Trash Day

We don’t live in the best neighborhood.

It’s definitely not the worst: our house is on a multi-block stretch of single family homes, built in the 1950s, mostly owned by the people living in them. A large elementary/middle school is around the corner, and a charter school specializing in serving autistic students a block over from that. There is a very large church, and a public library. On another block in another direction is a Boys and Girls Club and a branch campus of the local community college. A lot of the people around here are very nice — our neighbors on either side are lovely — and the majority of the homes are well-maintained; there are lots of dogs, and only a couple of asshole owners who let their dogs roam around loose. We used to have a feral cat problem but it seems to have waned — though maybe they just started shitting somewhere else after we covered over our desert-dirt-sand yard (which the feral cats saw as a very large litter box) with 11 tons of pointy landscaping rocks. Either way I’m happier with less cat shit in my yard.

But about a block away is an apartment complex that seems to get very frequent visits from the police, and sometimes from the coroner. Next to it is a convenience store that appears to be mostly convenient for armed robbers. The long, straight roads to either side of us are very popular with street racers and people who want to make their engines sound VERY loud late at night, and during the daytime, we get regular fly-overs from the nearby Air Force base. Running behind all of the houses on our block (and most of the blocks in the neighborhood) are alleys where there are large communal trash cans; sometimes people drive down the alley and dump illicit trash into our shared can. Yet those trash dumpers never clean up the weeds and detritus in the alley. And nor do my neighbors. That big ol’ trash can is also directly behind our house and so sometimes gets aromatic for us. Two different houses nearby have been condemned in the last year, presumably because they were used to cook drugs; most likely meth, but I don’t know if they have fentanyl cooking sites like meth cooking sites — or hell, maybe even crack is making a comeback. One of them has been bought and is being rebuilt, which is great; but the other sits empty, windows boarded up, and some of the large and ever-growing homeless population in Tucson lives thereabouts, and so leaves large piles of broken and dirty possessions around the yard and the carport. Several members of that homeless population frequent the alleys and the streets in this area, not to mention the mentally ill drug addict who lives with — maybe his brother? — in the house on the other side of the alley from us. He climbs over the wall into the alley sometimes, goes off somewhere, and climbs back in later; sometimes we see him out on the street dancing to no music, or ranting loudly to no audience but the voices in his head. Sometimes he gets in arguments with his housemate/brother, who works and probably provides for them both. We don’t know the whole situation, but it seems very sad for all involved – including, tangentially, us, because it is difficult to have a man screaming at the top of his lungs and then jumping a wall into an alley (separated from your house only by an eminently jumpable fence), presumably to go buy drugs.

I like that even less than the cat shit.

And then there’s the trash.

There’s a lot of trash floating around. Not just in my neighborhood: one of my (many) duties at school is advising the National Honor Society chapter, which has adopted the road the school sits on; twice a year we pick up trash on that road, and there is always more trash, always enough to fill a couple of VERY large heavy duty plastic trash bags. I sometimes wish I could get the students in my NHS chapter down to pick up my neighborhood, but I have promised all of my students that if they ever come to my house, I will egg them (And if you’re one of my students and you’re reading this, I mean it. Track me down from the description of my neighborhood, and I will egg you mercilessly.), and that would just make an even bigger mess. There’s enough mess already: some of it is spillover from the large communal trashcans, and some is from the homeless folks, and much of it is from the schoolchildren, and the majority is probably just litter from passersby in cars or city buses. There’s a wash next to the church, and it has been a homeless encampment several times in the past as well as a dumping ground, mostly from people moving out of the apartments nearby who don’t want to carry all of their belongings away with them — or maybe it’s after they get evicted and it’s the landlords dumping all of their possessions in lieu of donating them to Goodwill; which is, admittedly, two blocks farther away than the wash, and therefore way less convenient. My wife and I, who frequently walk in our neighborhood, often wonder why the church never cleans up the trash in the wash: let alone taking care of the people who sometimes live in the wash, or along the levee a half-mile south of us. Wasn’t there something in the Bible about taking care of the poor?

