When I Mentioned Love

In my previous post, I mentioned that I love the country I was born in.

This is partially true.

I do not love, but despise its past and current state she is in and the masquerade of arrogant exceptionalism she has had the privilege to strut around in while simultaneously “preaching” to other countries with bombings and politically destabilizing them into “being better”.

I love the idealization of her, which is not the same thing as loving her as she is, was, and has yet to be.

And yet, I also admit that with love comes criticism and rebuke.

For example, if you love your mother, you would not send her out into the world with her silk slip stuck into her pantyhose, her eyes filled with crusty boogers, snot in her nose, and her hair looking tangled and in need of grooming.

Of course not. You would let her know that she needs to wash her face, comb her hair, and fix her clothing. If you love her, you would help her do it.

The USA needs to take a long look in the mirror, (if she can stomach it), and keep her promises to her citizens, not traitors who not only allowed themselves to be seduced by lies, but emboldened by them, as well.

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