Republicans

…..she is scared of the future.  Scared shitless of it.  Terrified of it.  And for that reason and that reason alone, she clings tenaciously to the past like it is some sort of all-encompassing security blanket embroidered with warm fuzzies.  Forget for a minute the past is gone forever and can never be reclaimed or relived or recycled.  Forget too that the past was rife with problems and injustices and inequities unique to its epoch, all now conveniently glossed over and buffed up for these pitiful patrons of antiquity by dint of their viewing it through a distorted, rose-colored lens.  Yet turning to the past for comfort and as a fount of solutions for the full array of today’s complex problems will never bring it back.  Ever. Not in anyone’s lifetime, including hers and mine and Donald Trump’s and the Man on the Moon’s.  The past is gone for good.  The past is as non-existent and impossible to access as toiling to faithfully re-assemble that breath of air molecules that you just expelled into the surrounding atmosphere; recovering the past as an intact entity is equally futile i.e. impossible.  Good thing too, because the past is a natural chameleon and devious as hell; it’s little different than a patch of well-camouflaged quicksand if one suffers the gross misfortune of falling into the heinous clutches of same.  The nefarious stuff never forgives, it never relents, nor does it ever release any of its unfortunate prisoners once it has seized control over them.  The past is an unapologetic impostor. The past is nothing more than a giant ruse structured to frustrate and torture imperfect mortals.  That being said, though, I can gladly point to one bright spot:  The past is every bit as extinct as the dinosaurs and the dodo bird and systemic female subjugation. One never has to worry about it because by definition time to our arrears can never return to haunt us other than in our nightly dreams, and those are of course no more real than a Donald Trump promise or the Minnesota Vikings one day winning the Super Bowl.   Still…..still…..still, amazingly, this fact didn’t matter to her one scintilla because—And this point you need to clearly understand since it speaks to the crux of the issue!—in her mind all those years and decades which have preceded the day we are presently experiencing maintain a familiarity—a sheen, a luster, an irresistible glossiness—that she so desperately craves during these  turbulent modern times.  Uncertainty—masquerading unashamedly in the mien of what lies lurking unbeknownst and adventitiously in the days to come—are what she absolutely loathes and, yes, fears more than any person or thing in the world.  And hence she invariably turns to the past whenever she feels her pulse quickening and her blood pressure skyrocketing and her spirits drooping, because that is simply her natural reaction; the past is the only timeframe she feels genuinely comfortable inhabiting.  Tragically, the passage of time,  employing cold hard logic, and utilizing gentle, comforting words targeted in her direction will never change this unmalleable facet of her persona.  She is a helpless creature hopelessly beholden to another era.  What more can I say?  To borrow an inane, nonsensical, way-overused bromide for lack of a better explanation:  It is what it is…..