Dear Kellyanne Conway

Dear Kellyanne,

I know you’re terribly busy, so let me begin by thanking you for taking the time to read this letter.

It’s hard to believe that only nine months have passed since Ted Cruz pulled out of the White House race. I can imagine it was a pretty big blow after all the effort and time you spent endorsing him.

The ads produced by your multi-million-dollar Political Action Committee (PAC) to ridicule Donald Trump hadn’t managed to dissuade the masses.

One of your commercials claimed he wasn’t a “real Conservative.” You even provided video evidence to back it up: footage from 1999, showing Trump expressing his support for late-term abortions.

You went on several television shows, arguing passionately that Trump was not fit for purpose. You accused him of intimidation. And you hounded him for refusing to publish his tax returns.

kellyanne_conway_by_gage_skidmore

Photo credit: Gage Skidmore Source: wikipedia

 

But nobody seemed to care about the facts.

Two months after Cruz quit, Trump became your boss.

It must have been terrifying.

And exhilarating.

Your journey to this point, you told NJ Advance Media in an article published last September (please correct me, if this is fake news) began when you were a teenager working at a farm in Hammonton, New Jersey.

You spent eight summers there, packing blueberries. And in every respect, you excelled.

You could reportedly pack 300 crates a day – a skill that ultimately helped you win the World Champion Blueberry Packing competition.

“The faster you went, the more money you’d make, you said.”I wouldn’t stop to drink for hours. I would just keep going.”

I’m not surprised you won. Years later, you seem equally indefatigable.

But packing blueberries is good work.

Knowingly selling rotten ones is not.

In a recent Tweet, you informed the world that you serve the “pleasure of @POTUS.” “His message is my message,” you wrote. “His goals are my goals.”

To a narcissist, there is no greater declaration of love. To anyone else, it reads as a cry for help.

Donald Trump has been forthright about his pleasures. In his own words, he is “automatically attracted to beautiful.”  As for his goals, here again, in his own words, is one he has admitted failing to achieve: “I did try and fuck her. She was married.”

His message is your message. His goals are your goals.

I wonder if this is the life you imagined for yourself as you were packing blueberries all those years ago.

Servitude and sycophancy.

Was this what you had in mind when you went to law school? Or later when you founded your own polling company?

You have many talents, Kellyanne. The most potent is your serpent’s tongue. With your glib and oily art, you can turn the truth into an alternative fact and back again, all in a matter of seconds. Your tricks might be easy to learn but they are difficult to employ because they rely on a trait exemplified by your administration but alien to most: shamelessness.

But please, please, please believe me when I say to you: you can do more.

You can do more than be ridiculed for failing at an impossible task: acting as a mouthpiece for a man whose own words and deeds make no sense, who operates only on whims, and whose extraordinarily thin skin needs constant massaging.

Never forget that Donald Trump is your inferior. He is less intelligent and less diligent.  He would never have had the stamina for packing blueberries  like you did. Had he entered the packing competition, you would have beaten him easily, even if he might later have claimed the contest was rigged.

When I think about the things you could do I get very sad. You could use your slick and artful oratory to challenge bigotry and hate. You could unravel the lies told by those in authority and give a voice to those who don’t have one. You could advocate for immigrants, for gay and transgender folk, for a woman’s right to bodily autonomy. You could be a role model, a person of substance.

But instead you elect to prop up a system rigged in favour of ignorance and fear.

History will be unkind to you. You will be described as the Goebbels of your time.

Here is a more frivolous example of what I mean.

When my boyfriend suspects me of bending the truth, he refers to me as Katzianne Conway.

It’s a joke. Still, it reveals an unpleasant truth: your name has become synonymous with lies.

All I want to say, Kellyanne, is that is never too late to do the right thing. The departure of just one of the high-ranking opportunists Trump has gathered around him could be enough to trigger the downfall of his administration.

And that, I believe would go some way towards Making America Great Again – a goal that for many people was bitterly redefined on January 20th.

Now, more than ever, your voice is needed. Your real one. The one you’ve buried deep inside you, where decency resides. The one you use when you look your children in the eye and tell them that everything will be alright.

That’s all I have to say.

Take care and good luck,

Kate Katharina

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A night of horrors: the death of decency

There was no need to worry about her accepting the result of the vote.

That’s what her running mate said as he introduced her onto the stage.

Just days ago, her opponent had made the same commitment. But he included the qualifier: “if I win.”

Well, he did. Hillary Clinton lost fair and square in an election rigged in favor of ignorance. The most qualified candidate ever to run, she had the audacity to hope she could beat a buffoon.

November 8th, 2016 will go down as a dark day in American history, just as March 5th, 1933 did in Germany.

Already, attention has turned to Trump’s conciliatory tone. After all, didn’t he pay tribute to her contribution to politics? Thank her for her decades of service?

Meanwhile, supporters outside chanted ‘lock her up!’

‘But how much damage can one individual really do?’ people ask each other with cautious optimism, indulging in fantasies of an orange-faced narcissist experiencing a eureka moment in the White House, as the extent of his ineptitude dawns on him. A molester re-thinking his territorial right to a stranger’s vagina.  A compulsive liar considering whether the truth might matter after all.

This result is about more than building walls and failing to shatter glass ceilings.

It is about the death of decency. The cult of shamelessness. The triumph of tyranny.

Today, men and women all over America endorsed misogyny and division, wilfully bypassing reason in their rush to restore the myth of greatness in the safety of a ballot box.

Television pundits, the mouthpieces of society, are painting them as disgruntled steelworkers struggling to eke out a living, ordinary folk battling against the evils of the ‘establishment.’

Victims of globalisation and greed. In other words, those in need of a billionaire messiah. Any saviour would have done. But not a woman with a shrill voice and a private e-mail server.

This is the day the American dream was redefined.

For little girls and boys around the world, the message as they turn out the lights tonight is this:

“Say it loud enough and they’ll believe you. Scare them into submission. Claim it, don’t earn it.

Lie, insult and grope your way to the top.”

The sun may rise again but all I see reflected now is darkness without end.