I personally encounter most of the trash on those walks with my wife, or the other ones I take with my dogs. My dogs, luckily, are spoiled and overfed enough that they don’t eat the food refuse we come across (As long as I can pull them away quickly enough), but they always give it a nice sniff, along with the various piles of animal feces that are common all along the roads here. I know they find both the litter and the scat fascinating, but I can’t help but feel anxious and also a bit guilty: surely I shouldn’t let them sniff that awful stuff; what if it has germs? What if they do decide to sample the food, and it happens to be rotten or bacteria-ridden — or even poisoned? Or what if they just press their noses into the trash, into the feces, and then later press their noses against me, or my wife? I mean, ew. All the ew. So I keep a careful eye — a very careful eye — on them on our walks and I pull them away from anything gross.

And of course, I pick up their poop. And I make sure to bag my trash so little pieces of detritus don’t go flying away when the can gets dumped.

And then this past summer, I started picking up trash while I was walking the dogs.

I took this photo with my phone during the walk. That’s my girl Roxie, walkin’ on sunshine.

It was pretty easy, even though I walk with two dogs on two leashes, one on each wrist; I grabbed an extra plastic bag from the grocery store (Just like every other person, I have a bag filled with bags in my pantry), held it with one hand, grabbed trash with the other hand. You can see that I tied it shut and carried it with one finger; it wasn’t heavy. I had to yank on the dogs a few times when they wanted to keep going while I was pausing to grab a piece of trash; but considering how often they pause to sniff (Especially the fuzzy one in the shadows on the left), I had plenty of opportunities. Too many opportunities, in fact: I filled the bag long before I finished the walk, long before I ran out of trash to pick up. But I left the other trash where it was; I just picked up one small grocery bag worth of garbage.

And then another, the next time we walked.

This image I took at home, before I threw out this bag. That’s Neo the tortoise. He wasn’t on the walk.

And another bag, the time after that.

That’s our Arizona Ash tree in the background. We call it… well, Ash, of course.

And I kept doing that. Several times I found plastic grocery bags on the walk, and kept them for the next time if they weren’t torn or dirty — so I didn’t even use up all of my bag of bags! Still got ’em! Sometimes I got ambitious and filled more than one grocery bag, and a couple of times I found bigger trashbags, the white kitchen trashbags with drawstrings, and I picked up even more trash. I walked the dogs every two or three days, just around my neighborhood, never very far (They are old — though of course they are still baby baby puppies); there was always trash to pick up. I took a photo each time because I wanted to write this post about the whole thing. Here they are:

(Sorry they’re all turned sideways; I had trouble with the editing option on WordPress here — and I refused to use the AI editor.)

So as you can see, I managed to pick up a lot of trash this summer.

And now, of course, when I take my walks, I find… a lot of trash. To no one’s surprise: I live in a city, and as I described, there are a large number of sources of the litter that is strewn across my neighborhood. I’m only one person, and I don’t walk that often, especially not once school started up again.

But this summer, at least, there was less trash in my neighborhood. My street and the streets directly around me were a bit cleaner. And, judging based on the road cleanups I have done for the last five years with NHS, my collection of trash would lead to less trash all the time: the first time we picked up our road we filled a dozen huge trashbags; the last two times, it was one or two bags. The trash collected, probably for years, before we started, and while new trash got littered in between our pickups, we reduced the backlog, and the new trash was much more manageable. And is it possible that people who live along the road we clean up noticed what we were doing and maybe got a little more careful with their trash, or even picked some up themselves? Sure: we have been thanked, several times, by residents who notice us out there in our orange hi-visibility vests, trudging along with bags of garbage and wearing rubber gloves. I’m confident that, if I keep picking up trash in my neighborhood, there will be less trash over time. The neighborhood will get better. A little cleaner, a little nicer to walk in, a little nicer to live in.

Now let me reveal the truth here: this is not a post about picking up trash. It’s a post about politics. About the upcoming election. And about doing something to make our neighborhood — in this case our country — a little better, a little cleaner. A little nicer to live in.

I’m not going to say that voting in the election is a citizen’s duty; I think it is, but I recognize that “duty” can be a heavy word, and not something that people easily accept — and that’s a good thing, because a duty is an obligation, and we shouldn’t take on obligations just because some yutz on the internet tells us we should. (Not even when the yutz in question is a splendid writer and a delightful person, with two very cute dogs and an awesome tortoise.) Obligations accrue, but generally don’t fade away — sort of like garbage in a neighborhood. I have not accepted that trash pickup is my duty; it is something I am willing to do, sometimes, but not my obligation.

