The Life in My Years

January 11, 2025
Expectancy, anger, frustration, disgust and resignation.

When it comes to life in Donald J. Trump’s America, it’s my almost daily cycle of emotions. A loop that ends in a spin of hopelessness.

It was one of those days yesterday as Trump, convicted of falsifying business records in the Stormy Daniels hush money payoff scheme, received his sentence. Legal speak for the sentence he received is, “unconditional discharge.” In common everyday parlance, the sentence is, well, nothing. Nothing at all, carry on, nothing to see here, go along on your angry way Mr. Trump.

It wasn’t the sentencing hearing one often sees, in which the convicted stands before the judge and, with a downturned face, teary eyes and a look of remorse, apologizes, promises to do better in the future, and begs for the court’s mercy.

No, this time it was the over worn MAGA theater as the convicted felon appeared virtually and went on another, oh woe is me, I was treated unfairly by a rigged system, tirade. It included some of the usual Trumpian boilerplate: “political witch hunt,” “I’m totally innocent. I did nothing wrong,” “weaponization of government,” “lawfare,””I was treated very, very unfairly.”

In the sentencing, Judge Juan Merchan issued a stern rebuke to Trump and concluded with his wish of “Godspeed as you assume your second term in office.”

Fini!

When the first act opened with a bang on March 30th, 2023 with a grand jury indictment – I still have copies of the newspapers – there was plenty of expectancy. Nearly 22 months later the cycle was made complete; anger, frustration, disgust and resignation as the final curtain came down with a whimper.

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Do I blame Judge Merchan for this wretched injustice ? Not at all. In the end it was, to use an archaic term, a Hobson’s choice, which Webster defines as, “the necessity of accepting one of two or more equally objectionable alternatives.”

Throw some unfortunate, luckless woman in the can for soliciting and who cares. Lock up a former president and current president elect, a man with a rabid and violent cult following, for falsifying business records in order to tamper with an election, and who knows how severe the ensuing consequences and turmoil might be. Nothing for it but let him off the hook.

Yeah, I know, it’s not right – and it’s not just.

It just is.

I can’t blame Judge Merchan if he took into consideration the hell fury of MAGA rage and all that comes with it. There’s been nearly two years of doxing, threats, and obscene emails that have been loosed on the judge, the prosecution, their families and other members of the court. And that rage hasn’t just come from bored, incel, keyboard louts. Sitting members of Congress and other highly placed Trump sycophants appeared at the courtroom and in the media on various occasions in order to denounce the proceedings. One can only imagine the hurricane of threats, billingsgate and actual violence had Trump been sentenced to even an hour of jail time.

Did I expect Trump would see the inside of a jail cell? While it was my fervent, oh God please let it happen, wish, I knew the chance of prison time for Trump was about the same as a puff of wind blowing the winning, billion dollar Powerball ticket into my coat pocket.

But couldn’t there have been something? After all of it? After the dollars spent, the drama, and all of the lives upset, couldn’t there have been something?

A fine? A half day of wearing an orange vest and picking up litter in Central Park? A shift in a soup kitchen? A day of filing at a battered women’s shelter? Something? Anything that would, if only for a fraction of his indulged, wealthy, privileged (and unbelievably lucky) life, deliver to Trump a taste of the common man’s bitter world?

Nope.

Some are finding solace in the fact that Trump is bearing the shame of being the only president to have been convicted of a felony. Can a man who has no shame, who never shows remorse or contrition, really feel shame?

I suppose that in his private thoughts the conviction might burn in his gut. But not enough that a dose of Prilosec won’t cure.

And so for me, the conviction and “unconditional discharge” leave me with not a speck of consolation. Just anger, frustration, disgust and resignation. Expectancy? That’s long past its sell-by date.

How many times have I fist pounded the dinner table and asked my wife and dog, “Isn’t that man going to pay for anything?” My wife shakes her head in anger, frustration, disgust and resignation. The dog looks on and hopes for a morsel. At least she has hope.

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Following the sentencing, which was the last official act that confirmed Trump as a convicted felon, the memes and posts popped up on social media listing all of the countries that don’t allow a convicted felon to enter their borders. In bold, black script one post proclaimed, “As a felon Donald Trump can no longer travel to 38 countries.”

Is this supposed to be consolation? Stop. Just stop – because it’s just foolish. Rules have exceptions and as we’ve been learning for nine years, Donald Trump is often, too often, the undeserving beneficiary of exceptions. No less than the Supreme Court of the United States of America rubber stamped those exceptions. Sure Cuba will, to its credit, make Trump persona non grata, but most of the remaining 37 will roll out the red carpet and make him the guest of honor at a state dinner.

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In a related matter, I took another tumble through the cycle when I learned that Attorney-General Merrick Garland is suspending the release of special counsel Jack Smith’s report on Donald Trump’s classified documents case, pending the conclusion of the cases against co-defendants Walt Nauta and Carlos De Oliveira.

What?

In nine days, Garland ceases to be Attorney-General and then that report will be buried so deep it’s going to be torched by the magma of the Earth’s core. Incinerate the report. That’s the idea and Pam Bondi will see to that.

Another roll of the eyes, head buried in hands realization of Merrick Garland’s ineptitude.

The hope is that someone who possesses both a measure of testicular fortitude, and access to the report, along with recently minted presidential immunity (wink, nod) will, in a gesture to justice and the future generations of history, release the report anyway. Paging President Biden.

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In 1986, William L. Shirer’s, “The Nightmare Years 1930 – 1940,” was published. Shirer, an American correspondent, best known for his book “The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich,” wrote a memoir of his time in pre-World War II Europe. It was a dangerous, unsettled time not just in Europe but around the world.

With the reelection of Donald Trump to the presidency, I feel that the coming four years (or more) may be the most volatile and dangerous in American and world history.

After reading Shirer’s memoir, I’m considering a new blog, a sort of personal journal of my own, a chronicle of the days that loom before us. It would be a site separate from this one (which may put the future of this site in doubt). Not a simple rehash of the news, but my own personal thoughts and feelings.

At this point a new site to be named “47 – America’s Nightmare” is only in the consideration stage. To be quite honest I don’t know if I could stomach a daily (or semi-daily) dive into the MAGA swamp. For now “47 – America’s Nightmare” will be a series on this particular site.

Stay tuned.