The Nice Chameleon

People are acting really hateful today. I'm not seeing it on Facebook, but I've checked Twitter a few times ... and whew! I'm newly amazed at how utterly cruel we can become in our self-righteousness. There is another thing I'm seeing, too. The people who aren't being cruel are talking about how they would never be so cruel as to cheer for a leader getting COVID, who would never be so hateful as to wish a sitting U.S. President would suffer and die. I imagine they wouldn't, but I find that thinking that way ("I would NEVER do THAT ...") can be dangerous. Because I don't think we can think that way without some degree of pride in our own personal righteousness. I am reminded of the Solzhenitsyn's words in The Gulag Archipelago: The line separating good and evil passes not through states, nor between classes, nor between political parties either--but right through every human heart--and through all human hearts. This line shifts. Inside us, it os

I am coming out of my blog-cave today. I have had a LOT of thoughts lately on a LOT of things. I imagine all zero of my readers have as well, since there is much to think about. I haven't had much opportunity to write in my journal (which is where I usually deposit my thoughts, since it's the only thing patient enough to listen to them), so I'm writing them all down here. I am seeing more and more of this concept of, "You can't possibly know what it feels like to be ___." Usually it's directed toward a white person who can't possibly know what it is to be a POC, or oppressed, etc. Sometimes it's directed to a man who has no clue of what women go through day to day. Whenever I hear this, I think, "Do people not read or write anymore?" I mean, isn't that one of the purposes, or at least one of the benefits, of good literature--to take a person out of themselves, out of their small "real world," and into the world, thoughts, an