Nick7299

[Acyn @Acyn]

Ramaswamy: I’m going to pick you up. *almost drops kid*

[Gandalv @Microinteracti1]

Robert Mueller died last night.

He was 81 years old. He had a wife who loved him for sixty years. He had two daughters, one of whom he met for the first time in Hawaii, in 1969, on a few hours of military leave, before he got back on the plane and returned to Vietnam. He had grandchildren. He had a faith he practiced quietly, without performance. He had, in the way of men who have seen real things and survived them, a quality that is increasingly rare and increasingly mocked in the country he spent his life serving.

He had integrity.

And tonight the President of the United States said good!

I have been sitting with that word for hours now. Good. One syllable. The thing you say when the coffee is hot or the traffic is moving. The thing a man who has never had to bury anyone, never had to sit in the specific silence of a room where someone is newly absent, reaches for when he wants the world to know he is satisfied. Good. The daughters are crying and the wife is alone in the house and good.

I want to speak directly to the Americans reading this. Not the political Americans. Just the human ones. The ones who have lost a father. The ones who know what it is to be in that first hour, when you keep forgetting and then remembering again, when ordinary objects become unbearable, when the world outside the window seems obscene in its indifference. I want to ask you, simply, to hold that feeling for a moment, and then to understand that the man you elected looked at it and typed a single word.

Good.

This is not a country having a bad day. I need you to understand that. Countries have bad days. Elections go wrong. Leaders disappoint. Institutions bend. But there is a different thing, a rarer and more terrible thing, that happens when the moral center of a place simply gives way. Not dramatically. Not with a single catastrophic event. But quietly, in increments, until one evening a president celebrates the death of an old man whose family is still warm with grief, and enough people find it acceptable that it becomes the weather. Just the weather.

That is what is happening. That is what has happened.

The world knows. From Tokyo to Oslo, from London to Buenos Aires, people are not angry at America tonight. Anger would mean there was still something to fight for, some remaining faith to be betrayed. What I see, in the reactions from everywhere that is not here, is something older and sadder than anger. It is the look people get when they have waited a long time for someone they love to find their way back, and have finally understood that they are not coming.

America is being grieved. Past tense, almost. The idea of it. The thing it represented to people who had nothing else to believe in, who came here with everything they owned in a single bag because they had heard, somehow, across an ocean, that this was the place where decency was written into the walls. That idea is not resting. It is not suspended. It is being buried, in real time, with 7,450 likes before dinner.

And the church said nothing.

Seventy million people have decided that this man, this specific man who has cheated everyone he has ever made a promise to, who has mocked the disabled and the dead and the grieving, who celebrated tonight while a family wept, is an instrument of God. The pastors who made that bargain did not just trade away their credibility. They traded away the thing that made them worth listening to in the first place. The cross they carry now is a costume. The faith they preach is a loyalty oath with scripture attached. When the history of American Christianity is written, this will be the chapter they skip at seminary.

Now I want to talk about the men who stand next to him.

Because this is the part that actually breaks my heart.

JD Vance is not a bad man. I have to say that, because it is true, and because the truth matters even now, especially now. Marco Rubio is not a bad man. Lindsey Graham is not a bad man. They are idiots, but not bad, as in BAD! These are men with mothers who raised them and children who love them and friends who remember who they were before all of this. They are not monsters. Monsters are simple. Monsters do not cost you anything emotionally because there is nothing in them to mourn.

These men are something more painful than monsters.

They are men who knew better, and know better still, and will get up tomorrow and do it again.

Every small compromise they made had a reason. Every moment they looked the other way had a justification that sounded, at the time, almost reasonable. And now they have arrived here, at a place where a president celebrates the death of an old man and they will find a way, on television, to say nothing that means anything, and they will go home to houses where children who carry their name are waiting, and they will say goodnight, and they will say nothing.

Their oldest friends are watching. The ones who knew Rubio when he still believed in something. Who knew Graham when he said, out loud, on the record, that this exact man would destroy the Republican Party and deserve it. Who sat next to Vance and thought here is someone worth knowing. Those friends are not angry tonight. They moved through anger a long time ago. What they feel now is the quiet, irrecoverable sadness of watching someone disappear while still being present. Of watching a person they loved choose, again and again, to become less.

That is what cowardice costs. Not the coward. The people who loved him.

And in the comments tonight, the followers celebrate. People who ten years ago brought casseroles to grieving neighbours. Who stood in the rain at gravesides and meant the words they said. Who told their children that we do not speak ill of the dead because the dead were someone's beloved. Those people are tonight typing gleeful things about a man whose daughters are not yet done crying. And they feel clean doing it. Righteous. Because somewhere along the way the thing they were given in exchange for their decency was the feeling of belonging to something, and that feeling is very hard to give up even when you can no longer remember what you gave for it.

When Trump is gone, they will still be here.

Standing in the silence where the noise used to be. Without the permission the crowd gave them. Without the pastor who told them their cruelty was holy. They will be alone with what they said and what they cheered and what they chose to become, and there will be no one left to tell them it was righteous.

That morning is coming.

Robert Mueller flew across the Pacific on military leave to hold his newborn daughter for a few hours before returning to the war. He came home. He buried his dead with honour. He served presidents of both parties because he understood that the institution was larger than any one man. He told his grandchildren that a lie is the worst thing a person can do, that a reputation once lost cannot be recovered, and he lived that, every day, in the quiet and unglamorous way of people who actually believe what they say.

