Past present and future

The New York Review of Books is running a series on living in Trumpworld. Katha Pollitt wrote a blisterer.

I sometimes feel like I’m a different person now. I’m fidgety and irritable and have trouble concentrating. For months after the election, I could hardly read, except for books about Roman history, which turns out to be full of Trumps: fantastically rich sociopaths obsessed with crushing their enemies.

Snap. I was thinking Nero-Caligula all day after the Man of the Year tweet.

My work seems trivial: Given what we are facing, what difference does one more Nation column make? I might as well be an ancient Egyptian scribe logging production figures for cat mummies. In the old days, the days before Trump, it bothered me that so many people loved things I thought were stupid. Now I just think, Go ahead, enjoy yourself. Maybe your Batman DVDs will comfort you when we’re wandering around in the ashen hellscape of whatever apocalypse Trump will bring down upon us.

Just about everything seems trivial, or futile and hopeless. Trump is laying waste to everything so what’s the use? What can we even?

It works retroactively, too, because Trump is undoing every single thing Obama did.

It also projects into the future, because we have a pattern here: the Republicans keep putting worse and worse malevolent idiots into the White House. Reagan, Bush Junior, Trump – what future can there even be?

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