The recklessness of hope. This is now my current mood, not the Audacity of Hope that Obama wrote about. Is it reckless to think Trump might be defeated, that women are turning against him, that the polls are good for Biden? Surely we won’t get fooled again.
Now il duce is coming on like some modern-day Lazarus – how is Mrs Lazarus, by the way? Anyone know or care? He now claims immunity to Covid (unscientific, untrue) as well as having a kind of “protective glow”. He doesn’t even mean the makeup he so badly applies. Is this a psychotic delusion? Is he on a ’roid high? Has his near-death experience produced some kind of euphoria? Again, I don’t blame Trump alone, but his myriad enablers, some of whom are apparently doctors, some of whom he has infected, some of whom have been thrown by the wayside. Still, I can see, despite the absolute insanity of it all, that he projects strength against Joe Biden’s quivery decency. It still astonishes me that this is the best the Democrats can do.
I keep trying to work out where I will be on the night, and it looks as if – because of lockdown – I won’t be able to be where I wanted to be, with whom I wanted to be with. I keep imagining the next day. If he wins, will anyone be able to get out of bed?
Lately, though, I look at him, and that scene in When Harry Met Sally comes to mind. I think: “I’ll have what he’s having.” Cells from foetuses, antibody cocktails, steroids, “heart medication” and the rest. Who even knows?
Put the cannula in now, Nurse Ratched. I am ready.
Source: US Politics - theguardian.com
