I’m grieving. Going through the stages. This week was anger. The grief isn’t because “everyone I know is a Nazi.” They aren’t. That’s the problem. That’s what makes it worse. “I find this argument boring and lacking substance,” my friend says. “Trump’s a lot of things, but he’s not a tyrant.” My friend isn’t a Nazi. He’s a good guy. He’d help his immigrant neighbors. He’d give you the shirt off his back. And he’ll keep finding each individual argument boring and lacking substance, right up until the moment it’s undeniable, even to him, and the people he’d help are gone.