So what I’m saying is that voting is something you should be willing to do. Just like my trash pickups on my dog walks, it’s not hard; sure, you can get really into it, just like I could get serious about the trash pickups (I will say that I did get serious once: there’s a little footbridge across a wash in a park down the block, and some asshat shattered several beer and liquor bottles on the cement surface. There were shards of glass EVERYWHERE, and I had to turn around and take the dogs the other way. That pissed me off: so after we finished the walk, I went back with a trashcan and a dustpan and whisk broom, and I swept up all of the glass.), and you can research every candidate and every race and every proposition and every county acquisition and every rule change and everything you are voting on. That would be amazing: the more you do, the better the result will be.

But also, there will always be more trash. It’s better to do a little often, and then relax. If you don’t exhaust yourself, don’t get burnt out, you can keep going out and doing the easy thing indefinitely. Make it a habit, and it will get even easier; it will get unconscious, and won’t feel like a chore at all. And it will make a difference, over time, because you will make things better directly, and the past buildup of garbage will be reduced: and you might inspire others to do good things as well. Maybe even the people you’re voting for.

I’m quite serious: it has become clear to me that our politicians are most interested in keeping their positions, above all other considerations. I have watched Republicans, many of them probably quite sincere in their patriotism, fall in line as Donald Trump has led this nation downhill towards a flaming junkyard built on top of a sewage pit, only because they didn’t want to get primaried by MAGA. They have violated their own morals again and again and again, accepting a liar and rapist and conman who is destroying everything that conservatives hold dear — our military dominance, our wealth, our moral standing among nations (or at least the appearance of moral standing). They passed a Russia sanction bill NAMED AFTER LINDSEY GRAHAM, and that fucking guy broke it to give Putin the gift of not only billions of dollars, but also pressuring other nations to lift sanctions on Russia, to go along with the ones he just broke himself. And though the Republicans in Congress are complaining, I guess, we all know they’re not going to do anything serious like refuse to vote for his bills or his nominees, or impeach or even censure him. Because they want to keep their positions, even as they watch their country go down into the flaming shit because of the guy they propped up in order to get his voting base to help them, too. And I don’t think most of the Democrats are any better, not in terms of their priorities: number one is keeping their seat. Period. Very few exceptions.

This means two things: first, if they want to keep their seats, then the thing they fear, the only thing they fear, is a motivated voting populace. The Republicans are worse about it, because they actively try to suppress votes; but the Democrats didn’t pass the John Lewis Voting Rights Advancement Act even when they had both houses of Congress and the White House in 2021, so I don’t think they’re doing much better at promoting a motivated voting populace. A motivated voting populace means that they need to actually work to please those voters. When nobody votes, it’s easier for them to do nothing and accomplish nothing and still keep their seats; but if we vote, if we vote consistently every election, then even if our specific votes in any given year don’t make a tangible change, the fact that numbers of us are voting makes the politicians have to pay attention to what we want, rather than what their donors want. That’s good. And secondly, voting in this country can still make a direct change. Remember that Trump has won — legitimately won — two Presidential elections, and that is the reason why he has power. The only reason, as clearly that shit-flinging gibbon couldn’t work his way into any position of authority that didn’t rest on — the choice of a motivated voting populace which he could manipulate with his cheap conman tricks. People voted: that’s how we got Trump. It’s also how we got Biden in 2020, and thank God we did: imagine if he had been doing this shit to an economy that never recovered from the pandemic.

When you vote, you help make the country better. You also help to clean up some of the shit that has built up in our political sphere. And both of those are good things. And what’s more, voting isn’t hard, and needn’t be an onerous duty: just set yourself up with an easy way to manage it, and get it done.

Help us all take out the trash, and see that it goes all the way to the dump.

Thanks.

Where There’s Fire, There’s Smoke(y)

Remember Smokey the Bear? “Only YOU can prevent forest fires!”

Yeah, that’s the one. I grew up seeing Smokey commercials and signs and decals. I never thought much about it; I took it as given, as so dead obvious that it didn’t need to be said, that I would of course be careful and try not to start forest fires or wildfires. I never took it in the way it has been turned into a joke – though I do think the joke is funny.

