“Who knows what could be inside Mueller’s vault? The pee tape? Evidence of Trump sex crimes? Audio tapes of him saying the n-word?”
“Sir it’s literally just copies of the Mueller report”
— Oliver Willis (@owillis) July 21, 2019
I honestly have no patience for it anymore, the idea that at some point Trump and his administration are just gonna kind of … resolve themselves. Like we’re gonna get out of this without somebody having to be unpopular, having to say the rude things, having to BRING THE FUCKING ARTICLES OF IMPEACHMENT. Having to censure him, having to reckon. Like there will finally be something said that will somehow make this easy. This was never gonna be easy.
I don’t know who the hell ever gave these grown-ass adults the idea that any of this would be easy.
Like we waited in the national press for “go back where you came from” before we said “racist” (and even then), we waited for the Mueller report before we said foreign influence, we wait for Kavanaugh before we talk about Roe.
Do we have to start actually murdering children in the camps with our bare hands before we can close them? Does a river need to catch fire again before we acknowledge polluters are polluting? How many more years do the wars need to go on? How many generations are we going to chew up out of vengeance, and how obvious does it have to be that there’s no good way out of there?
We like to think there will be some unavoidable turning point in the future, because we write and learn our histories that way: Rosa Parks said I’m not moving, and that ended segregation. Walter Cronkite said this is bullshit, and that ended Vietnam. We wait and wait and wait for somebody else to do the thing that saves us.
Ignoring that people do this ten times a day and we don’t recognize it because in the moment nobody recognizes it.
The fucking point of the canary in the coal mine is that nobody except the goddamn canary is supposed to die.
We’re up to our asses in feathers, and we keep bringing more birds down and watching them drop.