He was the kind of American the world used to point to when it needed to believe the story was true.

He died last night. His wife is alone in their house in Georgetown. His daughters are learning what the world is without him in it. And somewhere in the particular hush that falls over a family in the first hours of loss, the most powerful man and the biggest loser on earth sent a message to say he was glad.

The world that loved what America was supposed to be is grieving tonight. Not for Robert Mueller only. For the country that produced him and then became this. For the distance between what was promised and what was delivered. For the suspicion, growing quieter and more certain with each passing month, that the America people believed in was always partly a story, and the story is over now, and there is nothing yet to replace it.

That is all it needed to be.

A man died. His family is broken open with grief.

That is all it needed to be.

Instead the President said good.

And the country that once stood for something looked away 🇺🇸

Gandalv / @Microinteracti1

[James Martin, SJ @JamesMartinSJ]

I know Pope Leo XIV to be a kind, open, humble, modest, decisive, hard-working, straightforward, trustworthy, and down-to-earth man. A brilliant choice. May God bless him.

[Ed Krassenstein @EdKrassen]

There are no other words needed. Vote.

[Nick7299 @nick33891]

@greenhousemd 100% with you!

[Keith Edwards @keithedwards]

This has 7 million views on TikTok

[Kolleen @littlewhitty]

It’s time to break the glass ceiling.

[Buitengebieden @buitengebieden]

Hedgehog’s ear massage.. 😊

© newsflare

[Canada Hates Trump @AntiTrumpCanada]

This dude is all of us…

[alexandra j. roberts @lexlanham]

we went trick or treating tonight & some guy told my newly 7 year old if she smiled she could have 3 candies

she scowled & took 2 😂

[Gabriel Bosslet @gbosslet]

In honor of Halloween

[Blue Georgia @BlueGeorgia]

It's easy to forget how insane the stuff Trump says is sometimes because there's so much of it. Thanks, Jimmy Kimmel.

[Victor Shi @Victorshi2020]

Oh my goodness. I can’t get over this photo. This little kid is why we are fighting & who we are doing it for. ❤️

[Fred Guttenberg @fred_guttenberg]

A PERSONAL UPDATE!!!

Last Father’s Day I mentioned that following this election I would be stepping away from advocacy and politics. If the election goes the right way, the work will continue with amazing advocates who fight every day for our safety. If the election goes the wrong way, the work will stop. I fully expect that this the election will result in Kamala Harris as President and Tim Walz as Vice President. Either way, for me, it will be time to move forward in a new direction.

I have spent the past almost 7 years living a life I did not choose. I was always on the road, or when home, absorbed by reading, writing, zoom meetings, interviews, phone calls, etc. My family never got the best of me. I spent more time with other young people than I did with my son. I spent more time with other adults than I did with my wife, my family, my longtime friends. I am a truly fortunate and lucky man that my family gave me the space that I needed to pursue the mission to reduce gun violence in America.

I have spent years trying to help people imagine what I have experienced just to get them to vote. Voting always gives me hope and I believe voting is the way to solve problems in America. I am again counting on that being true in this election.

Last Father's Day I was clear that I had one big job left in me and it was this election. For me, this election is about my hopes for the future. However, this election is also about working to protect things we hope not to lose. I already lost what I love most with the murder of Jaime. Women have already lost bodily autonomy in many states. Democracy is at risk, as are our rights to vote in future elections. This election is now exactly one week away from being over. I hope we all vote to protect what we still have, what we value, and who we love. Let’s vote with hope for the future.

What stepping away from politics and advocacy means for me is still a work in progress. With certainty, I will devote added attention to the work that our foundation Orange Ribbons for Jaime is doing. I love everyone who I have gotten to know personally, in politics, in media and across the country. I will be forever grateful to the many heroes across the nation who fight every day for our right to be free from gun violence. Now, it is time to put my energy back into my family, my friends, and myself.

I have only two remaining asks of everyone. The first is probably expected and easy as we have only one week left. If you have not yet voted, please get out and vote and if possible, vote early. Do it for me, do it for Jaime, do it for the other victims of gun violence who have no voice today, do it for those who you love and want to protect from gun violence, do it for this Democracy that we all love, and do it for your ability to keep on voting in future elections.

The second ask is that you don’t forget Jaime and me. I have invested all my heart, soul, and energy into this and into protecting others who I will never know because of what happened to my family. I have no idea what my place in the history of this movement will mean, but I do hope I played an important role and that my voice mattered. I am proud of what we achieved, and I am hopeful for what will come next. While my voice will still show up on occasion, it is time for me to again live and to dedicate myself to my family.

No, I am not retiring. I am going to start reliving.

One last note, and it is a personal ask of our next President. @KamalaHarris, while I am stepping away, I hope to begin by celebrating your election. If you see this, would love to join you at your inauguration.

[George Conway ⚖️🇺🇸 @gtconway3d]

This is f*^&ing awesome

[Ed Krassenstein @EdKrassen]

Kamala Harris is apparently interrupted by some Trump supporters at her rally.

Her response is EPIC.

[Lauren Gambill, MD MPA (she/her) @renkate]

All kids are our kids.

[Science girl @sciencegirl]

Pup wanted to be close
https://t.co/hShamievj9