This one:

I especially like the image in the third panel, because to me it implies that Smokey has a deeper reality than the one presented in the other three panels, a far grander role in the universe – which to me implies that he is, in fact, an avatar of some greater cosmic or supernatural force, and lil Timmy would be wise to obey, even if the other people around them are telling Timmy that the bear is mad and should not be listened to; I also really like that Timmy still shows doubt in the fourth panel. Because he knows: the bear may be crazy, but that doesn’t mean he’s wrong.

I never took it that way, not really; but I have come to understand it now. It’s two things: first, English pronouns are stupid, and we should never have abandoned “Thee” and “Thou;” and second, the meme, the joke, are representative of the way we too often view our world and our role in it. It’s that second one I want to speak to, to try to debunk – though I am also happy to speak to that first one.

Sure, why don’t we start with that. You see, the problem is that we only have one second-person pronoun: you. In all instances of pronoun use (other than the possessive pronoun “yours,” but that’s a somewhat different situation), which is even dumber – because while the subjective first person is “I” or “We,” and the objective first person is “me” or “us,” and the third person gives us several options for subject and object pronouns – he/him, she/her, it/it, they/them – for second person it is only “You.” You are my friend. You are reading this post. I published it for you. I give you my thoughts. If we had retained “thee” and “thou,” then the singular second person would be easier and clearer – Thou are (art) the chosen one; the task of preventing forest fires belongs to thee – and only the plural second person would continue to be dumb – You (all) are good people, but too much weight has been placed on you (all). And it would be dumb in a way that couldn’t be fixed by the use of “y’all,” though that particular colloquialism does solve the singular/plural debacle. (Except we often use plural pronouns to represent a single person…)

So the problem with pronouns, applied to Smokey, is that we hear the singular “you” – meaning my own solitary self, just Lil Timmy – because we are reading it, because we are watching the commercials, because we are seeing the signs, all individually, in our own heads. Smokey is speaking to ME and ME alone. But he’s not: he’s speaking to all of us. Only WE can prevent forest fires. Meaning humans. All of us.

How do I know? Because here are two more Smokey ads.

See, this is the distinction that Smokey is trying to make: the animals, in their infinite cuteness (Sorry: the bunnies are infinitely cute. The foxes look concerned. Smokey believes in us, and the elk is trusting Smokey to make the call and is warning us not to let the bear down. The quail [Pheasant? Guinea fowl? What is that large round bird next to the raccoon, the one with the awesome crest and the fashionable glasses?] is already disappointed in us, and is giving up – and I’m pretty sure that all of the other animals, the squirrel, the fawn, the skunk, the raccoon, and the duck, are warning us about the chipmunk. Who, since it is sitting on a perfectly flat stump, probably has a chainsaw stashed away somewhere – and it’s just aching to break that bad boy out and start chopping us into pieces.) cannot stop forest fires: but we humans can. And here’s how:

We – all of us, all of “you” from Smokey’s perspective – can prevent forest fires simply by caring, and being careful. Because, of course, we are the ones who cause the fires, because we don’t care, because we aren’t careful. See, Smokey’s not telling us – me, and you the individual reading this right now – that we are the Chosen One(s), who must roam the forest night after night, putting out sparks, cutting firelines, flying the firefighting planes and dropping water on hotspots. He’s telling us that we simply have to care enough to not be careless when we are in a position to start a fire.

Matches, campfires, and cigarette butts. That’s what we need to do: be careful with those things, those sources of ignition. Not take on the whole task by our lonesome, not even join the fight and put out fires; just be careful with the danger that we, individually, pose. I’m not a camper, so I don’t have much to do with campfires; but I smoked cigarettes for almost twenty years, and you know how many fires I started? Well – one, which destroyed my room and my possessions and could have burned down the house. But I never started any wildfires!

And that, right there, is why Smokey had to keep reminding us, keep telling us, keep asking us – pleading with us – to just do what is obviously the absolute minimum: do not allow our own stupid, lazy indifference to our world lead to that world’s destruction. Like telling me that the best way I can prevent murder is not to commit murder, the best way I can fight rape is not to rape. (And, you know what? That’s not enough, but it would be a good minimum standard.) The first four words of the Hippocratic Oath, which I use as my first and most important classroom rule with all of my students – and I include the Latin, just to be fancy and try to impart to my students how serious and important this is: First, Do No Harm. (Primum non nocere, if you also want to be fancy, and remember Latin uses a hard “K” sound for “c.” [We won’t talk about Iulius Kaiser…]) Because as careful as I always was with the fires that I started twenty times a day, three inches from my own face, I wasn’t always careful: and once I did start a fire. And it did harm, though fortunately only to me. And I guess a little harm to my landlord – but also, fuck him, he owned like thirty properties in Santa Cruz, California, the most expensive place in the country, and he charged high rent and did exactly zero maintenance. He wasn’t as cute as those forest critters.

