PLUSH TOY JUSTICE

  When he was very young, my son put one of his stuffed animals on trial. 

  I can't recall the precise nature of the allegations against Mr. Bear, but I can tell you they were very serious. All of the other stuffed animals were on hand for the tense courtroom drama. Since he was just a little kid, the stage direction was occasionally primitive. It was difficult to tell where the jury left off and the audience began, for one thing. 

                SHORTPANTS STALINS 

There were other problems; I felt at the time that Mr. Bear's attorney, Pengy the Penguin, was pretty much phoning in the case for the defense. Early in the proceedings, the whole affair began to resemble a Moscow show trial. That shouldn't be too surprising, as children at play are like shortpants Stalins, holding the fate of their toys in their hands and demonstrating little remorse once their impulsive snap decisions are made. 

  Arguably the most disturbing aspect of "The People vs. Mr. Bear" was the blinding speed of it in its latter stages. Once the guilty verdict was read by the foreman (perhaps "foremonkey" would be the appropriate legal term), The State wasted no time in literally stringing the defendant up and hanging him from the nearby mantelpiece. None of us in the audience had realized until this moment that it was a death penalty situation, as the judge's instructions to the jury had been vague. 

  In the real world, at least in America, the wheels of justice turn much more slowly. The glacial pace of our legal system puts one's liberalism to the test, certainly, though I'd argue what really puts liberalism to the test is humanity. It's easy for liberals to whip up empathy for all manner of underdogs, but these days the course correction foisted upon us by our right wing has turned the left rabid. There's much rejoicing about the appointing of a special prosecutor, and I suspect also much naïveté about how satisfying that process and its outcome will be. 

  As usual, I'm outraged by the events we read about each day, but I don't feel at all comfortable in the role of wronged and thus bloodthirsty citizen. (I encourage you to watch a film called "Fury," in which an innocent Spencer Tracy is railroaded and lynched by a violent small town mob, to understand my reticence.) 

  Yes, I know-- you'll say, But our president is not innocent! I don't feel one drop of sympathy for him! 

  
                 "BUNCOMBE" IS  A GENTEEL WAY OF SAYING "HORSESHIT" 

That will be the substance of your remarks, but your words will be more ugly and degrading. You'll flatter yourself that this level of anger has to do with the very meaning of our country, the Constitution, etc., but as far as I can tell, that's the same buncombe trotted out by conservatives when they seethe about Obama. Or the evil Hillary. I wish, not for the first or last time, that Thomas Jefferson were seated here backing me up on this. In my fantasy, the first thing TJ would say to me would be an extravagant compliment on my subtle patriotism and cool intellectual restraint. (Although, if I'm honest about it, the first thing he would say would probably be, "How ever do you get by without a dumbwaiter?")

  So, I'm laying out here my analysis of the current psychological landscape. Very few will read it without disgust. I welcome your disgust, actually. Not for me the laurels and garlands of the overpraised celebrity hero; I don't puff up my chest with pride at the admiration of the manyheaded. I'm writing this for posterity. And, for that matter, posterior. 

  The key to my bizarre worldview is a captivating blend of cynicism and idealism. No matter how cynically I interpret the world of man and woman, I'm still inexplicably baffled when we run true to form. I actually have a great undying love for humanity, in spite of its Stalins, Trumps, and Biebers, and like most love, it batters me emotionally like waves on a rocky coast. 

  Much like the rest of you, I'm constantly wringing my hands and asking how anyone can possibly not see how awful the president is, even though I know the answer. I'm appalled by the lack of integrity of the GOP, although I don't actually respect our political parties to begin with. I'm saddened by the self-congratulatory behavior of our left wing, even though it's nothing new. Just about the only group that gets off light when I'm handing out judgment is the deluded Trump voters who continue to support and even admire him despite the hundreds and hundreds of obvious reasons not to. I know this last bit will provoke some of you the most, so allow me to clarify. And for once, I'll do it without rancor towards my leftist and liberal brothers and sisters. For despite appearances, I forgive them as well. 

  
    INEXPLICABLE INTRODUCTION OF ANECDOTES ABOUT SUPER-OLD BLACK LADY

My grandmother used to have a maid who was about a thousand years old. She lived in a shack, didn't believe we'd been on the moon, shrunk countless sweaters due to laundry ignorance, and (according to the legend that provided my relatives limitless amusement) once refused to sell her ancient Chippendale cabinet to an eager antique dealer. "Indeed not, I keeps my Tupperware in there," she supposedly said to the aghast city slicker. 

  She also once told me she hoped we'd tell our children about her, suggesting the phrase "and we had a maid named Debby." I try not to think about why that makes me so sad, even decades later. It's one of my own personal brushes with the after effects of our "peculiar institution" of slavery, and I don't mean to suggest that I have some special knowledge as a result. Despite my years at Howard and my great passion for African-American music, in many ways I'm basically still a privileged white guy. Am I giving away my fortune to assuage this guilt? Indeed not. 

  Here's what I AM doing, and it will strike most liberals as wrongheaded, even perverse. 

  Debby's story can be interpreted as a story about racism, which of course it is, but I like to frame it as part of a larger, more honest narrative. It's the real story of America, the story where ignorant and backward people are laughed at, or vilified, by smarter men and women who would not recognize their own elitism as ignorance. I do, though. The notion that there are worse (or dumber) people in the world doesn't make me feel like some sort of hero. That sort of indulgence is trafficked in by left and right, and while we're at it, black and white. (If you've ever seen an African-American giving shit to a 7-11 employee of foreign origin, you won't need this spelled out.) 

