Thirsty

A couple ahorisms have sprung to mind lately. First: "You can lead a horse to water but you can't make him drink" and then "You don't miss your water till you're well runs dry." These spurred by the hot dry weather I suppose. Leading horses describes my political project to date; I always believed that once liberals saw how dire the situation was, how "politics" is now a tragic farce, how liberal democratic capitalism is leading inexorably to catastrophe, that some might rethink their devotion to the status quo. Boy was I wrong. Turns out you can argue and debate till you are are blue in the face, because while they know perfectly well, they act as if they don't. Only collapse will change that, and even then I suspect fantasy will prove resilient. Wells running dry is pretty obvious, but it makes much the same point. It is one of the main themes in my novel, the ease of remaining oblivious in the face of the obvious. And then there is the tendency to double down; no one likes to be conned, but the real trauma is having to admit they were wrong, that they were conned. That opens doors we prefer remained closed. New polling shows Trump's base doubling down with their support and love and pure devotion. Much of this base is less educated, blue collar, and convinced America needs to be saved. To that end they are, in this time of inflation, financing Trump and Company's massive legal fees. Taken to the cleaners to pay for high-priced lawyers. This same working class is still hoping they find the "weapons of mass destruction" in Iraq. They also don't include climate change in their list of things threatening America. As I watch the smoke billowing up from the forest behind my house. Better drink while you still can, Mr. Horse.