John still can’t hear me.
I am like the girl trapped behind the plastic wrap screaming impotently into cyberspace.
John is still upset about the election.
He is tired, too. Weary. “I am feeling the cumulative weariness sustained from a small but fierce portion of the population (including far too much of its leadership) whose narrative about the world depends upon acrimony for so much of it.”
I’m not tired! Well, I’m a mom and a grandma, we’re always tired, but I mean my spirit is not weary, I am not weighed down by “haters.”
I’m not hateful either, nor full of acrimony. Acrimony means, “bitterness or ill feeling.”
It is always possible I am “small but fierce,” but that is not so scary. Unless you are wolverine or something.
John says he cannot talk to people like me because, “They are fully entrenched in their heavily fortified position of contempt and they are not budging.”
No contempt, John. I think we should hold hands and sing kumbaya. Seriously.
John says, “I will be a person of love here or I will die trying.”
Well John, try harder! Reach out! I am here, not hateful, not full of contempt, not bitter, not a hater, not someone who does not “respond to facts, data, honest questions, personal stories, heartfelt pleas, or civil discussion.”
Not a dung beetle either, but we won’t mention that.
Here, have a cat picture. Maybe it will make you feel better.