Review of Republican Tears - Vintage 1942.

There are moments when I feel perfectly comfortable taking the low road. Times when I can quite happily watch my foes fail as they reach for their goal, mere inches from their fingertips, only to stumble, and then fall. I feel no remorse as I stand over them, laughing, and drink their bitter and delicious tears.

Last night, I felt this way as I watched Mitch McConnell weep openly.

Schadenfreude, they call it.

Taking pleasure in someone else's misfortune.

As those salty morsels of satifaction oozed from his sad, sleepy eyes my mouth instantly filled with saliva. As enticing as beads of morning dew running down the skin of a ripe, green apple bathed in the day's first light and diminished not one iota by the crusty jowls down which they currently streamed. I was a man, fresh from the scorching desert, and Mitch McConnell's precious droplets of failure were my oasis.

The look on his dumb, droopy face when McCain gave his thumbs down, immediately making eye contact with the defeated dunce like a boss, was as delectable and decadent a treat as any state fair fare. It was fried iced cream. It was fried cheesecake. It was a funny funnel cake of fantastic fuckery.

Thank you, Mr. McCain.

But where do I go from here?

Will anything ever be as sweet?

Will I ever again be satisfied?

It's just the internet.

We meet lots of people in our lives. We pass each other on the street, shake hands at parties, speak briefly over the phone, and often never make an impact on each other. In the digital age this is even more true. A conversation on Facebook or Twitter likely will not lead to more than a couple of likes between us. At most, it could lead to a follow or a chat. Still, we move on with our lives and forget each other.

Sometimes, however, we click. We connect. You'll see something in the other person that makes you feel the need to remain connected. So you do. These interactions sometimes give birth to real friendships between people separated by huge distances; of miles, years, ideologies, class, ethnicity, upbringing, etc. People that may never have met before become fast friends as if they had known one another all along and are just picking up where they left off.

I have a few such friends. But tonight I have one less.

Christopher Banks, or @CmbSweden, isn't like me. On paper we might seem like two people that might never even speak, let alone become friends, but friends we were. 

Indeed, friends we are. 

In many ways, I considered him a mentor. Whether or not I agreed with him I could always see the wisdom in his words. He was always forthcoming with constructive criticism and always delivered it in a positive way to help instead of just to laud over you with his superior knowledge.

Yet, even with the wisdom of his years, he was always quick to listen to you about things that he lacked knowledge on. As an ally in the fight against white supremacy and for equality, he understood the importance of knowing what he didn't know. He never told me how to react to racism or how to fight against it. I remember him specifically asking ME, many years his junior, about the correct way to approach things related to racism. 

He was a great father to his daughter and his example is inspiring to me. I hope that my daughter and I have a relationship that is as strong and as loving as the one he cultivated with his. I'm going to miss him bragging about how amazing his daughter is, all the while claiming to have nothing to do with it and giving her all the credit for just being an amazing person.

We're all poorer for the loss of you. 

I'll never forget you. Rest in peace, brother.

May the road rise up to meet you.
May the wind always be at your back.
May the sun shine warm upon your face,
and rains fall soft upon your fields.
And until we meet again,
May God hold you in the palm of His hand.