I listened to a news reel last night, white men complaining that they were sick of being blamed for the ills of the USA. It was their permission-structure for voting for authoritarian Big Daddy. “He gets us,” one man declared.
I didn’t realize that so many self-proclaimed rugged men, you know, real men (“I put my feelings in my back pocket…I don’t have feelings!”) could be so fragile, so sensitive. So in denial. If I rolled my eyes any harder they’d fall out of my head.
The woman almost spit bile on me. “You liked it!” she fumed. She was incredulous that I actually went to The Barbie Movie. Apparently The Barbie Movie poses a threat to the manly-men who sit atop the patriarchy and the good soldiers and wives all the way down the man-ladder. “Art is supposed to make people think,” I thought but did not say. She had no intention of thinking.
Thinking. It is in short supply, especially for those rough-and-tumble-guys who believe that he gets you. He’s getting you, alright. Your masked-hyper-sensitivity and emasculation-fear make you easy marks. He’ll get your vote in order to toss our democracy. Remember, everything is transactional for authoritarian Big Daddy. He’ll take what’s yours to get what he wants. He’ll tell you what you want to hear as long as you turn a blind eye to what he says, who he shames, who he hurts. No evidence required. No reality needed. He expects you to swallow each lie – hook, line, and sinker.
That’s real man stuff! Grit your teeth, beat your chest, and follow the lemmings who call themselves cowboys, an independent, a rogue. Rev-up the engine of your Silverado and fly the flag from the bed of your machine. Make a bold statement! Mimic the bully. Pretend that you are in full control of your feelings as you let your rage run roughshod over your brain.
Lie to yourself as you swallow the lies of your fascist-wanna-be. Yep. He gets you, this man who was born into privilege, calls our veterans suckers and losers, demeans and strips the rights from our daughters, mothers and wives.
Keep this in mind (if you can find your mind): He’s never been in a grocery store. He’s never lifted a shovel or had to worry about where the rent was coming from. His daddy bailed him out of his multiple bankruptcies – no sweat – just like your daddy tossed money at you when you were worrying about feeding your family. He rapes women (“It was only a civil trial!” you proclaim in his defense.) Just like you? He brags about it. You, too?
Also consider, he would not stoop so low as to drive his own truck – he has drivers. And chefs. And assistants. And sycophants.* Scores of them. Just like you. Telling him everything he wants to hear so he can tell you everything you want to hear. An authoritarian echo chamber. A fascist feedback loop.
He gets you, remember. And he is poised to get his hands around the throat of our democracy. He’s been honest about this one thing: he’ll strangle the constitution and toss the body of democracy into the dumpster, just so he – and you -can feel like a man. Hot dog! Top dog!
He’s got you.
(*Sycophant (noun): toady, flatterer, fawner, doormat, kowtower, leech, bootlicker…)
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The Direction of Intention 