"They killed us, but they ain't whupped us yet."
I'm coming to this late and sloppy because these last few days I've been reading everything I can about the election. The election is over and I was on the wrong side of the mason-dixon line.
It's hard to write on this topic, and express my paranoid fears without upsetting people. I think the American people, were trying to solve a genuine problem, big money and self serving political corruption. I think they were dealt a bad hand. I think things are headed in a bad direction, but that's just me. I may be wrong.
I don't know what to think anymore of pundits and political writing. I mayjust give them all up after this, The way the polls, even the much revered 568 of Nate Silver, were seriously skunked. Its inexplicable. The Russians? Was the election actually rigged, but in Trumps favor? Paranoia blossoms.
And yet and yet and yet, I can't wait to read the books that will come out, the explaining, the back pedaling, those shameless talking hairdos who claim they alone saw it coming before everyone else and so on.
I look at this whole thing and I wonder - does God exist?
Here is a man, so spiritually damaged, so psychologically deformed, and yet by sheer force of personality he pushed the thing through to the ultimate end as though, like Doctor Strange, he commanded levels of reality inaccessible to lesser mortals. How is this possible? Are there multiple universes? Wasn't my dentist's office on the fourth floor as I remember and this afternoon I found it on the third? What Universe is this? Can I choose another?
I am an escapist at heart. I write escapist stuff, and I mostly enjoy reading escapist stuff. In my life, when stressful forces become too hard to bear gracefully. When others turn to marijuana, I turn to comic books. Or Science Fiction. Or old pulp magazine stories. Or erotic anthologies. Something hairy chested, ridiculous and absorbing. Throbbing nipples and stiffened giblets. These are what I think of as the "spiritual comic book" defense, because they serve an odd spiritual purpose of delivering me to other worlds when this one sucks the big one. It gets me through. I'm very grateful to my literary heroes who have gotten me through hard times like these. Don't ever think the genre you write in doesn't serve a higher purpose for somebody out there.
I think for tonight, as soon as I finish dashing this off, I'm going to lay down naked and read a couple of Wonder Woman graphic novels. We'll see what comes up.