Do We Overcome?

The mob ascended the stairs in a fury. They scaled walls, clinging by their fingertips with fire in their eyes. Searching the crowd it swung between blood lust and euphoria, sharing only madness.

The lies had accumulated, little ones and grandiose ones, amplified by media allies that implied journalistic affirmation but simply widened a rabbit hole into a sinkhole where millions of Americans fell and could not extricate themselves. All legitimate sources had been undermined, vilified as partners in the Deep State charade by the leader of the free world and duplicated by those who coveted his popularity with no ability to create it on their own.

The right wing media saw a viewership that was fiercely loyal, a market that could be completely owned and unchallenged. The advertising on these outlets spoke to who they knew was listening, hawking products that preyed on the fears of the indoctrinated – gold investments as a hedge against a collapsing economy, meals that would last 25 years in storage for the wise prepper, identity theft protection, home security systems, all things that point to the imminent demise of a civil society which the host will then instruct the listener is due to the far left liberal communists. The products fly off the shelves, along with firearms and the ammunition that is now as rare as a moderate republican, and any hope of getting accurate information is nipped in the bud, as the real enemies had already been identified as lurking on the other networks, and it was that very danger that made changing the channel unthinkable.

And the temperature rises and rises.

A final tweek of the temperature by the President, his son and his lawyer was all it took to blow the lid off the pressure cooker and send a fortified militia marching on the seat of American power. The bubble the supercharged crowd live in did not allow the recognition that what they were about to do would turn a country against them, breaking through a passive decency into a proactive one, a decency that demanded recognition. It broke through partisanship, if just a bit, and it revealed a hypocrisy more venal than we may have ever seen as former allies of the mob ran for cover, claiming to be shocked by the violence they fomented but never imagined possible.

The images are shocking. Rabid believers racing up the steps of the Capital, scaling walls, smashing windows, announcing the end of an argument and the start of a war. The faces are flushed with fury, whipped to a frenzy even they can no longer control with rational decision making gone, raw emotion being the fuel of an out of control siege.

Where had I seen this before? Why did I have this overwhelming feeling of deja vu? These images seemed so familiar, though I couldn’t connect them to any American historical event. I could see a blurry recognition but couldn’t focus it, couldn’t clear the smoke obscuring my vision.

But then it lifted and it became clear, the similarities undeniable.

World War Z. This was the Trump Zombie Apocalypse.

Thought gone, reason gone, mental capacity permanently cauterized, all that was left was a seething hunger for blood. The results of their actions were unseen, what would be left after the bloodletting was unknown and the ability to care about that absent. The violence was the goal. Striking out was the purpose. It was an end in itself. Blood was survival. There was no longer any way to stop it.

Watching this on television has seemed to be a wake-up call for many Americans. The stories of patriot groups training in the woods on the weekends, of 3%ers, (a group that believes only three percent of the American population was required and activated to defeat the great army of England during the revolution, and that percentage will suffice again to destroy our home grown government) preparing to go to war, of Proud Boys willing to defend to the death their concept of Western civilization, of white power nationalists giddy over the prospect of proving their superiority on the streets, of mad right wing zealots dreaming of their day to come have always seemed just that. Stories. Oddities of the American fringe. A tiny island of madness in the midst of us all.

Then we watched it. Live.

This is the Edmund Pettus Bridge moment for a new generation. The singular event that crystallizes the stories into a terrifying reality, that it had all been true, that the capacity for evil was far greater than had ever been imagined. There were more of them than the casual spectator had understood, and they were actually willing to fight for the lies they had succumbed to. They would kill for them, even die for them, and they were coming. They had been activated and no one was going to easily put them back in the cage. Now it was real.

This will be a fight. The population is becoming aware of this now that they have seen what these poor zombies are capable of, and no matter what happens with impeachment or the 25th Amendment will have any effect on these indoctrinated victims. They are all in, and they will have to be defeated.

Do we overcome? I think so. But I don’t think anyone really understands what it is going to take to do so. A domestic enemy has risen from the ashes of the most toxic presidency it is possible to imagine, and it will be a fascist hoard that will need to be beaten.

Again.