My name is America, and I am in an abusive relationship. My children make demands on me to which I do not have the ability to comply. It’s not in my constitution.
No, I have not succumbed to the stresses of age. I am only 242 years old. By the longevity achieved by many of my now estranged brothers and sisters, I am still barely grown. Yes, I have skills and abilities to bring others together, and have taught my siblings much about spirit and determination, but, alas, I now find my hands tied by my controlling children.
Those who I love and to whom I give life lessons in strength through cooperation, who understand the value in playing well with others, who care about me as a light for their world, are being dominated by those who want me to work only for them, to use me, control my abilities so make them – and only them – great.
It has come to the point that I cannot trust them.
I cannot trust them to vote for their best interests, including, and especially, to recognize that the struggles of some likely affected their own ancestors, and may again visit their descendants. Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness are self-evident truths that apply to all. They cannot be tightly guarded by some as a special privilege, while they are denied to others.
I cannot trust those in Congress to work for the voters’ best interests, including, and especially, to be a check on the Executive. Without that check, I am out of balance, on the floor, a shadow of my former self, usurped by those who would wrap themselves in my robes and say they are me, and through this sham claim their greatness
I cannot trust the Executive to work for anyone’s interests other than his own self-aggrandizing pursuits, including, and especially, favoring his similarly autocratic, greedy and heavy-handed cousins over established alliances with more loyal, trustworthy and supportive family. At every turn, he insults me. He wounds me. He berates me. He saps my true strength of striving for unity and transforms it into gross showmanship.
His goal seems to be to keep me in a cage, while he and his most caustic cousins rule the world as if it belongs only to them. Perhaps he wishes to subsume them, as well. But despite his bravado, make no mistake – he does it to enhance his own greatness, not mine, not that of my people.
That may be his long game. It is like he is on his friend, Mark Burnett’s, landmark show, “Survivor,” playing alliances against each other until he emerges victorious. As long as the trail is riddled with the bodies of those who tried to stand up to him and failed – losers, he calls them, like Merkel, Macron and Trudeau – he will see himself as winning, and he is. So much winning.
If he continues to win, all of who I am for you, my children, is lost. I begin with you, my people. I am not America without you. Help me.
Yours,
America
