Assuming that we survive the evil Stephen King clowns of the Trump administration, I assume we can look forward to a Bourbon Restoration of the Democrats next time round. The prospect is distinctly unappealing, though of course one will be glad to have heard the last of Trump.
One does rather wonder whom the dems will anoint as their Louis XVIII. Will Hillary try again, and condescend to visit Michigan this time? Stranger things have happened. (Two words: Richard Nixon.) Or will Bill come back? Chelsea, I suppose, is still too young, and constitutional amendments take a while. Perhaps they’ll pickle Bernie in brine and run him.
But really, who cares? Whoever it is, we know what to expect. Neoliberalism, militarism, Zionism — the usual blue plate special.
What I’m looking ahead to — with a sinking heart — is the effect on my liberal friends. I feel sure they will have learned absolutely the wrong lesson from the debacle of 2016. They will be more convinced than ever that they were completely right last year, and that events proved it.
Of course any rational person can see that events proved them desperately wrong. But cathexis is difficult to withdraw, as any disappointed lover knows.
So my guess is that they will double down. They will conclude, inter alia, that it’s more important than ever to whip the strays into the fold. Their scolding, verberative, finger-wagging tone will amp up to deafening levels. And they will hold Trump’s coppertoned flayed skin up in our faces to prove they were right all along, and we were bad, naughty children, and it’s all our fault.