When I am at a loss for words, I turn to our poet, Walt Whitman.

When I am at a loss for words, I turn to our poet, Walt Whitman.
As the wide parameters of the treacherous event come to light, it seems that we are in store, as a nation, for a bumpy ride going forward, and it is going to take some harsh measures by the incoming Biden administration to keep things in check.
Events of the last few days have exposed more than ever before the Trump Movement’s total disdain for democracy, that is disdain for the rights and franchise of each and every individual American.
What if we’re in a cosmic race with implications for the entire universe in all its mind-boggling vastness?
People don’t consider themselves selfish pigs for ignoring the health safety guidelines like this, but they are. Denial doesn’t explain it. Immorality does.
As I grew up and moved away, I adopted a couple more favorite traditions I’d never encountered in my youth, and one of them was the Frank Capra film from 1946, “It’s a Wonderful Life” (another being Bing Crosby’s really hokey “White Christmas.” I love it).
Indeed, we should truly think about why there is so little attention being paid by the media and the opposition party to what Trump is up to now.
What has struck me most about driving around my neighborhood on December 1 of this most momentous and memorable year of 2020 was the amount of colorful, beaming and blinking holiday decorations that are already out and smiling at the world.
Worried visages haunted me at every turn until the great Saturday, Nov. 7, when at last by mid-afternoon the major news organizations announced that Joe Biden had secured enough delegates to put him and Kamala Harris over the Electoral College top.
This is no time for grumpy pessimists. The historic U.S. presidential election of this month deserves nothing less than dancing in the streets. And more dancing in the streets.