observations on life

A Ministry of Niddering Ninnies

Well, we’ve gotten what a minority of citizens voted for.  That Herr Trump lost the election by nearly three million votes notwithstanding, our “electors” have made him president.  Of the United States.  It’s a heart-rending reality to contemplate.  Worse, are his choices for his cabinet, variously referred to as “a Fucktangle of Dunderheads,” a “Confederacy of Dunces,” or my own title for it, a Ministry of Niddering Ninnies.  It is the brain damaged leading the blind through their own Slough of Despond, dragging the rest of us behind them.

Most egregious, however, is the fact that millions of voters are so poorly educated, uninformed, besotted with their own ignorance, and full of fear, hate, and bigotry that they voted for this racist, sociopathic, cognitively impaired miscreant for president. (I could use even more descriptors, but I’ll stop there.)  Obviously many factors have combined to create this monstrous travesty, not the least of which is an education system so drained of integrity and mental discipline that ignorance and an inability to think rationally have been elevated to a status to be desired and applauded.  “When mediocrity becomes the norm, it is not long before mediocrity becomes the ideal,” A.N. Wilson said.  We have apparently now left mediocrity behind with G.W.Bush, and after a moment of redemption with Mr. Obama,  have descended directly into utter ineptitude and evil.  And that’s exactly what millions and millions of American voters want.  I hope they get it.


The disquietness of my heart

I am feeble and sore broken: I have roared by reason of the disquietness of my heart.

My heart panteth, my strength faileth me: as for the light of mine eyes, it also is gone from me.

My lovers and my friends stand aloof from my sore; and my kinsmen stand afar off.     Psalm 38

I am feeble and sore broken.

My strength fails me.

Darkness covers my days.

My soul abandons me.


I am rereading Undercurrents by Martha Manning, one of my favorite books.  Published in 1994, the book chronicles her decent into suicidal depression.  She quotes Psalm 38 as her depression worsens.  Her description of how she feels as she descends into the darkness is the most honest and illustrative of any I’ve ever read.

“I am afraid,” she writes.  “Afraid of managing the desolation of each second.”

Manning is a psychologist in private practice, who also teaches psychology graduate students, when her depression starts.  Her life is good.  She is busy and well-respected.  She has a good marriage and a happy child.  There is no precipitating event.  She simply slowly and inexorably becomes more and more depressed.  Her stamina fails until she can barley get out of bed.  She is interested in nothing.  She dreads being with other people because she has to “cover,” which drains what little strength she has.  Everything overwhelms her, even the simplest tasks.  Trying talk therapy and antidepressant after antidepressant, her mood continues to plummet until she wishes for death.

“I can’t sleep.  I can’t eat.  I can’t read or talk or concentrate for more than several seconds.  The force of gravity around me has tripled.  It takes so much effort just to lift an arm or take a step.”  Describing her medications, she says, “All these potions make me big for a while, but the sweetness of their promises melts like kisses somewhere inside myself.  And I become small again.  So small that I can’t find myself.  All I can find is my fear.  The fear that my daylight is truly past and I am destined only for night.”