Time for some of my readers to understand my point of view more clearly.

I draw your attention to this comment from my post yesterday evening.

Wrong, wrong, wrong. I am a professional writer, and I choose my words carefully. It isn’t even a misinterpretation to conclude the above. It’s pure conjecture based upon supposition. I am not disappointed.

I considered carefully how on Earth someone could perceive my writing in such a manner, and the only guess I have is that I drew an historical parallel with the assassination attempt against Theodore Roosevelt in which his wounds were vastly more severe and yet the man, who was famously known as an incredibly tough man’s man, went on to complete his speech after telling the authorities to make sure his attacker wasn’t harmed. Total baller move. Even better than a fist pump.

I know my own heart, and I know how I feel when I write, and when I composed my observations last night, there wasn’t one iota of “I wish they killed him“, or “I wish he was hurt“, or anything else even remotely like that. Zero. None. If I had any feeling about it, it was sadness. Not glee.

I don’t remember ever taking joy in anyone’s death, even the likes of Osama bin Laden. In that case, yes, it was an appropriate outcome, but it’s not like my heart sang. And even those whom I rail against daily, like Jerome Powell and Janet Yellen, I wouldn’t want to see them even shoved out of anger. Violence is not in my nature. I have had lapses on occasion in how I’ve expressed my feelings, but at the core, I’m peaceful.

There are two instances in my life that I remember being exposed to an attempt on a President’s life: one of them fictional, the other real.

In the fictional one, I remember a scene in the movie JFK in which the news hits that Kennedy has been shot, and a man sitting in a dark bar begins clapping. Regardless of one’s politics, that is an inhuman and terrible reaction.

The real life one was in my high school. I was sitting in a history class, and an announcement came over the P.A. system that Reagan had been shot. As with the movie, a student in the room started slowly clapping, and that really bothered me for many reasons, not the least of which is that I was, and always have been, a fan of Mr. Reagan.

Incidentally, there’s an entire plotline in my novel about a political assassination attempt:

  1. which takes place outdoors;
  2. in front of a friendly crowd;
  3. in a politically discordant environment;
  4. with a lone shooter;
  5. who is motivated by wanting to impress someone;
  6. who injures, but does not kill, his target

Solid State sees the future once again!

Last night’s post was about a million-dollar wound, whose typical example is a bullet in the ass (which is also, by the way, much worse than an ear cut which in ten days will be completely imperceptible). There’s no doubt he was lucky. That’s irrefutable. To be shot at multiple times by a powerful weapon and be 99.9{3da602ca2e5ba97d747a870ebcce8c95d74f6ad8c291505a4dfd45401c18df38} uninjured is the very definition of luck.

Pointing this out does not mean the reporter wishes the victim had been hit in the head. It’s just a fact. It was very lucky.

But that luck takes on an entirely elevated plane which is only supercharges a political campaign in which things were already going smashingly. So…………luck. Not joy at injury. Not wishing harm on someone. Merely the declaration of undeniable good fortune.

Listen, since it seems so important, let me level with you: whoever wins the Presidency affects my life about as much as whoever the latest alderman is in a town in Pennsylvania. From a selfish perspective, I am a white male married heterosexual Christian in the suburbs with money. The poster child for the Republican party. In point of fact, my own political instincts probably line up far more with the contents of the assailed Project 2025 that you might imagine. Yet, as with many of you, I’m just not a big fan of the man carrying the binder. But I care way, way less than you might guess. It’s just another chapter in our country’s story.

You think I’m disappointed? You think I want him out of the race? Wrong, wrong, wrong. This is all part of the big cycle. This is all part of the Fourth Turning. He’s EXACTLY the right person for this play in which we’re all participating.

There’s no disappointment at all, and no joy at anyone’s pain or trauma. My perception is that this is all unfolding exactly the way it is supposed to.

Crystal

Crystal



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