Learning not to trust others
The US is a country that does not honor its commitments, does not observe International Law, disdains global treaties on peace and then environment, joins Libya in not signing on to human and civil rights covenants (alone among the 190+ UN countries), is is the world's leading exporter of lethal military matériel and toxic waste.
Yet half of us think the rest of the world prefers us to their home country.
So, as a nation, we are dumber and fatter than any country on the planet. And sicker since most of us have limited health care, if any.
Trump isn't a unique American asshole. He is a product of our utterly failed society. Just because we can't see it doesn't mean the rest of the world isn't either terrified or laughing at us. Or both.
I grew up in a family in upstate NY built on complete trust. A friend who knew my parents says that in some ways I came of age in a fantasy bubble. I pushed the Pavlovian lever and immediately got the treat of positive attention, affirmation and love.
When I left home, for Maine, Wyoming, New York City I built structures that responded to my respect, love and kindness, often in large and beautiful ways. I started adult soccer leagues that had dozens of teams. I built business with hundreds of employees and had gorgeous business partners without a single legal problem, ever. I had a smart, generous radical feminist first wife and lots of strong men and women in my social circle. I had an alcoholic marathon training partner who broke 3 hours in Boston and despite her addiction never once missed a workout date with me. For over 10 years!
Trust. Respect. Certainty, like my family, that I was loved.
Then I invited Mina into my home. Clinton was president. And so ended the fantasy. Our first meal together was based on her lies—she did not disclose that she was married and she claimed to have a broken relationship with her own family. She described being an outcast in high school. If my fantasy was overly positive, I met my yin and yang opposite that evening. She was the product of abuse, working for global human rights and the rule of law.
I could say that my life, my new green-carded wife, and my country began the final death spiral during that dinner on West 85th and Columbus Avenue. Il Nostro. The end of the road.
I left the fantasy bubble (though I fought to sustain the construct, despite the cost to me, until I collapsed into trauma, PTSD, and depression). Instead of trust and respect both my country and my two person family descended into pass-the-blame gaslighting.
I had two cats when I met my 2nd wife. Both knew we were fucked. One died of kitty leukemia in three months. The second bolted at a gas station the first time she had the chance, and ran for her life into an unknown neighborhood, never to be seen again.
Look at me now. Look at Trump and his brand of sneering cynical mobster hatred. The fat child unable to find what I had in over abundance. Look at the people he hires and how he abuses them. They will all look just like Rudy Giuliani within a year (it scares me that JD Vance is already showing signs of the same pleading desperation that bankrupted Rudy—keep an eye on his appearance now before he fades from consciousness alone and bankrupt.)
And look at me now. I'm 70. I'm Rudy too. I didn't set boundaries, I worked for my final family without praise or payment. My wife laughed at me behind my back. I lied to myself and said I had an exceptional marriage while my parents both died and my brother descended into bi-polar hell. I found new cats that survived by shape shifting, as many cats do.
I believed that Obama made a difference when he was as powerless against fascism as the rest of us. He was only an anomaly because he was handsome and smart and principled, unlike Bush and Troll-face. I believe he grew up in a family that resembled mine in many ways, and created a similar one as an adult.
Just as I did with my first wife.
Enough about me. Look at YOU now. Let's review your sordid soul. Did you vote for Trump? Like me (and Rudy!), you'll be moved out of your house and broken when this is all over. See you in bankruptcy court. Moral and financial. It's the same bank that forecloses your assets in the end.
Yet half of us think the rest of the world prefers us to their home country.
So, as a nation, we are dumber and fatter than any country on the planet. And sicker since most of us have limited health care, if any.
Trump isn't a unique American asshole. He is a product of our utterly failed society. Just because we can't see it doesn't mean the rest of the world isn't either terrified or laughing at us. Or both.
I grew up in a family in upstate NY built on complete trust. A friend who knew my parents says that in some ways I came of age in a fantasy bubble. I pushed the Pavlovian lever and immediately got the treat of positive attention, affirmation and love.
When I left home, for Maine, Wyoming, New York City I built structures that responded to my respect, love and kindness, often in large and beautiful ways. I started adult soccer leagues that had dozens of teams. I built business with hundreds of employees and had gorgeous business partners without a single legal problem, ever. I had a smart, generous radical feminist first wife and lots of strong men and women in my social circle. I had an alcoholic marathon training partner who broke 3 hours in Boston and despite her addiction never once missed a workout date with me. For over 10 years!
Trust. Respect. Certainty, like my family, that I was loved.
Then I invited Mina into my home. Clinton was president. And so ended the fantasy. Our first meal together was based on her lies—she did not disclose that she was married and she claimed to have a broken relationship with her own family. She described being an outcast in high school. If my fantasy was overly positive, I met my yin and yang opposite that evening. She was the product of abuse, working for global human rights and the rule of law.
I could say that my life, my new green-carded wife, and my country began the final death spiral during that dinner on West 85th and Columbus Avenue. Il Nostro. The end of the road.
I left the fantasy bubble (though I fought to sustain the construct, despite the cost to me, until I collapsed into trauma, PTSD, and depression). Instead of trust and respect both my country and my two person family descended into pass-the-blame gaslighting.
I had two cats when I met my 2nd wife. Both knew we were fucked. One died of kitty leukemia in three months. The second bolted at a gas station the first time she had the chance, and ran for her life into an unknown neighborhood, never to be seen again.
Look at me now. Look at Trump and his brand of sneering cynical mobster hatred. The fat child unable to find what I had in over abundance. Look at the people he hires and how he abuses them. They will all look just like Rudy Giuliani within a year (it scares me that JD Vance is already showing signs of the same pleading desperation that bankrupted Rudy—keep an eye on his appearance now before he fades from consciousness alone and bankrupt.)
And look at me now. I'm 70. I'm Rudy too. I didn't set boundaries, I worked for my final family without praise or payment. My wife laughed at me behind my back. I lied to myself and said I had an exceptional marriage while my parents both died and my brother descended into bi-polar hell. I found new cats that survived by shape shifting, as many cats do.
I believed that Obama made a difference when he was as powerless against fascism as the rest of us. He was only an anomaly because he was handsome and smart and principled, unlike Bush and Troll-face. I believe he grew up in a family that resembled mine in many ways, and created a similar one as an adult.
Just as I did with my first wife.
Enough about me. Look at YOU now. Let's review your sordid soul. Did you vote for Trump? Like me (and Rudy!), you'll be moved out of your house and broken when this is all over. See you in bankruptcy court. Moral and financial. It's the same bank that forecloses your assets in the end.
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