If you have something to say, say it to my face
Kamala inspires me with this line. And her willingness to put trolls in their place with sentiments like "I've overcome guys like Trump my whole career."
She correctly characterizes Trump and Vance as trite hackneyed cliches. As petty thugs.
As people who say shit behind your back and put their fingers in their ears when you try to respond. Who pout and sulk and "fire" anyone who calls their bluff. Those who don't pay their lawyers or their taxes.
I love that. It energizes me…the idea of public scrutiny of those who are empty vessels. Those who draw attention to themselves by dissing the success of others. Shining the light on false claims and puffery.
I keep imagining my ex-wife hearing Kamala and recognizing that Kamala's referring to her. People who collapse the instant the spotlight shines on anyone else. The "I wrote a song about how hillbilly humble I am" or the one-person monologue fetishists.
People who scheme to destroy any one who is happier, smarter, more successful, more effective, more influential. People who think where they came from is inadequate so they destroy their current world and endlessly reinvent their past.
Those who turn red in the face when someone else receives praise or even a small helping hand. (The $13k a year that supports Claudia's family in return for cleaning our vacated home—you totally support that, right? She knows how you feel about her and her two kids. So do I.)
The liars and cheaters. The eternal victims. The performers and con artists. The fight flight or fawn addicts. The coattails riders. The second string. Those who begrudge and betray.
Unlike Kamala, I did not have to survive time with men or woman like that to leave my smallish origin town (Schenectady NY). Instead I had partners and parents who expected me to thrive and told me so to my face. Melanie, John Marqusee—such powerful examples of partners who acknowledged others and drew friends with true generosity and kindness. Collaborators.
Then I met you. Thirty years later, thanks to Trump, I too now know your type. I have survived—and can recognize—those familiar characters miles away. I've met a few more since you met Caroline. They're toast now.
Thank you Kamala. You will triumph. I borrow some of your strength and redirect it to my own panderers and bullies: If you have something to say, you know where I am.
I'm here on this page saying this directly to you.
No one I respect knows where you are hiding, or who you're envying now. But I know what you'll be doing tomorrow. Blaming your friends and partners and family. The same as yesterday and today.
She correctly characterizes Trump and Vance as trite hackneyed cliches. As petty thugs.
As people who say shit behind your back and put their fingers in their ears when you try to respond. Who pout and sulk and "fire" anyone who calls their bluff. Those who don't pay their lawyers or their taxes.
I love that. It energizes me…the idea of public scrutiny of those who are empty vessels. Those who draw attention to themselves by dissing the success of others. Shining the light on false claims and puffery.
I keep imagining my ex-wife hearing Kamala and recognizing that Kamala's referring to her. People who collapse the instant the spotlight shines on anyone else. The "I wrote a song about how hillbilly humble I am" or the one-person monologue fetishists.
People who scheme to destroy any one who is happier, smarter, more successful, more effective, more influential. People who think where they came from is inadequate so they destroy their current world and endlessly reinvent their past.
Those who turn red in the face when someone else receives praise or even a small helping hand. (The $13k a year that supports Claudia's family in return for cleaning our vacated home—you totally support that, right? She knows how you feel about her and her two kids. So do I.)
The liars and cheaters. The eternal victims. The performers and con artists. The fight flight or fawn addicts. The coattails riders. The second string. Those who begrudge and betray.
Unlike Kamala, I did not have to survive time with men or woman like that to leave my smallish origin town (Schenectady NY). Instead I had partners and parents who expected me to thrive and told me so to my face. Melanie, John Marqusee—such powerful examples of partners who acknowledged others and drew friends with true generosity and kindness. Collaborators.
Then I met you. Thirty years later, thanks to Trump, I too now know your type. I have survived—and can recognize—those familiar characters miles away. I've met a few more since you met Caroline. They're toast now.
Thank you Kamala. You will triumph. I borrow some of your strength and redirect it to my own panderers and bullies: If you have something to say, you know where I am.
I'm here on this page saying this directly to you.
No one I respect knows where you are hiding, or who you're envying now. But I know what you'll be doing tomorrow. Blaming your friends and partners and family. The same as yesterday and today.
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