I attend a Black Baptist church regularly. To write about Blacks makes me feel weird, because I probably would be asked to leave my beloved church if anyone ever read my thoughts here posted. But the Blacks don’t read blogs anymore than the Whites do. So nothing to fear.

The Blacks will vote for Kamala. It’s like a “thing” for them. I don’t really believe it is intentional, or even thought through and reasoned. I guess I mean that for them it is instinctive. Sure, Kamala is “half”, whatever that means. And, sure, Obama just did his thing, and he is “half”, whatever that means. But that’s not the reason I know they will vote for her. They don’t have “reasoning” in the classic sense. They have instinct. They need to feel united and so will vote in the way that makes them confident that each Black person they see knows they are in the same boat, even if it happens to be sinking. “Together!”

We have seen this since Black lunch tables. I am not suggesting something new. I am just writing it out. For fun.

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I am constantly courted by conspiracy theorists, White and Black. I don’t know why. It doesn’t seem like the proportions are right. I am just a dad working a job and yet I can’t seem to shake, after the weather talk, discovering that some possible new friend believes some really ridiculous shtuff about how humans do “society”.

And they never have any evidence. Zero evidence.

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The Democrats are scrambling. Don’t be fooled into thinking they are simply implementing some perfect plan—they aren’t. It doesn’t even make sense to hate them so much while you secretly believe they are better at life than you. Unless you’re just plain envious. Which would be weird. Cuz they’re paving the road to Hell, as you and I know.

****

Trump is something else. I am reminded of the time when it hit me that four men—myself, my attorney, my ex-wife’s attorney, and a mediator—had jumped, for one short afternoon, into the maelstrom whirlpool that is my ex-wife. One squalid woman somehow commandeered the attention of four men, to the total tune of about $750 per hour, plus whatever price you can put on my leisure time. As soon as the realization landed, I thought, “Fuck this.”

In the sour mood of Ike Clanton while losing to Doc Holiday, “That 12 hands in a row, Holiday, sonnuvaBitch, nobody’s that lucky,” I called it quits. What a waste of resources and time and life.

But Trump stirs the world pot.

Don’t be fooled into the idea that someone can explain it. It is inexplicable.