This political season, I hunger only for this: that the 2016 election and its resulting nomination of Donald J. Trump for president brings about such an outcry, such a flood of distemper, that the uprising against hate and oppression and the demand for love, tolerance, and bi-partisanship builds into an unavoidable, leveling tsunami of change. Rest assured the levies will break; we are simply feeling the gathering pressure.
Of course, the above is a sentiment that is mostly unspeakable. It's too optimistic, too whimsical, too far off in the distance. Much damage can be done while we await some kind of revolution, for this is a restless, boiling sea. But on the other hand, it might well be the opposite: this tempest is upon us, the storm too close to see. We are in a dustless cyclone of mutiny, bound for Oz, passing through a dark cloud we won't recognize until we pop out the other side.
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