As we drive to the clay pigeon shooting range yesterday, my Beloved MD remarked, “All I know is, there has never before been a president who had such an effect on my personal life!” He meant, that we can’t talk freely to strangers is one thing, but Trump’s election has divided our family (and, I’m afraid he also meant, pretty much commandeered his wife’s mind and emotions…)
That last is not true, really, and you, O Ratty, can verify that by perusing the variety of subjects I’ve posted about here. (You know how spouses are, always pickin’ on sump’n!) No, Trump is not the only thing I care about!
But he’s right: I care more, and devote more energy, to all things Trump than I ever have to any president in our lifetimes.
And the same seems to be true of people on the Left. I have been waiting to see how they’re going to somehow tie the incursions of the Coronavirus to Trump’s China policy. (I know this will happen; you heard it here first!)
It’s not that my BMD disagrees with me politically. We are on the same page, totally.
But here’s the thing: he resents, and is becoming impatient with, the fact that politics has now become so universally intrusive. He’s right; this is like the Dreyfus affair in France, when any gathering might erupt into a brawl, because everybody in La Belle France had an opinion to which il or elle was passionately committed. “The stone’s in the midst of all”, as Yeats wrote. Hic sunt dracones.
He’s flirting with the idea of voting for someone, anyone, more anodyne: some president who would just recede into the background noise of our lives, somebody no one really cares about very much. We hated B. Hussein, yes—when we thought about it, which wasn’t constantly.
I’m confident of his vote come November, despite these musings. But they made me wonder: is “Trump fatigue” a real thing? And could it be the deciding factor for a not-inconsiderable number of “independent “ voters on Election Day?