This brings me to what’s now common practice on Twitter: name-calling when rage gets the best of us. When it comes from the other side, I don’t care. I expect it from them. But here’s where I move away from my progressive friends on Twitter:
Laughing at Trump’s orange hair and makeup dilutes the real issue. He’s a monster whose entire reign of terror culminated in a murderous insurrection against the United States of America. I seriously don’t give a shit about what he looks like on any given day.
Mitch McConnell as a turtle stops being funny when we know he’s been responsible for obstructing progress for more than 12 years, and, worse, has enabled and encouraged Trump as he tried to destroy our American way of life.
Does Ted Cruz look like Grandpa Munster? I guess… Is he total trash when it comes to responsible governing? You bet he is. It wouldn’t matter what he looked like. Cruz is Cruz.
Did Melania Trump pose nude and do porn shots when she was young? She did. It’s out there. But I’ve never understood why the pictures have a permanent shelf life, pulled out whenever she says or does something we don’t like. Those photos have nothing to do with her stint as First Lady. I’m no Melania fan and never will be but I block people who think it’s okay to put those pictures on my page. It’s not. It’s stupid kid stuff.
I’m tired of name-calling. It settles nothing and gets us nowhere. It’s a feel-good moment, nothing more. I don’t want to think less of my Twitter friends when they do it, but I can’t help it. I think back to when I was raising kids, refusing to allow name-calling from any one of them–nor from their friends in my presence. I can’t do that with my Twitter friends, but I can think it, and I can move away from them.
Am I too old for this? Maybe. I’d like to think I’m too good for this, and if I stay silent about name-calling I’m condoning it. I’m not going to stay silent any longer. Thank you, James Finn, for opening this door. It needed to happen.