I’m trying to figure out what’s the saddest part about the following news item. Pretty much everything about it, I think.
When Michael Elliott died, the last voice he heard was that of his ex-wife, his best friend.
In a short phone conversation moments before Elliott took his last breath, she told him what he wanted to hear.
“I told him that everything’s going to be all right,” Teresa Elliott told The Washington Post. “And Donald Trump has been impeached.”
Then he died, believing that to be so.
This man’s final days were wasted on raging against a president he didn’t vote for, and who has been in office for less than 100 days. And as that man died, his ex-wife told him what she knew would be a comforting lie. The two of them let Donald Trump control the last moment they ever shared together. And the target audience of the Washington Post finds it a heartwarming story.
Then they go back to wondering how the hell they keep losing.
I mean, it could very well happen. Trump could be impeached. I’ve given up trying to predict any of this. But to be that wrapped up in it, to let hatred eat away at your soul like that, even as you lay dying… I just don’t understand it.
Rest in peace, Michael Elliott. I’m sorry you didn’t get the president you wanted before you died. I’m sorry that your loved ones lied to you because they thought it would ease your torment. And I’m sorry that so many people consider it worthy of praise.