Where to begin, and where will it all end?

I realize I live in ruby red Indiana. Furthermore, I have no desire to gratuitously insult the political judgement of a majority of my fellow Hoosiers. For these public reasons (as well as some private ones), I have been somewhat circumspect when it comes to my evaluation of the current tenant in the White House.

It’s not been easy. OMG, it has not been easy. But I try, I really do try. When it all becomes too much, I drag out my trusty Kindle and burrow into totally non-enriching recreational, albeit historical, fiction as an escape. Or I kick up the volume on my bagpipe tunes for a few hours. To voluntarily subject one’s self to blaring bagpipes for significant periods of time is surely indicative of a psyche in deep, deep trouble.

Problem is, I think I understand the man’s appeal.

For folks fed up with slick politicians of all spots and stripes, his take-no-prisoners approach has its appeal. Without skipping a beat, today’s ally can be tomorrow’s enemy of the people, or vice versa.

He keeps his campaign promises, kind of, even if the promises themselves are less than practical. Eighteen billion dollars for a wall. Really? Commune with the shades of the various Chinese emperors who built the Great Wall … or the Roman wall builders, emperors Hadrian and Antoninus Pius. Ask them how things worked out.

In the case of the Romans, the fact most of us do not converse in Latin is probably a clue.

As for the Chinese, well, they pretty much own us, so it’s not politic to twist the dragon’s tail.

The current tenant in the White House and his Republican fellow travelers have gifted us with a really great middle-class tax cut. I know a professional couple who estimate that they stand to save about $38,000 annually, which is substantially more than a Costco membership. Most of those of us in the proletariat will not do quite as well, but heck, we can dream. Try to forget that it is only a dream.

I applaud his willingness to take on those snooty foreign countries and demand they pay their fair share of the expenses of defending freedom around the globe, or we will pick up our marbles and go home.

I love the idea of making America great again, but I do sometimes (as in, always) wonder when America was un-great? I guess it must have been during the tenure of his predecessor, He-Who-Must-Be-Blamed, who gets the rap for most everything that cannot be laid at the door of Her Hillaryness, the Wicked Witch from the East.

I appreciate his concern that there be due process for accused wife beaters, even if he advocated locking up you-know-who without the preliminaries of a trial.

I want to believe the whole Russia thing is a Deep State plot, but if that is the case, why is everything being done to wreck the investigation that will undoubtedly exonerate him? If one were of a suspicious nature, one might suspect the coin of the realm being used to keep his private businesses afloat is measured in rubles rather than dollars.

I want to be able to believe what comes out of the mouth of my president, despite accusations that he has only a passing acquaintance with the truth, or at least truth backed up with demonstrable facts.

I want to believe that, in his heart of hearts, he respects everyone’s wives, mothers, daughters, and sisters, even if his mouth seems incapable of saying so with any sincerity.

Mussolini made Italian trains run on time. Hitler put Germany back to work. I want my president to make such accomplishments seem puny by comparison, but, hopefully, without the negative consequences.

I want a demonstration that somewhere in that cheeseburger-chiseled body there reside a few ounces of compassion and empathy for the folks who have voluntarily placed their trust, hopes, and dreams in his hands.

In short, I want to believe in this guy.

I want to toast his successes with champagne.

My fear, however, is that we will find the only beverage on offer is Kool-Aid.