Paganistan: Notes from the Secret Commonwealth
In Which One Midwest Man-in-Black Confers, Converses & Otherwise Hob-Nobs with his Fellow Hob-Men (& -Women) Concerning the Sundry Ways of the Famed but Ill-Starred Tribe of Witches.
What Will I Do If (Gods Forbid) Orange Wins?
What will I do if a certain twice-impeached convicted felon and tax-dodging traitor should (gods forbid) win the election? I'll tell you.
I'll do pretty much the same thing that I'll do if (gods willing) the US gets its first female president.
I'll see that N. gets her lawn mowed and her walk shoveled.
I'll see that M. gets to the grocery store.
I'll see that the Wheel gets turned.
In short, I will do everything that I can to see that the ongoing life of my people, my tribe, my (exasperating as we can be) beloved community goes forward with strength into an uncertain future.
(All futures are always uncertain.)
That's the advantage of being part of a tribe, as you and I both are, dear reader: you can't help but take the long view. That's the advantage of having a past.
We were here long before T. Rump.
Long after T. Rump is gone—gods hasten the day—we'll still be here.
At least, we will if I have anything to do with it.
Gods help America. Gods help us all.
Above:
Sacred to the witches of the Driftless, Trempealeau (also called Rattlesnake Island) is the Mississippi's only freestanding bluff.
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