Folks, I hate to keep pointing you to new places, but the arrangements here on Teletype didn't work out, so I direct those of you willing to meet me over there to the new location of NOT Writing About Writing. You'll find it easy (and many will find it familiar) to subscribe.
Perhaps one of the oddest sensations is feeling my brain "come back online," and learning how predictable that really is.
In the 16th century when Copernicus proposed a heliocentric model, it explained everything. (Well okay, not everything. It took Kepler to see that the orbits were elliptical rather than perfect circles, and we've been tweaking it ever since, but MOSTLY for this story, it explained everything.) This was generally unacceptable to the Catholic church. Christ being born on Earth, that was clearly the center of the universe.
You know those gravity houses? The kind that tip you one way and your mind technically knows what's going on, but you also sort of adjust to it despite yourself. So even though you know why it is working that way, your brain still tricks you and you kind of freak out when it looks like shit is falling up or rolling uphill.
About 30 percent of the country (almost all white) will never admit that Trump is racist. They never ever will. We should divest ourselves of whatever fantasies we might have that some day Trump will do something SO outrageous that they will finally realize it. It is in their interest not to see his racism, and so they will not. Not ever. These people lost the ability to control the narrative that racism is okay (about forty years ago), and so they embraced the secondary ability to smirk and say, "That's not *really* racism." At least until they can embolden white nationalism enough to come right out and say it as they could before––something they are dying to do.