Last week in my Sunday Curiosities series, I posted a fiery video in which Steve Shives explains why he thinks Sam Harris is a douchebag. Of all the interesting things I posted in that article, I was dismayed to see my item on Harris get the most attention. People on social media were aggrieved that I would post such an “unfair” portrayal of Harris.(more…)
In the week following the election of Donald Trump, I found myself having many unexpected conversations with Trump supporters at work. As I rang them up at the register, I would joke about how much the election induced me to drink. Usually, after laughing together, they would start to share with me their own thoughts on the election.
One particular conversation stands out to me, in bold relief. (more…)
As a rule, I try not to offer political or social commentary. I feel ill equipped for such a task, and generally try to focus only on my own immediate world: my own thoughts and feelings, my close connections and relationships.
But as I’ve quietly watched this age of Trump, I’m noticing something that alarms and disgusts me: our willingness to forgive rotten integrity if someone agrees with us.
Like many, I watched in horror as America elected a narcissistic bully as our next president. Like many, I was overwhelmed by despair, panic, and grief, and astonished by the intensity of my feelings. A serene voice in my head repeated, over and over, “There, there, things might not be that bad. We don’t know the future. Maybe he won’t be a complete unmitigated monster.” And yet I couldn’t curtail the horror, disgust, and panic that was rising within me. I couldn’t sleep, I drank too much, I was a morose basket case. I couldn’t get out of my head the circus of obscenities that we had all been exposed to: the abuses, the lies, the disregard for the beams of democracy, the Caligula-like grandiosity of Donald Trump. Now we are to live with such disgust – and whatever other follies may come – for the next four years.