  Debby believed that men couldn't have been on the moon, because it was "God's moon." A lot of white people believe Donald Trump is a great man who cares about the little guy. 

  I'm not inclined to judge the deluded and the credulous. Sure, they piss me off all the time, because their delusions often cause suffering in very real ways, and when I'm being reflexive rather than reflective, I say things about them that would appear to contradict my self-righteous point here. (It's like I have an inner Spicer, that I sometimes send out to represent me, without fully briefing him.) 

  All of us, including me, believe much of what we're told, while blithely batting away other "alternative facts." These patterns are set early in our mental and emotional lives, and once they're in place we tell ourselves the bedtime story that we are coolly sifting through all the information given, wisely rejecting the spurious horseshit of the other side, while embracing the shining truth of our own. 

  I'm not trying to suggest that Donald Trump is being judged unfairly. (That's HIS job to suggest that narrative, and it's a duty he never shirks.) I am suggesting, though, that the rise and (fingers crossed!) fall of one of history's most charmless conmen is an entirely human situation, and a thoroughly American one at that. 

  
                  THE TWO MOST AMERICAN WHITE GUYS "OF ALL TIME"


  I've long believed that P.T. Barnum and Henry Ford are the two most influential Americans, and our national character reflects their teachings more than it reflects any high-minded Jeffersonian philosophy. What's more American than bullshit we don't need, cranked out on an assembly line by underpaid galley slaves, and sold to us by a grinning weasel with striped pants and a carrying voice? Jefferson can potter around in his dusty library all he wants, but the real culture of the USA is the sports complex where we drink giant sodas and pretend that sports represent us at our very best, or the mega church where poor people dressed in clothes they can ill afford roll around on the beautifully carpeted floors while speaking in tongues. 

  The real villains are rarely seen, the ones who quietly profit from shitty entertainment or war carnage, depending on the season. The commissars of both political parties keep their yacht gassed up, and the best of them trot out the rhetoric of a civics class's Greatest Hits, while the worst of them use the humbler language of the Roman coliseum, or the schoolyard. 

  All of that was true long before the Donald clomped onto the scene. He was elected, in large part, because we all believe the best about ourselves and the worst about others. Hillary Clinton was a tough sell, even for liberals, because the narrative tarring her was so easy to swallow. Her strongest suit (hint: it's not personal magnetism) was her foreign policy credentials, so those had to be attacked with the most vehemence. My brother-in-law told me she was the most ethically vile person ever to run for president of these United States. The list of heinous crimes attributed to her is almost more impressive than the list of Trumpian outrages that many of us refuse to believe are invented by the media. 

  But while that notion of Hillary as Disney villain, nurtured lovingly over almost three decades, muddied the waters, the real psychological master stroke used by Trump (but also, unfortunately, originated by Hillary) was the less loud but more clear message that Hillary doesn't like you or respect you. Nothing, but nothing, makes small town racists circle the wagons faster than being told that they're racists. Nothing makes homophobes hopping mad faster than being told they're homophobic. And if, as is often the case, the bringer of this news is a smug wealthy person from the Big City, where Jews, "Hamilton," and valet parking are seemingly everywhere, forget about it. The barber shops and waffleterias will be abuzz with cracker barrel indignation. 

  

WHO'S MORE ANNOYING, A BOTTOM-FEEDING CRACKER OR A PANTSUITED SOCIAL JUSTICE WARRIOR?

And I can't entirely blame them. Are these hicks supposed to sit around all day, looking within their hearts to see if they can be better people? Are they supposed to hear the disdain coming from pantsuited harpies and Hollywood actors and say, those educated folks may be right about me? How often do YOU get criticized, even in an indirect abstract way, and immediately move into self-examination mode? Do you often thumb your way onto Facebook and crow about how we should take the log out of our own eyes for once? 

  Let me stash the buggy whip under the seat, so I can wrap this up. Here's my prediction, and I'm deliberately going out on a limb so you can flagellate me later if it turns out I'm wrong. 

  I don't think the special prosecutor, even if he possesses a doggedness worthy of Ken Starr, will find that Donald Trump literally colluded with the Russians. I can't see the Russians approaching him with a plan like that, mostly because they would be smart enough to realize they couldn't trust him, or even rely on him to stick to a script. Can YOU imagine a scenario where Donald Trump keeps a secret for someone else for even two seconds, or shows the kind of loyalty he's always grimly demanding of even his groundskeepers? I can't. Moreover, they wouldn't need him. 

  
I COULD HAVE REFERRED TO THE HUBRIS AS "TRENTA" INSTEAD OF VENTI. RARE EXAMPLE OF RESTRAINT, OR MISSED OPPORTUNITY? 


There probably is conflict of interest material, and very possibly a mountain of it. Whether any of it amounts to crime, which is the purview of a special prosecutor, remains to be seen. Beyond that, I see impeachment as a coin flip. If the GOP finally decides they can't get their agenda across with Trump in the Oval Office, maybe they'll reluctantly go that route. But it won't be quick (it wasn't with Nixon), and it won't result in a newly chastened GOP. Bush's benighted presidency didn't, and neither will this. They'll find a way to characterize their appeasement of his administration as democratic, or otherwise laudable in some way. Remember when Newt Gingrich was confronted about the hypocrisy of his pillorying Clinton by day while fucking his own mistress by night, and he confessed that his real crime was loving this country too much? We should all let out a respectful whistle at that venti-sized hubris, but we should also assume that we ain't seen nothing yet.