A Choice Between Schmucks Isn’t Much of a Choice

gty_donald_trump_hillary_clinton_sk_150619_16x9_992So, we have a presidential election coming up, and I for one, am dreading the outcome.

Anyone with a television set or a Facebook account knows, we’ve got ourselves a real scummy, dirty, lowdown, hit-below-the-belt contest here. I myself set off a controversy on Facebook about Donald Trump yesterday and that sh*t storm is still raging strong even at this moment.

One thing I noticed right away from enraged commentators was the assumption that because I think Trump is a sexist wart on America’s ass, I’m naturally a Hillary supporter. Let’s be clear. I am not. To me, Hillary is the same kind of politician we’ve been stocking our government with for decades – deceitful, manipulative, and elitist-like. She’s got people telling her what our issues are, but while she knows it, she doesn’t understand it. The middle class is disappearing – that’s us, not her. And it shows her lack of understanding every time she attempts to make a connection with us, the voters. She’s parroting what she has heard; she’s never lived it though.

I haven’t even once been surprised that she has leaked damaging videos about her opponent, hidden emails from the public eye, and lied, lied, lied about anything and everything. To me, she’s politics as usual. For the record, I hate her politics.

I’m not genuinely surprised by Trump’s ability to have caught our attention, either. My opinion, for the little it’s worth, is that Donald Trump has some experiences in his life that make me think he speaks our language. By we, I mean the normal, middle to lower middle classes of America. He’s a shitty businessman, so he does actually know how it feels to have something repossessed. He has had to defend himself in court numerous times against people who want to take what belongs to him. He’s a card carrying pro-gun, pro meat eating, pro beautiful women, red blooded American man. He feels like one of us; not one of them.

What has surprised me is the vehemence of the Trump supporters. I’ve long been a people watcher, and one thing I do know. When you are determined to be loyal to someone who keeps f**king up, you end up getting angry, frustrated, and defensive when people keep pointing to some things you yourself don’t feel comfortable about. You make excuses, or try to give reasonable explanations for bad behavior. I know. I was married to a meth addict.

I like that Trump has been able to pinpoint some of our frustrations, but I don’t find his proposed solutions comforting. A lot of them don’t seem realistic, and some of them are downright alarming. I’m not saying that this guy is the devil. I’m saying I don’t think his world view is large enough to make good decisions.

What I don’t like is that somehow, we Americans are losing our ability to allow each other to disagree with each other civilly and gracefully. My very best friend here in Austin, Exodus, doesn’t agree with me politically, and it doesn’t matter to either of us at all. Audra and I don’t agree religiously, but we still love each other.

Humans rarely examine the pathways that led to an opinion in themselves, but I have. I found that our brains process so much intricate information in seconds. Over time, we accumulate information that enables us to form an opinion about something, and we usually just go with it. The truth is, we should be respectful with other people’s viewpoints, especially if we disagree. No one can learn anything from each other if defenses are up, information is not delivered politely, or an attitude is copped that says you are stupid because you don’t agree with me. We all have something to learn from one another.

We’re going to end up with a shitty president. That’s clear. Let’s not end up with less friends, less sharing of information, or less tolerance, too.

Lessons – by Bekkie


The best lesson my mother ever taught me was how to learn a lesson. When I would tell her a story, any story, good or bad, she’d say, “So, what did you learn?” And I would


First page of the Gospel of Mark, by Sargis Pi...
First page of the Gospel of Mark, by Sargis Pitsak, a Medieval Armenian scribe and miniaturist (Photo credit: Wikipedia)


try to figure out what I’d learned. This has been the most helpful lesson in my life. Even very bad situations offer some new piece of information. It’s comforting, to know some good came, even from the bad.


Watching my dad’s downward spiral has taught me many things. Addictive drugs are not to be played with. Our words affect other people, sometimes for a long time. Love does in fact hope all things, endure all things, bear all things.


Those lessons, and more every day. But there’s one in particular that I can’t get past. My dad’s a pretty good example of someone who is lost. He has something in him that is never satisfied. He sought, for years, to fill it with the world’s version of good things: a family, nice house, good job. When we moved away, he turned to other things, less acceptable things. Forbidden even. It’s almost as if he needed something stronger, more potent.


When you share the gospel with someone, there’s some compassion in your heart. You feel sorry for where they are in their lives, in their heart. You offer them Jesus, and hope they accept. But when I told my dad about Jesus, that he could bring peace, that he was the only solution, I didn’t feel just compassion. I felt almost desperate. I needed him to believe, to understand.


That’s when I learned about free will, the high cost of it. God loves my dad, loves everyone, far more than I do. This is what Jesus meant, love your enemies. He is merciful even to the evil and unkind. In the end, though, he won’t force anyone. I can’t force my dad.


He laughed me off. The gospel is foolishness to those who are dying, but to those who are being saved it is life everlasting. Please pray for my dad. I don’t want to get to heaven and not see him there. I don’t know if this is presumptuous, but please also pray to learn to love also. I think we could do more good if we felt that way about everyone, and not just the people in our immediate view. I’m praying for it, too. Thanks.


— Bekkie