears lost in a fog of resentment and seemingly deliberate ignorance—all in service to the president’s erratic and mendacious activities—there is a small part of each and every one of them that is still sane. I know it might be hard to believe, considering some of the outrageous garbage that they seem to happily absorb from his word salads (topped with Russian dressing, of course), but it’s true.
I should know, because I am one of those small bits. And I can assure you that there are tiny portions of honesty, heart and even brains in many other Trump people. You might not be aware of us because of their frequent unhinged, absurd, and/or bigoted statements, but we, these barely visible slices of sanity, like to see ourselves as real patriots, discouraging Trumpers in their worst impulses. For example, we have been instrumental in slowing idiotic efforts to find Clinton-owned child porn businesses in pizzerias around the country, or the identities of millions of non-existent illegal voters, or pretending that Melania can stand the sight of him. Sometimes we feel good just preventing these people from biting the heads off of live chickens.
To be clear, we are not leftist bomb-throwers, not freaky socialists with pie-in-the-sky wishes such as a health care system that will prevent Americans from dying needlessly. We want to see the president succeed in the parts of his agenda that are most sensible. These would include finding a brand of tanning bed that will provide him with a more natural look, as well as encouraging him to establish a healthy, stable relationship with Stormy Daniels while getting a nice gig as host of an early evening game show on a major network. Maybe even getting an actual hair stylist.
We are not unaware of the danger to ourselves as we pursue these goals within the “minds” and “hearts” of Trump supporters, which is why I and my compatriots have opted for anonymity. Were we to be identified, it could easily trigger a wave of violent retribution within them. No one wants to see these people amputating their own limbs or poking their eyes out in a vain attempt to be rid of the last pesky vestiges of morality and sanity. Needlessly psychological maiming is something we have come to accept among them, but physical mangling is clearly a shocking excess to be avoided if at all possible.
We want our message of hope to reach the public primarily to dispel the terrible national depression occasioned by the spectacle of so many American citizens being not only badly duped by Trump, but worse, being unable and/or unwilling to admit just how disastrous their choice has been. If and when they do awaken from their stupor, when their leader has finally grabbed his last pussy and told his final lie in public life, we certainly don’t want to make their recovery therapies (which we are assured will be paid for by Mexico) more complicated than need be.
So when you see mobs of Trumpers at a “rally,” glassy-eyed, drunk with shouts of “Lock her up,” and sporting t-shirts emblazoned with the Confederate battle flag, no need to despair. Know that within each of them is a spark of decency, a flame, a tiny fire that is not just the result of eating bad barbecue.

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