I don’t know about “we.” I’m not voting out of ignorance or failing to do anything out of apathy. I’ve always done my civic duty of getting informed and voting my conscience, which is difficult in this election.
But I’d rather struggle with this moral dilemma, and I’d rather be honest with my self and everyone else about the complexities every country and every citizen of the world is facing today, rather than throw a temper-tantrum out of fear, rage, ignorance and hate, blaming everyone who is different from me for all of the world’s ills. But then again I’m not a Trump supporter.
Trump supporters deserve Trump. I wish there was a way we could just let them have him. Since this country is so divided, I feel like we should just get a divorce and go our separate ways.
All the Trump supporters should go off to Trumpland, with Trump leading the way in Jim Jones fashion. Next thing you know, they’re all drinking Trump kool-aid. Everyone tried to warn them, don’t drink that kool-aid. Micheal Moore even made a film about the dangers of imbibing Trump’s brand of kool-aid. It doesn’t matter. They are hell bent on guzzling that stuff down.
Trump may very well be the next president. The sad thing for his supporters is that they will be slaughtered under Trump. Trump is using these people like toilet paper. He has this campaign manager that has already put a price on their heads. What is the typical Trump supporter worth to Trump and co.? Six to eight dollars an interaction. I read this in a business article where Trump’s son-in-law, Ivanka’s husband, was bragging about how he has created all this software that allows Trump and co. to pimp his followers relentlessly. They don’t even hide the fact that they see these people as commodities. They don’t even hide the fact that they use the most basic psychology to manipulate these people, or any people, really. His supporters are nothing but food, for him and his ilk. They don’t see it. They are like the oysters blindly following the Walrus and the carpenter, in the poem Jabberwocky. Last stanza:
O oysters, said the Carpenter, you’ve had such a pleasant run.
Shall we be trotting home again?
But answer came there none —
And this was scarcely odd because,
they’d eaten everyone.
How can so many fall for like the most simple cons in the book?