Bear with me, please.

Lately. I’ve become judgmental. Maybe too judgmental. Of my friends and associates. Of strangers, too. I’m especially judgmental of our president. Donald Trump. I think he’s the worst politician in the world. Despicable. A scalawag. A liar. A racist. Everything bad. Yet, I’m told by his supporters, that he ain’t all that bad. That he’s a good and honorable and decent guy. I don’t buy it for one minute. Meanwhile, I’m confused.  If he’s so bad, how did he get elected president? But that’s like asking, how did Hitler take over the Third Reich? Sure, Hitler had his supporters. So does Trump.  But that doesn’t make them okay and acceptable.  As I see it, from my judgmental point of view, Hitler and Trump fit into the same camp. Of bad, bad guys. That the world would be best without. When I raise this issue. Right here on my home turf,  I’m criticized as being too political and too judgmental. But I can’t help it. That’s the way I see things. My would-be friend Rosie, tells me cool it. That she respects and adores Trump. And that doesn’t make her a bad person. Of course, I’ve implied that she is bad. For having voted for him. That’s put our relationship in jeopardy. Even though Rosie says she won’t easily write me off as a friend. Rosie keeps cautioning me. About being too judgmental. About people, in general. And about life. She thinks that I’m a kook. A mental misfit. That I need to take time off. From thinking. That I think too much. Problem is. I don’t think nearly enough. I’ve fallen into a mental lethargy, of sorts. So bear with me, please. Give me time to get my act together.--Jim Broede