NOTE: This author is neither a member of any form of political party nor does he endorse any political candidate. Some do not believe this, but there are apolitical people who don’t see politics in every element of life. We like to think for ourselves and are never collectivist. We are a rare, but proud breed.
It hadn’t been that long since I had re-read the libretto and listened to the score for the Stephen Sondheim and John Weidman musical Assassins. A revue-style work, its Off-Broadway premiere was cut short due to the Persian Gulf War and its Broadway premiere delayed due to the events on September 11th, 2001. At both junctures, it was thought the subject matter too transgressive, being about all the presidential assassins as well as some of those who made the attempt.
I first saw Assassins in a confused production at a local university (the Balladeer somehow became a preening Vegas lounge lizard in a pink suit) and walked away feeling, for the first time with a Sondheim musical, that I hadn’t gotten a real show—something with more substantive meat than just some well-written sketches and some mildly terrifying songs. Company makes me feel a little similar and both musicals leave me cold emotionally. They do not give you a pay-off like a show with a plot.
Company is better than Assassins because the characters all seem to be rather fleshed out and you can see them having lives outside of the little vignettes. Assassins is written in a timeless vacuum where various historical figures interact with each other to very American styles of music and little of typical Sondheim except lyrical brilliance and, of course, perfect music for that kind of sketch show. Re-reading it, I was more deeply unsettled than ever before to the point where I probably would never want to see it onstage again since the guns are often pointed at the audience. Still, I think it should be performed—because it does say something. Something about the American dream promising a bit too much, something about people who are unable to connect to one another, something about how mental illness, not political aims, are the reasons for such would-be assassins more often than not.
I didn’t witness last weekend’s assassination attempt in real time. I don’t watch the news and many of you will think that a good reason not to write this piece, but I can’t control that. I know enough of politics to know to not let it make you apoplectic. But this news spread like wildfire. Frankly, I think most of us have expected something of this kind would happen to one or another of the candidates during this race—a race, no matter on which side you lean—being kind of a “civil war” in the sense that the election will be two completely different forms of societies fighting for their version of the future.
In this world of knee-jerk reactions, the first post on X I encountered was from a playwright. “If you’re going to do it, EXECUTE!” was the statement and I recoiled in horror. Then, with Instagram, came everything from ironic anecdotes about people reaping what they sow. When Biblical verses get misread by both the right and the left, you can tell madness is on the way. That is the true form of our society—madness.
I have believed the same things about politics my entire life, even as I’ve seen many presidents come and go. The right has always not exactly used their noggins to the fullest potential and the left routinely breaks your heart by promising what they cannot deliver. As it was in Ancient Rome, so it is now. Both sides make me furious. There is no place left for centrists. And the words “liberal” and “conservative have become curse words, for whatever reason. The news and politics and ideology do not have to be a part of my life. I don’t wish to engage in posting slacktivist comments, ripping people to shreds with hastily gathered statistics, and shaming people. I try to vote without talking about it. That’s actually how I think it should be with Americans and yet it never has been that way.
It is a given fact that the rhetoric used in 21st century American politics is tearing us apart. Somehow I knew in the back of my mind (because one doesn’t have to be psychic), progressives would use this opportunity to post tasteless jokes—inhuman, even—and the traditionalists would start thinking conspiratorially. Everything about this incident fits patterns that have been around for some time: a misfit in society who turned to weapons to either impress or make an impression.
What is a president? They are, generally, not people I admire. I think the job requires a certain ruthlessness and the best presidents have been ruthless, corrupt often, and criminals in some cases. When someone is actually a good or honorable person gets the job, like Jimmy Carter (a man I immensely admire) and Thomas Jefferson (who I admire with all his flaws), they are often ineffectual Commanders-in-Chief. I can’t for the life of me understand why anyone would want that job, but the ones that are the best at it are geniuses at arm-bending back-room skullduggery (Lincoln, Roosevelt), being shrewd, over-confident, and prone to lying as if it were their damned jobs (Kennedy, Clinton), and any other number of very human tendencies. I’m not sure why to be a good president, you must lack some very basic aspects of humanity, but it just seems so.
I have been chastised for staying out of the madding fray and, thus, branded right-wing by people who don’t know me. I am nothing of the kind. But, when an assassination attempt occurs, I’m sympathetic. It is true people die under the watches of presidents, but the presidents are humans also.
I wonder how much negativity and screaming every four years I can take. I wonder it every time. People live to tear down people online. Some, like the attempted assassinator, take the matter further.
Like Alice, worried in Wonderland, I don’t want to go around mad people and, so, I stay out of politics. But I can say for certain I never wish for death on anyone. I was shocked to see so many friends of mine—gifted, intelligent—who would’ve gotten what they wanted if the man was killed and would have relished it.
A sick, sick time.
To better times!
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