The Pot, Calling the Kettle Black

OUR CONSERVATIVE AMERICAN colleagues are so self absorbed that as they gaze admiringly into their mirrors, thinking they see someone else, and they talk about themselves, while imagining they talk about others. One of my best right wing buddies expressed the greatest shock and righteous outrage when Bill Clinton had the unmitigated temerity to stroll across a major metropolitan tarmac to great the Attorney general. Then, when I calmly questioned whether an intelligent person would conspire to engage in criminal conduct in broad daylight in the presence of ubiquitous smart phones, my indignant good ole boy buddy accused me of "faux rage", in feigned French, no less. He then called me "hilariously condescending" when I had the unmitigated audacity to suggest that Clinton and Obama are smarter than Bush the first and second. As proof, he pointed to the Bush Ivy League pedigrees. Hilariously condescending, indeed. Into the populist fray helicopters Donald J. Trump, who between bouts of chasing Mexicans across the border and stonewalling votaries of the Islamic faith, accuses Hillary of bigotry by virtue of her advocacy of federal assistance for African-American children. If The Donald could ever catch up with his ever changing campaign staff long enough to catch a quick glimpse into its ideological make up, even he might notice that it is well stocked with folks who fear the loss of something called "white identity", with the distinct aroma of John Birch klanishness, that traditional cradle of American conservatism, past and present.. If my right leaning friend could pull himself away from his highly reflective computer screen for a moment, he might catch a quick peek at his own anti-progressive rage, clearly visible, if occasionally obscured by the faux reasoning of his dying right wing extremism.