So it turns out I was wrong about Trump. He didn’t try to seize the military and keep the presidency. He didn’t plunge us into civil war. Instead, he spent his last night pardoning a bunch of his political cronies. On inauguration morning, he got on his plane at Andrews AFB and made his way home. They had music accompanying him as he was boarded: “YMCA,” by the Village People. “Tiny Dancer,” by Elton John. And the final phrase of Sinatra’s “I Did it MY Way,” as the plane lifted up into the skies to make its way to Miralago. Those songs alone should be good for a Stephen Colbert monologue.
The QAnons are despondent. Their conspiracy theories didn’t pan out and for the moment they have to face the fact that they live in this world with a new President who is cleaning up the messes of the last guy.
I hate to admit that I had something in common with QAnon. I thought something bad was going to happen, too—I just wasn’t fervently hoping for it. It takes me back to the days of my childhood when I scoffed at religious neighbors who swore the end of the world would be coming on a designated day, but deep down I feared they might be right.
To tell the truth, I feel a little sorry for the QAnon. Hear me out:
As his plane took to the skies, a friend started celebrating a little prematurely, I thought. I said he was still President and I would not breathe easy until noon when Biden took the oath. She told me that we all have battered wife syndrome. Actually, a number of people have been saying they feel like they’ve come out of an abusive situation.
Maybe that’s why I feel a little sorry for the conspiracy cadre. They’re the people of my childhood and they’re victims of abuse, too. Now they’re unhappy and confused until they can find something else to fill the void of paranoia.
I’m sure they’ll find something—imagination is limitless.
Meanwhile, we have a new administration. Biden isn’t God and his supporters won’t be worshiping him like some of Trump’s supporters did. Maybe we can all put the worship aside and simply work together, which means expressing our disagreements with the hope of resolving them.