Open Letter to the Enablers
If you knowingly serve drinks to an alcoholic, are you not guilty of enabling his deterioration? If you give heroine to a junkie, are you not an accomplice in his destruction? If you hide a schizophrenic’s medication, are you not abetting his lapse into unreason?
Today, the world is watching a megalomaniacal narcissist, an infantile sociopath, spiraling toward a crash landing of world-historical proportions. He is threatening to rally his idol-worshipping troops against everyone in his own party who denies him his childish fantasies, expressing hatred for anyone who refuses to echo his cuckoo-land declarations of victory in the face of obvious defeat, ever more loudly demanding that everyone in the universe admit to the truth of his crazed vision of things, toying with using the U.S. military to overturn a reality in which he disbelieves, and overtly trying to pay off the American people (with tax dollars, of course) to love him enough to join his dream world, that neon red wonderland in which he won reelection with unanimous popular support and everyone knows it.
Today, anyone and everyone who continues to cheer on this public unraveling of Donald Trump — from the conservative media profiteers (some of whom used to be allies and even personal friends of mine) to the conspiracy theory con artists to the tens of millions of cultists in the general population — anyone, I say, who eggs on Trump’s increasingly unhinged ranting and raving, his embarrassingly pre-pubescent temper tantrums against the cosmos, and even against his closest political supporters and facilitators (e.g., Mitch McConnell, Mike Pence), should be held accountable for the collapse they are enabling.
A man who was never mentally, morally, or emotionally fit to be president of anything, but who was artificially propped up as leader of the so-called “free world” by cretins hoping to benefit from this reality television fraud, is finally cracking under the strain of his sheer incompetence and inadequacy — as a public figure, as a statesman, as a human being. His fall is as ugly and humiliating as it was inevitable. People claiming to be “supporting him” now might as well be holding him down as asylum workers force his arms into a straitjacket. They are, however, behaving exactly as one ought to have expected from them, given what they were willing to do to their country over the past five years without shame: They are protecting their own egos and careers and profits at the expense of another man’s crumbling life.
For five years, various defenders of Trump have dared to accuse me, merely on the basis of my being a critic, of “disliking Trump,” even of “hating Trump” — not to mention, of course, being a victim of the infamous (and non-existent) Trump Derangement Syndrome.
No, folks, it was not me. I never “hated Trump.” I merely saw what he was, and what he would become if given real power. Now, in the name of whatever is left of that shriveled, chaotic excuse for a soul, I am urging all those people who told me I was the hater, to leave the man alone at last. Reject his unhinged frothing at the mouth. Dismiss his nonsensical embrace of every fruitcake and thug whispering sweet bullcrap in his ear. Let him recover some semblance of rationality in imposed isolation, if there is anything left to save. Stop serving drinks to the alcoholic, buying drugs for the junkie, and telling the schizophrenic he is just fine without that medication.
You have used him up. Now at least have the mercy to throw him away. Grant him the small dignity of being allowed to curl up in his dark corner and spew his gibberish in private, rather than encouraging him to do it under the twenty-four-hour spotlight, surrounded by a hundred live microphones and an audience of billions. He is done, and so is the fantasy world his nation-destroying worshippers have helped him create. Let this falsest of false gods come to terms with life as a mere human again, to the extent that is still possible.
