I’m at it again!My recent Letter to the Editor:
A difficult task
As a recovering New Yorker, I found a recent letter writer’s suggestion to have a “positive thought about Trump” difficult at best. The man was practicing unscrupulous business dealings as far back as the 1970s, with the simple objective to line his own pockets. Listing them all here would quickly exceed the 200-word limit, although I would like to point out that among other failed ventures, he lost his long-struggling Atlantic City casino in 2014. A casino! Who bankrupts their own casino? But let’s fast forward.
In 2018, the Trump administration fired the U.S. pandemic response team to cut costs.
Throughout February 2020 he continued to insist that COVID-19 was a “Democratic hoax,” leaving us ill-prepared for the crisis we now face.
He’s spread false rumors regarding vaccine availability, lashed out at reporters who ask for encouraging words for a frightened country, and claimed that he “knew about the virus a long time ago.”
Still in denial? These statements occurred live, in recent press briefings.
Enabling this kind of behavior is irresponsible and dangerous.
And yet, albeit somewhat indirect, there is one “positive thought” that comes to mind, reminiscent of a TV clown from my childhood: Bozo.
L.J. Zinkand
Medford
(April 3, 2020)
These, the weirdest times yet in my life, remind me of being swallowed by a giant breaker at Jones Beach as a child, tumbled for what seemed like an eternity, then spat out onto the shore, only to look up through scraggly strands of sand-laced hair and see people standing ankle-deep in the water, staring out at the sea, hardly noticing me because their attention is directed elsewhere.
I can’t seem to reconcile the image of a president who wears make-up with the leader of the free world. We find his wild lies and daily self-contradictions mind-blowing, and he looks like a pathetic clown. His supporters remain fully dug-in, as if under some kind of spell, unreachable by any apparent sense of logic or dignity. Staring out to sea.
“Oh well, civilizations come and go,” I tell myself. Maybe it’s time to hit the reset button on ours.
Need further proof?
A difficult task
As a recovering New Yorker, I found a recent letter writer’s suggestion to have a “positive thought about Trump” difficult at best. The man was practicing unscrupulous business dealings as far back as the 1970s, with the simple objective to line his own pockets. Listing them all here would quickly exceed the 200-word limit, although I would like to point out that among other failed ventures, he lost his long-struggling Atlantic City casino in 2014. A casino! Who bankrupts their own casino? But let’s fast forward.
In 2018, the Trump administration fired the U.S. pandemic response team to cut costs.
Throughout February 2020 he continued to insist that COVID-19 was a “Democratic hoax,” leaving us ill-prepared for the crisis we now face.
He’s spread false rumors regarding vaccine availability, lashed out at reporters who ask for encouraging words for a frightened country, and claimed that he “knew about the virus a long time ago.”
Still in denial? These statements occurred live, in recent press briefings.
Enabling this kind of behavior is irresponsible and dangerous.
And yet, albeit somewhat indirect, there is one “positive thought” that comes to mind, reminiscent of a TV clown from my childhood: Bozo.
L.J. Zinkand
Medford
(April 3, 2020)
These, the weirdest times yet in my life, remind me of being swallowed by a giant breaker at Jones Beach as a child, tumbled for what seemed like an eternity, then spat out onto the shore, only to look up through scraggly strands of sand-laced hair and see people standing ankle-deep in the water, staring out at the sea, hardly noticing me because their attention is directed elsewhere.
I can’t seem to reconcile the image of a president who wears make-up with the leader of the free world. We find his wild lies and daily self-contradictions mind-blowing, and he looks like a pathetic clown. His supporters remain fully dug-in, as if under some kind of spell, unreachable by any apparent sense of logic or dignity. Staring out to sea.
“Oh well, civilizations come and go,” I tell myself. Maybe it’s time to hit the reset button on ours.
Need further proof?
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