Bob Schwartz

March 2, 2016

Unleashing the Dogs of Hate

Birmingham

You will be forgiven for mistakenly thinking that this post about Trump was written today. IT WAS WRITTEN AND PUBLISHED IN MARCH 2016, TWO-AND-A-HALF YEARS AGO. At the time, many public people—including responsible politicians of both parties and the media—treated Trump’s pathology as a joke or a temporary symptom that would quickly pass. They should have been shouting in protest and we should have been scared. Are we scared yet?

“Cry ‘Havoc!’, and let slip the dogs of war”
William Shakespeare, Julius Caesar, Act 3, Scene 1

This time it is the dogs of hate. Enabled and emboldened by Donald Trump. He is so arrogant and ignorant of history that he probably believes he can control them. That with one word from him they will attack. That with another word from him they will stop.

Of course, that isn’t how it works.

There has long been an undercurrent of hate and intolerance in this country, no different than anywhere else at any other time. It has its outcroppings in repressive laws and unembarrassed public behavior. We have taken measures as a majority to dull its practical effect and, hopefully, to change hearts and minds.

Donald Trump is the latest—but not the last—to try to harness that dark energy for his own ambition.

But that is always playing with fire or dynamite. Haters gonna hate. And when allowed or encouraged, haters gonna take that hate out on others. Others, for example, at political rallies. Others who they blame for whatever is wrong in the country or in their lives.

No one knows where this all goes. When the dogs of hate, under the banner of legitimate politics, have been set loose.

Leave a comment
March 2, 2016

Something is happening here but you don’t know what it is, do you, Mister Jones?

Ballad of a Thin Man

When I look at the current political scene, or listen to analysis and prognostication by dozens of clueless paid or partisan political “experts”, I keep hearing a song from Bob Dylan.

Poetic word salad? Sure. Fitting message? Absolutely.

Ballad Of A Thin Man

You walk into the room
With your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked
And you say, “Who is that man?”
You try so hard
But you don’t understand
Just what you’ll say
When you get home

Because something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You raise up your head
And you ask, “Is this where it is?”
And somebody points to you and says
“It’s his”
And you say, “What’s mine?”
And somebody else says, “Where what is?”
And you say, “Oh my God
Am I here all alone?”

Because something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You hand in your ticket
And you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you
When he hears you speak
And says, “How does it feel
To be such a freak?”
And you say, “Impossible”
As he hands you a bone

Because something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

You have many contacts
Among the lumberjacks
To get you facts
When someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway they already expect you
To just give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations

You’ve been with the professors
And they’ve all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have
Discussed lepers and crooks

You’ve been through all of
F. Scott Fitzgerald’s books
You’re very well read
It’s well known

Because something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you
And then he kneels
He crosses himself
And then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice
He asks you how it feels
And he says, “Here is your throat back
Thanks for the loan”

Because something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

Now you see this one-eyed midget
Shouting the word “NOW”
And you say, “For what reason?”
And he says, “How?”
And you say, “What does this mean?”
And he screams back, “You’re a cow
Give me some milk
Or else go home”

Because something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

Well, you walk into the room
Like a camel and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket
And your nose on the ground
There ought to be a law
Against you comin’ around
You should be made
To wear earphones

Because something is happening here
But you don’t know what it is
Do you, Mister Jones?

2 Comments