Add what happened to Alex Pretti as latest shock to a haystack of last straws
Oh honey.
You think this is going to be easy?
That's so cute. Have a seat. Let's talk.
Yes, President Donald Trump had a bad couple of weeks. Two of the courageous Minnesotans confronting masked ICE thugs were shot dead. On video. From several angles. A 5-year-old in a blue bunny hat was photographed, rigid with terror, being hauled away. ("The worst of the worst..." they said). He's being held at a detention center in Texas now.
Some portion of the American public, which has been — what? Distracted over the past decade? In a coma for 11 years? — stirred. Suddenly Democratic leaders are talking about shutting down the government until... wait for it... a few more rules are put in place for ICE. They must wear body cameras! And uncover their faces!
Oh sweetie ... we have rules already. They're called "laws." Once upon a time these laws applied to everyone. Now they're mere tinder used by Trump to set American traditions on fire. Rules and laws don't help if they aren't being enforced. Asking for more is like rushing into a burning house and installing smoke detectors in the blazing rooms.
Put it this way: the two ICE agents who shot Alex Pretti, they're still not charged with any crime, right? Because last time I checked, murdering a man in cold blood because he's recording you with his iPhone is already a crime. Even if you're a member of a paramilitary goon squad.
Save the high fives for when that day comes.
Until then, yes, positive signs. These latest abuses were so blatant that even the Lord of the Lies, rather than doubling down, seemed to pause, go all soft focus. He said something dismissive about guns. Greg Bovino, he of the Peaky Blinders haircut and gruppenfuhrer great coat, was dispatched back to whatever banality-of-evil clerk post he occupied before fate gave him a stage to strut upon.
The liberal sigh of relief rolled across the land like a spring zephyr. Social media crackled with talk of corners turned. Bless our bleeding hearts, we see the sun rise and imagine the world born anew.
It's so tempting to speculate: could killing Renee Good and Alex Pretti be the last straw?
Spoiler alert: no, it's not.
To believe otherwise, you have to ignore a giant haystack of previous last straws.
Let's work backward.
Insisting we must invade Greenland in an opera buffa aping of Vladimir Putin, alienating our closest allies, wasn't the last straw. Tearing down the East Wing of the White House without telling anybody wasn't the last straw. Selling the nation's personal data to Elon Musk wasn't the last straw.
Do I have to walk you all the way back to "Gulf of America"? And beyond. We watched an insurrection. Live on television. A mob, goaded by the president, storming the Capitol, searching for the vice president to hang, assaulting police officers. Jan. 6 wasn't the last straw. We re-elected him anyway. We bought this. Sending it back is no simple task. Totalitarianism isn't an Amazon sweatshirt you can decide doesn't fit. A little snug around the neck. You can't just stop by Kohl's and return the fascism you rashly bought. Nor is this a one-time purchase; it's a subscription.
This is not defeatism. I don't believe we're doomed. But I am a fan of an organization that believes in rock bottoms, and we are not there yet. Not close. This is a bounce on our downward tumble. In a year, these will be the good old days.
Confidence is not our friend. Anyone who is not terrified is not paying attention. Only one thing matters: the November midterms, and maybe not even those. Trump is already taking steps to corrupt the vote, to reduce the ability of voters to cast ballots and to undermine the results if not to his liking.
There is reason to be hopeful for. Clearly, the American people — some of them anyway — were not born cringing serfs and do not slip into the role easily. They are not staring fearfully from behind drawn curtains as their neighbors are dragged away. State leadership has been heroic.
But to have any hope of success, we need to fight like we're losing. Because we are. Big time. We've bought the ticket and boarded the train, which left the station long ago. Now we are hurtling toward an unknowable abyss, like it or not. Minneapolis is just more ugly scenery flashing past, soon to be replaced by worse views. Positive feeling isn't going to stop the train, or even slow it. We're rushing — clickety-clack, woo, woooooo — away from what we were, toward what we are becoming.