Wake Me Up When The Wingnut Nightmare Ends

Today is September 11.

It has been fifteen years since 2001. Since that clear-sky day that Tuesday turned so shockingly wrong.

And here we are, fifteen years later in the midst of an election cycle where one of the candidates - Trump - is an unabashed Islamophobe, eager to defame Muslims with accusations and lies that make it easier for his followers to attack innocent people on our streets.

Here we are fifteen years into a War on Terror where the crimes our own nation committed - a torture regime, unjustified invasion and occupation of Iraq that was based on lies - remain unanswered. Worse, the likes of Trump wants to bring that torture regime AND a re-occupation of Iraq (this time to blatantly take all the oil) back.

It has been fifteen years for my people, for our nation, for the United States sitting in the shadow of our own demons, driven into the shade by our fears and our rage. Kept there by a political faction among the Far Right who profits from keeping their fanbase fearful and mad. Any sane policy on keeping our nation safe gets ignored. Any hopeful expression of our nation's diversity and openness of culture gets mocked and insulted and beaten. Any attempt at justice - ending a prolonged and possibly illegal detention of prisoners at Gitmo, for starters - gets denied.

And the United States stumbles on, still bearing the scars of that Tuesday. We won't heal. There are those among us who can't.

And we're still stuck in a nightmare doomed to get worse if the biggest fear-monger of them all gets his orange-colored ass into the Oval Office.

This will not end well, if at all, in my lifetime, will it?