Let me get this straight. The schoolyard bully wants to head the PTA? That swindler who ran the fraudulent school? The vulgarian, the smug thug with the forked tongue is asking to run the Department of Justice? The plagiarist-in chief, violator of the 1st amendment, congenital liar is going to make the world safe?
D.T. thinks he is Dick Tracy. Donald Harumpf wants to be Clint Eastwood, the new sheriff in town. The guy who leads the posse to the hangman tree wants that shiny badge. He wants a shoot-out in the O.K. Corral.
I remember lawn oughta.
Like everyone else I had one of those green rectangles in front of our tract home. All the hours spent trimming, edging, pulling, mowing to keep it geometric, to keep dichondra from that old devil grass. God forbid a dandelion, that yellow menace, might overthrow suburbia and cause us to run for our lives. Weeds need love too. Even if they upset the order.
Disorder is the natural state of life. The world doesn’t hold still for a minute. Might as well rejoice over the muddle and the flux. The English cottage garden has that wild, meandering look with curved paths leading nowhere and perennials crowding together the way people of color and no color have learned to share the same sun and shade. What is seen as chaos may be another form of order as yet undeciphered and unrecognized. It remains for us to find a way to align ourselves.
What I’m hearing from Cleve-land is a yearning for the illusion of a colorless population where everyone knows his/her place and behaves. Keep off the grass. Keep quiet. Keep out. May the good Lord bless and keep you. You, not you. Walls, no weeds.
Garcia-Marquez regarded the imposition of order as a pretense invented to hide the disorder of his nature. The artist needs to push the margins into irregular shapes, to risk and to fail. And we need the artists, not only those gifted ones but the artist we all are.
The candidate with the Mussolini chin wants, above all, to have the trains run on time. We tried that and the price was too high. Martin Amis in his novel Time's Arrow reminds us that Hitler was elected in 1933 to restore order in Germany which he did by building an Autobahn to their reptilian brain.