Assassination? No, Here’s Something That Would Really Hurt
Okay, this was way too much. A Missouri state senator, Maria Chappelle-Nadal, briefly posted on her personal Facebook that she hated President Trump because of the “trauma and despair” the president is causing with his statements about the events in Charlottesville, Va., and–this is the kicker–“I hope Trump is assassinated!” She did not mean it literally, and she quickly deleted the post, but it was seen by enough people to make it onto a conservative radio talk show. Politicians from both parties have condemned the statement and demanded her resignation, and they are right, for four reasons.
- Murder is morally reprehensible, no matter who the victim. You don’t get a walk, past the courts or the Pearly Gates, because the man you murdered is an incompetent narcissist who is willing to blow up the country just to soothe his damaged ego.
- Assassination is a blow to our democratic process. Trump collected the majority of electoral votes, and under the constitution, that made him the president. No person has the right to disenfranchise the voters who elected him by illegally removing him from office. That must be done through legal means, assuming Congress grows a spine or the electorate lose their blinders.
- Words can kill; would-be assassins can be psyched up to do the deed if they get enough prompting. We are a nation awash in high-powered guns and ammunition, which anyone can get their hands on, thanks to the NRA. So we really need to tone down the rhetoric.
- Finally, assassination is too good for Trump. It would make him a martyr, put him in the same class as Abraham Lincoln–who really does not want the company. There is a much better punishment for Trump:
I hope he leaves office in disgrace so ignominious that even that his ego cannot construct an interpretation of events that spares him the shame. I want him to watch his crowds grow silent and walk away, shedding their red hats as they go, because they finally see him for what he is. I want him to bluster in impotent rage as he sees the historians’ ranking of his presidency, giving him James Bucchanan’s place at the bottom.
I want him to be lonely in his vulgar gold penthouse because Melania finally decides that no amount of money is worth having to listen every night to his rants about the “fake media,” and because all the hangers-on will drop away when they see there’s nothing worth hanging on to.
I am tempted to wish him a slew of bankruptcies to add to his already impressive list, but that is too cruel–to the employees who would lose jobs and the creditors who would lose payment for their hard work.
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