Other than that chipmunk. Who’s really starting to freak me out. It’s got those beady little eyes. Dead eyes. Doll’s eyes. And okay, the blue patch behind the stump is Smokey’s denim-clad legs – but do you see what looks like a curved handle on the left side of that stump? Is that the chainsaw? Is that little rodent about to rip it, scream “GROOVY!” and charge out of the picture, straight at us?

Would we deserve it if it did?

Would you?

If you do the minimum, then you don’t deserve it. I mean that: just the minimum. Just – do no harm. Care. Be careful. Put out your matches and campfires and cigarette butts, and make sure they are really out. Don’t do something stupid, like I did that one time – but will never do again. If you have made a mistake before, like I did, then learn from it, and be better. Be careful. That’s enough, even if it doesn’t feel like enough. It is enough, because the “you” in Smokey’s admonition is not only you, alone: it’s all of us.

That’s the key: and I’ll be clear in a moment what I actually mean by that. The truth is, that if we ALL do our part, do the bare minimum by keeping ourselves from doing harm, then everyone will have kept themselves from doing harm, and there won’t be any harm done. And that, in all honesty, would work with — almost everything.

If we all do the minimum, if we’re just careful, each and every one of us, then that would solve the problem: because we are the problem. All we need to do is stop being the problem. Care enough to not be the one who starts the fire.

Please.

Do you know why I’m talking about this? It’s not because I’m concerned about actual forest fires. Not because we’re deep into fire season, and with the extra rain from El Nino, it’s going to be a bad season this year (though, because I do want to avoid getting Texas Massacred by Chip/Dale there, I would like us all to be a little more careful with fires right now. Please.). But because we’re deep into another season, a different kind of dangerous season, and the climax of it is only four weeks away.

Because it’s election season.

And only we can prevent a fascist dictatorship.

We’ve been careless in the past. Several times, honestly, because while I think the worst president, the one who’s done the most damage, is this fucking guy we have now, and the second worst was ol’ Ronnie Reagan – I would argue that the third worst, and maybe the most insidious, was Bill Clinton; and without the groundwork that Reagan and Clinton laid, we wouldn’t have had half the problems we have had since the Millennium came. Fascism doesn’t come from nowhere, and it doesn’t come all of a sudden: and I will argue that nearly all of us are complicit, to some small degree, mostly by being careless – I voted for Clinton, mainly because I just didn’t know why I shouldn’t, because I wasn’t paying attention. I don’t know if voting for Bob Dole, in my case in 1996, would have been better: and that’s the issue. I don’t know. I should have known: I should have cared. But instead I was careless, and so I bear some of the shared responsibility for the destruction of the welfare state and the villainization of people receiving assistance, and for the racist attacks on black and brown people through the justice system which labeled them “superpredators,” and for the removal of the Glass-Steagall act, which set up the Great Recession and continued the march towards corporatism we are facing down now. I was careless, and I voted for what was probably the wrong candidate.

But at this moment, there is no doubt about who is the wrong party to support. I hope we all know now that voting for the party of Trump is the most careless, most dangerous thing we can do, other than actually going into the woods, to the middle of the Teddy Bears Picnic, and throwing a Molotov cocktail (January 6th would be the analogous action there, and if you think we’re immune from a new insurrection led by the same fucking guy who led the last one, then you’re being careless, and I have to ask you again: please.).

Let’s assume that the people reading this don’t want to do that. You don’t want to throw Molotovs at the Teddy Bears. You don’t want to burn the whole thing down. Some people do, of course, and whatever else we believe, we have to know that those people are wrong and dangerous. Even if you want to dismantle the system in place, and most of me wants to do that (Some of me is a coward, which on the bright side does make me careful), burning it down is not the right way to achieve reform. The civil war that would result from an actual conflict, and actual conflagration, would be far too destructive, and like any civil war would immediately rage out of control and burn everything, not just the bad things. Firefighters use controlled burns to contain wildfires, but not to stop them from starting: and within the controlled burns, inside the fire perimeter that our firefighters manage to create, everything is likely to be destroyed. We don’t want that to be our country. We really don’t. So we – you – are not going to start throwing kerosene around and then reach for the match.

