Your neighborhood fascist

“It should be awkward to NOT talk about politics these days,” a quote I read on my IG feed. And I agree! The situation in Minneapolis has gotten a lot of people talking and the word we hear a lot is facism. Hyperbole? I think not. Especially when the head of ICE looks like this:

While Greg Bovino’s style choices may be neither here nor there, it is interesting to see how the term fascist has become an increasingly accepted term to describe the second administration of Donald Trump. It wasn’t that people weren’t calling him that the first time around. They were. It’s just that everyone from MAGA hats to Marxists would dismiss those accusations as over exaggerated defamations from liberals holding sour grapes after the embarrassing defeat of Hillary Clinton. Which was also partially true. But, what no one wants to admit now, the “libs”, whom everyone has been trying to “own” the last ten years, were actually RIGHT. So a word of advice to the Left and center-left: if everyone can agree that Trump is a “fascist”, then someone owes someone an apology. Maybe Terence Ray is right; It’s time for truth and reconciliation between leftists and liberals.

But that’s not what I want to talk about. Firstly, I want to chagrin at my lack of credentials in discussing this topic. I ain’t a sociologist or political scientist (I am, however, a historian. And that’s a hill I’m willing to die on). For more qualified views, I recommend Hannah Arendt and Robert O. Paxton. The point I’m wanting to make is fascism is considered a flavor of authoritarianism, generally speaking, and Trumpism is a subflavor of fascism, or possibly a different subcategory of authoritarianism altogether. I suppose it’s the wannabe academic in me that wants to define our terms and not get things conflated. In sum, while there are notable similarities, Trumpism and fascism are fundamentally two different things (even if those distinctions are merely academic to the casual eye).

First let’s start with the differences. The historical differences are obvious. Strictly speaking, fascism was a heavily influential ideology in Europe from the 1920s on up to 1945. Key components were national renewal via purging the “Other” (for example, antisemitism), militarism, and the merging of corporate interests with state interests under the control of a despotic figure. Another interesting component was a social Darwinian promulgation of “the will”, or, in simpler terms: “might makes right”. While it’s easy to draw parallels between the fascism of Europe to Trumpism in 21st century America, the biggest difference to me is this: cynicism.

To be honest, I can’t speak much to Mussolini, but I think it’s safe to say that Hitler was very much a believer in the bullshit he spewed. While the Nazis attracted its share of hooligans and grifters, the leaders who fueled its engine: Hitler, Goebbels, Bormann, Himmler, etc were all true believers. No doubt, Trump has a few “true believers” in his cabinet, but if you put a gun to my head and asked me if I thought he held any genuine ideology in regards to the US or the conservative movement in which he hijacked, I’d tell you ‘no’. Every action the president has committed both times in office has been in service to his own enrichment and preservation. Therein lies the biggest distinction between Trumpism and fascism. Hitler and Goebbels committed suicide and went down with the ideology they proclaimed. Trump would never. While it’s obvious that Trump and his movement have disdain for large segments of the population, there’s a very American flavor to Trumpism that was perhaps absent in 1930s Germany and Italy—a flavor that could only appear in late stage capitalism: an unbridled passion for narcissistic self-interest.

Anywho, I’m tired of writing for today. Maybe I’ll pick this up later. I’ll let you know 👍

pennies for the dead (part vii)

“Just be warned,” Joe said to me, “Hell ain’t what you think it is.”

“How so?”

“You just have to see.”

Joe, Pete, and I gathered our divinely blessed weapons and proceeded to the cellar in the woods. Joe went into the portal first, then Pete. I hesitantly went in last.

I felt my body break down into its molecular and atomic parts while time and space melted down. Then reality reconstructed itself and the three of us were in a large theater.

On stage was a nude couple: one an elderly woman and the other an average-looking dude with an abnormally large dong. A horse was also on stage. It was a community theater production of Equus.

“Ah shit. Now I know what you mean,” I said.

We rushed out of the theater, side by side, weapons on ready. We were men on a mission, a mission to find…and kill…Jezebel. And more importantly, we had to stop the dead from invading the earthly realm.

Outside the theater, we hailed a cab. The driver stopped and we all piled into the back. “Does anyone want to sit up here with me?” the driver asked. “Son of a bitch,” I said then got in the front seat.

“Where to?” the cabbie asked. “Downtown” Joe replied.

The cab driver then blasted Jon and Vangelis from the radio and was humming along. I turned to the backseat.

“Hell seems more boring and mildly irritating,” I said, “much like Minneapolis.”

“Yeah, but imagine spending spending eternity here,” Joe replied.

He had a point.

The cap pulled up to a downtown bank. We all piled out of the car. “Are you sure that the Empress of Hell and all of Damnation is here?” I asked.

“Of course, with their ungodly interest rates, there’s nowhere else she could be!” Joe said.

So the three of us…a wizard, an idiot, and a guy with a shotgun…walked into the bank lobby. We went up to a loan officer.

“We’re here to see Jezebel,” I tell the man.

“Do you have an appointment?” he asks.

I cocked the shotgun and blasted a hole in his chest. “She’ll be with you shortly,” the loan officer replied.

Security guards rushed into the lobby and began firing indiscriminately. Pete became an absolute beast and started slicing away with his machete. Joe unleashed fire bolts from his staff. I unloaded shell after shell from my shotgun.

As we looked over the absolute slaughter of security guards, with blood and guts strewn about the lobby, Joe nodded his head. “I think our plan is working out pretty good,” he said.

“I’m out of shells,” I said and dropped the shotgun. Then I pulled out the .38 and kissed it. “But I still got six shots.”

We all went into the elevator and Joe hit the button for the 666th floor. “Holy shit!” I said. “How many floors are in this building?”

32 minutes later, we arrived. Jezebel was in a conference call with all of her minions. She was planning the final stages of her Hellish invasion of earth.

“What took you so long?” she asked.

“Your slow ass elevator,” Pete said.

“You think your earthly powers can stop me?”

I lifted the .38. “Nothing can stop these bullets sister.”

TO BE CONTINUED…