I thought about giving up today.

I try not to make this column about me, but this week I am going to indulge myself because I can, and because I know many people feel as hopeless as I do. We see the federal government collapsing, with unelected billionaires taking information that doesn’t belong to them, threatening career civil servants with unemployment unless they sign loyalty oaths to Trump, while Congress sits on its hands without even a protest vote. Not one Congressperson voted against Marco Rubio’s nomination–NOT ONE. And now, he’s threatening the Panamanian government, at the president’s behest. Meanwhile, the president is threatening our closest allies–Mexico and Canada–with tariffs, not because of anything they’ve done, but simply because he can.

Against all this chaos and impending destruction, what hope can an aging, unemployed, homeless writer have?

Even when Ronald Reagan and George W. Bush were in office, I had some hope of sanity returning, knowing that eventually the majority of Americans would tire of being told that 2 plus 2 equals 5, that there were government officials who understood that their duty was to the country–to the people–not to the occupier of 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue. But now that stability is being eroded daily by sociopathic men and women without conscience, who seek profit above service, who don’t care if people sicken and die because of their actions. Through the ballot, we have given these creatures control of our `government.

So, no. No column this week about Housing First or UBI or which cities are cleaning up their streets by bulldozing the homeless and their belongings. That’s going to continue no matter what anyone says because no one in power is interested in novel solutions, just the continuing insanity of doing the same old thing and expecting different results.

What’s to stop me from giving up?
Or anyone?

I’ll be brutally honest: if I had an ON/OFF switch, I’d have switched it to OFF already. If that upsets you, think of how reality is being turned upside down on a daily basis and how differently you might feel if you didn’t have food, clothing and shelter that you were paying for with your labor. If you think it’s enough to have these basics, then I invite you to live in a shelter for a month. I guarantee your morale and resolve will weaken, and you will find yourself prone to depression and illness.
Existence is not enough. Survival is not enough. Humans must have a stake in their lives and livelihoods. And that is being taken from us, piece by piece, by sociopaths and psychopaths who were elected despite numerous warnings.

There are only two things keeping me alive:
1) my love for Jennifer and wanting a place for us to live our lives together;
2) my desire to live in spite of Trump and his minions. I refuse to give him the satisfaction of seeing me lie down and die.

Now what?

We turn to the wisdom of the ages, in this case Bob Dylan:
“He not busy being born, is busy dying.”

Stagnation is not a lifestyle. It’s barely even a way of life. And for people with active minds and bodies, it’s anathema. So, yes, we must go on living–in spite of everything.

One thing this week did cheer me up: Adam Mockler calling for Elon Musk to be deported. For someone with as many online followers as Adam has, that takes guts–especially when you go up against the richest person in the world. In the days and weeks to come, we need more of this.

We need men and women of influence to call for an end to this current madness. We need to proclaim from every corner that the Emperor has no clothes, that just because you can do something doesn’t mean you should, and saying “No” to everything Trump wants is foursquare in the interest of preserving and restoring democracy.
Just say “No.” No to the dismantling of government agencies, especially those concerned with public health and welfare. No to all of his appointees. No appeasement. No compromise. Just a straight “No” vote down the line. We must do as Gunter Eich advised citizens in Fascist states to do:

“Be sand, not oil, in the machinery of the world.” Be Charlie Chaplin throwing a monkey wrench into the works. Be Peter Finch yelling, “I’m mad as Hell, and I’m not going to take it anymore!” It’s the only way we’ll save democracy. And ourselves.