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I downloaded the Substack app recently in order to follow some pretty interesting folks who are part of the "New Right". I suppose that, as a dissident (pseudo) intellectual who rejects the modern Left and is a (decidedly lukewarm) Trumpist, I am a very loosely affiliated with that movement myself.
This morning, I wrote a journal entry about the assassination attempt on Donald Trump. By the time I'd finished and looked at Substack, I found that everything I had to say about the event had already been said by someone else. Sure, I could have pulled an astrological chart and written about timing of the attack and the Mars and Uranus conjunction, but even that has been pretty well covered in other corners of the internet.
I heard about the incident last night while out to eat with my liberal family. My aunt drew my attention to one of the TV screens and said something like "They shot your guy." I heard her mutter under her breath that she was sorry "they" missed.
I don't fully blame her for her bloodthirsty viciousness. She has a neurodegenerative disease that has increasingly made her bitter, angry, and quick to lash out. She developed this disease suddenly in the last couple of years. It's probably a coincidence that she's been mainlining MRNA semi-regularly.
That aside, if someone took potshots at the people I consider to be my political enemies, I probably wouldn't verbalize satisfaction, but I can imagine that I'd feel it. I'm not claiming moral high ground, although I am against political violence. I can't even claim to be surprised by the assassination attempt, although I will confess to feeling a powerful indignance and a strong rebellious sentiment.
Every once in a while, we have those moments where Something Changes, and a new reality subsequently takes shape. Yesterday, Something Changed. Even if you regard electoral politics as the dumbest, worst sort of kabuki theater, a new epoch is taking shape.
Yesterday, they shot my guy.
This morning, I wrote a journal entry about the assassination attempt on Donald Trump. By the time I'd finished and looked at Substack, I found that everything I had to say about the event had already been said by someone else. Sure, I could have pulled an astrological chart and written about timing of the attack and the Mars and Uranus conjunction, but even that has been pretty well covered in other corners of the internet.
I heard about the incident last night while out to eat with my liberal family. My aunt drew my attention to one of the TV screens and said something like "They shot your guy." I heard her mutter under her breath that she was sorry "they" missed.
I don't fully blame her for her bloodthirsty viciousness. She has a neurodegenerative disease that has increasingly made her bitter, angry, and quick to lash out. She developed this disease suddenly in the last couple of years. It's probably a coincidence that she's been mainlining MRNA semi-regularly.
That aside, if someone took potshots at the people I consider to be my political enemies, I probably wouldn't verbalize satisfaction, but I can imagine that I'd feel it. I'm not claiming moral high ground, although I am against political violence. I can't even claim to be surprised by the assassination attempt, although I will confess to feeling a powerful indignance and a strong rebellious sentiment.
Every once in a while, we have those moments where Something Changes, and a new reality subsequently takes shape. Yesterday, Something Changed. Even if you regard electoral politics as the dumbest, worst sort of kabuki theater, a new epoch is taking shape.
Yesterday, they shot my guy.