There’s 7 New People Born

Into this world came this song. It certainly wasn’t on the radio, but I had bought the album – my second Dylan album – and listened to it, late at night, in the living room, on the hi-fi console, with my headphones on, in stereo.

When I first heard it, it was just “the next track” on the album. But halfway through, I stopped and moved the needle back to the beginning. I listened. Then played it again. And again. And again.

I learned, in 5 minutes, about poverty. Farming. South Dakota. Pain. Helplessness. Desperation. Terror. Loss.

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I Don’t Hate Trump

Everybody on one side says everybody on the other side hates Donald Trump.

No, I don’t hate him.

To be most charitable, I don’t care about him enough to hate him. I know other people who are crude or selfish or conceited or overbearing or loud or crass or ignorant. I’ve responded by ignoring them.

No, I don’t hate Trump. But I do hate – wait, let me think… yes, I do hate what he has been doing.

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President “Not My Fault” (Sad!)

As if on cue, a defender of the White House rushed to respond…. Yes, Benghazi. Still. Clearly, and unsurprisingly, this passionate defender missed my point (and, by doing so, reinforced my point).

Nothing that is going on now is about President Obama or Secretary Clinton. What is going on now, and in the future, is about Trump – no one else is making the decision about what we do next.

Yet he could not resist. He cannot speak unless he is attacking someone – he must always attack, always denigrate, always demean, and always cast himself as a victim of that other person’s failings.

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