happy yet?

My name is Frank, and I’m a registered Democrat.

And I need support; we all do, if we you are part of the increasingly diminishing collective that’s still in this awful boat with me.

Because lately, identifying in any way as a Democrat is as much to my shame as anything. I have voted almost exclusively party-line my entire adult life, as I fundamentally align with the Democrats’ stated beliefs. I’m sure I will continue to do so, while I can, anyway, because, and I’ll be blunt: I actually care about other people.

I will even, no doubt, go door to door again this year, canvassing for the local Dems to get out voters that I believe, alas, will stay home regardless.

All of that said, and this is nothing new I haven’t said many times before: The Democratic Party has always been, and continues to be, its own worst enemy. It’s just that now, right now, in this terrible democracy-upending right now, this self-harm is equating to a slow and very public suicide. And while it doesn’t maybe also need to be said, then again, maybe it does:

Dead, kids, is fucking dead.

Instead of acknowledging that the increasingly large and noisy elephant in the room is standing atop them and crushing the very life right out of them, the Democratic “intelligentsia” quietly brays, in the face of opinion poll after opinion poll that says, “Gosh, I think I may actually be OK with a great, big bully of an elephant after all!,” that it’s still way too early to worry about this upcoming national election, or about the party’s broken ribs and nearly severed spine, and that the public will surely wake up and ask that dang elephant to move.

And it’s gonna move, all right. Right back into the White House. Where it will likely never leave again.