So what do we do?

I’ve struggled with this for years. For better than a decade now, which obviates my usual excuse – which is not really an excuse, but it is true: I do enough already to support my community and improve my world, and I have more than enough emotional weight to lift and carry with me every day; I don’t have the wherewithal to take on large political activism. I can’t do it. I recognize that is a cop-out, but it’s the truth. I recognize, as well, that I should have done more ten years ago: I should have been more aware of how the DNC fucked up the 2016 election by cheating to remove Bernie Sanders from the ballot in order to push another Clinton presidency. I’m aware now that the DNC is not a trustworthy partner in our current fight, because they serve the same corporate and monied interests that the majority of the Republican party serves; and thus, they are trying to start the same fires the Republicans are, even if they want to hide the fires better and stand well back from the flames to distract us: because the Democrats writ large also profit from the scorched earth; and as part of the earth that would be scorched, I don’t want to let them do that.

But I also realize that, while there are surely Republican candidates who do not want to support Trumpian fascism, the majority of the GOP – the VAST majority – are carrying Tiki torches as they go down to the woods today, and every day. The ones in the red hats are also carrying Molotovs: but the Republicans who vote with Trump every time are not better than the ones in the red hats: they are still setting fires, and not because of carelessness, though carelessness is part of the reason for their actions. Not even the ones who have every reason to be better than the red hats, like Massie and Tillis and Cornyn and Cassidy, but who still fucking vote for Todd Blanche to destroy the rule of law and set fire to the Constitution. The Democrats, maybe only because they desperately want to oppose Trump and win more popularity thereby, will, for the nonce, put out the fires where they can instead of starting them.

What’s important, though, is not what the two parties will do, what the politicians on either side will do. What is important is what we do. What YOU do. And you – we – have to be careful. We have to care.

It’s the same thing here. People – perfectly good and decent people, just people who were being careless – voted for Trump, and for Republicans, in 2024. They were careless because they ignored what Trump had done before, and because they had believed all of the criticism of Joe Biden, and because they were angry at Washington and the way our political system always gives us two bad options, and then makes us choose between them. And people should be angry at that: and we should try to change that. And people are perfectly free to criticize Joe Biden; lord knows I did. More than once. But voting for Trump, no matter what the underlying reason was – fear over immigration, or rising prices, or the escalating wars in the Middle East – was careless; we were all holding a book of matches, and some people struck one and then dropped it, intentionally. Or maybe “hucked it at a Democrat” would be more appropriate, if we imagine the match tailing down, flaring orange, and then landing on a pile of dry leaves. Starting a fire: because of carelessness. Indifference. Ignorance – too much of it willing ignorance.

We can’t be that way any more. And the main point I want to make here, the reason I wrote all this starting with Smokey the Bear, is this: we don’t have to save the world by ourselves – you don’t have to save the world by yourself. All you have to do is your part.

Care. And be careful.

First of all: vote for Democrats. Vote for Independents or third party candidates, if your local Democrat is a firestarter, or a little too close to fascist (Looking at you, Fetterman.). Don’t vote Republican. Again, there are probably exceptions to that, and I won’t try to make it an absolute rule: but generally speaking, there is one side trying to set the country on fire, and one side trying to put it out, and the least we can all do is help try to put the country out. That is the Democratic side. So vote Blue.

More importantly, vote. Show up. The Republican strategy, for a long time, has been to restrict voter access, because their base are the ones who can most easily avoid the roadblocks they can put in place. Therefore the fewer people who vote, the better the Republicans do. Except the way they make that happen is by setting democracy on fire: and in order to keep their power, and now, to extract as much corrupt wealth as possible from the burning building, they have been ready and willing and even eager to set the country ablaze. So don’t help them, not even by being careless. Care. Pay attention. Vote. Talk, when and where you can, about what you see, about what is going on, about where you see embers smoldering, and where the water is. Try to put the little fires out, around you – but only as you can. If we all do just what we can, then that will be enough. Because it isn’t just you.

It’s us. All of us.

And only we can prevent American fascism.