I See Them Not

By David Glenn Cox

It happened again the other day. Another crack in the matrix. Another sign that all is not well while they try to tell us everything is great! It’s like that song, “From the mountains to the prairies to the” You know the one. From ruby red Nebraska to the shores of New Jersey to Wisconsin. Republican congressmen and senators holding town halls are being blistered and barbequed by overflow crowds with clenched fists and blood in their eyes.

Age is nothing to be proud of really and it takes no skill to get there. All you really have is a frame of reference. I grew up during the civil rights movement and later Vietnam. This is different! In those oft remembered days of flower power and police beatings, there was anger. But not like this! I remember a local minister shouted down from his pulpit after advocating a pro-war stance. He was shouted down, but they didn’t fire him.

I was one of those nerdy people watching the Watergate hearings as life went by. It was a spectacle; the government being put on trial by the government. Nothing like it had happened in a hundred years. A lot of people of the status quo crowd mainly. Didn’t really care at first about Watergate. What shocked the people was Nixon’s use of course grammar and sailor talk. People really thought the president said, “Gosh!” or “Gee Willikers!”

It started slowly and eventually built to a crescendo of “I think you’d better go.” We’re all so very disappointed in you. People were angry and upset, but they weren’t calling for Nixon’s head on a pike. It was more, “don’t say anything else, just go now.” Nixon smiled and waved from the helicopter door, but he wasn’t fooling anyone.

Two more Republican town halls. Two more flamethrower overflow crowds. Angry, really fucking angry. Red faced, screaming angry. Not the activists, mom and pop. Angry like Che Guevara angry, like I’ve never seen people before in this country. “From the mountains to the prairies.” I saw a room filled with angry, despondent farmers in Arkansas facing ruin at the hands of a bumbling king. More of the same in New Jersey and Wisconsin. Safe Republican districts filled with angry mobs. Not just here or some out of the way district over there. This is everywhere, this is nationwide!

And the media tells you, everything is fine! Everybody is happy and having a good time. So, they’re telling me and you. Republican town halls jammed full to the rafters of near riotous angry screaming people like I’ve never seen before. But the president’s popularity stands at 41%. It’s so laughable it’s sickening. Trump couldn’t poll 41% approval in the locker room at Mar a Lago. The media are trying awfully hard to mislead.

NBC focused on the 57% disapproval number. Boo! Hiss! But the disapproval number doesn’t really matter. They can say, X number of people disapprove. Everyone you know disapproves, so that number matches your consciousness, that’s believable. But 41% approval does not jibe with your consciousness or experiences and is not credible. Where are these mythical approvers of mayhem, fascism and the destruction of Democratic norms and concentration camps? Where are they? I see them not.

I suspect the president’s actual poll numbers are unpublishable. Too dark for the faint of heart. Epstein remains a millstone around the king’s neck. Epstein will haunt him forever now. It’s like running from the cops. If you don’t lose them in the first minute, you never will. It’s kryptonite for orange supermen. He promised his base he would release the Epstein files, and he didn’t. The alarm clock goes off and people start to wake up. A good con man never unpacks because you never know when that can suddenly occur. It’s not just you or me. This is his base turning on him we’re talking about. They’re pissed off too!

You could call it buyer’s remorse, but it’s worse than that. You don’t hate the speed boat you bought. You just hate that you bought it. And it’s building in pressure like a volcano! We’re at 1968 temperatures already. Heading into an off year buzzsaw of an angry electorate.

And they are their own worst enemies. The inflationary effect of the tariffs on the stagnant economy is obvious. How are you going to get reelected like that? (It’s the economy stupid!) Of all the king’s unpopular acts, placing soldiers in American streets is the most unpopular. Are they too dense to understand they’re killing themselves, or too driven? They have to know? They count heads at those meetings and record the number of voters removed by the cops. They have to know by now. This isn’t a fluke or a voter hiccup. This is a full-fledged voter storm on the horizon.

The media are going to have to work like Lucy in the candy factory trying to keep up. Trying to disguise the anger of the American people at the Trump regime. The most unpopular regime ever, in all of recorded human history with a 41% approval rating. Angry town halls going off the rails,  “From the mountains to the prairies.” But oh, they still love the king! In a pig’s eye, they still love him! They’re scared of him. Afraid of what he might try to do next. He calls out his daily threat to the public. “I’m going to do away with mail-in ballots!” Said only for shock value only and to frighten the public.

A foreign policy which would require a major overhaul just to bring it up to a shambles standards. A domestic policy of drifting and firing people. An economy stagnant in fear of what the king might do next. A media giving you comforting messages of everything is alright. The king has 41% approval! That’s a special number 41. That’s why they chose it. 41% is far from a majority, but it is a substantial minority block that must be heard. Even 46% is too unbelievable.

41% is better than 40%. It means he’s solidly in the forties! 39% would be no good at all. That’s barely hanging on. No, sir. 41% was chosen after a great deal of work and deliberation. A number large enough to be substantial, yet small enough to be believable.

“Power is in tearing human minds to pieces and putting them together again in new shapes of your own choosing.” ― George Orwell

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