In prefacing the share, I posed this question: how do deeply religious people justify Trump’s course language, his mockery of a disabled man, his boasts of shooting someone and getting away with it, his name-calling based on looks and gender, and his scathing, below-the-belt attacks on people who dare disagree with him? My post generated a number of interesting comments, all of which were from anti-Tumpers, except for a series of comments from a dear old friend. Sure, it’s good to get a debate going and hear views from all sides. But I’m left wondering why I even bother to share political views on social media, especially when a majority of my contacts are liberals. Do I really think my opinions are going to sway anyone with opposing views? Of course not. Facts, figures, research, logic, the voting-against-your-own-interest argument—none of it matters when it conflicts with deeply-held, family-instilled values and experiences.

When disgraced Fox News personality Bill O’Reilly incited a fear-fest by saying that if elected 2004 Democratic presidential candidate John Kerry would abolish Christmas as a federal holiday and replace it with “winter solstice or something” — it’s obvious we’re dealing with people who value what’s personally sacred, more than policies that might actually improve their lives. Plus, we live in an age of what-about-ism. When the only way a Trump supporter can defend the President is with things like — “Well, what about Clinton’s lying and womanizing?” or “What about Hillary calling Trump’s followers ‘deplorables?’, and “What about the bad things Democrats have done in the past?” — any kind of intelligent debate is off the table.

Yes, I admit that erstwhile Democratic leaders have lied, cheated on their wives, prolonged wars, and mucked up the economy. And I’m appalled. Politics is a dirty, egocentric business. I believe that a lot of politicians start out with the best of intentions, and eventually get sucked into the vortex of sexual temptation, delusions of power, and personal gain from special interest groups with deep pockets.

I can sort of understand how and why Trump initially appealed to certain people, based on his promises to drain the swamp of Club Washington politicians. But I’m just plain baffled by how the deeply religious set can still support him. I consider myself a spiritual, not a religious, person. I dig Jesus as a prophet. And I KNOW that Jesus would not tolerate a Trump. “Oh, he shoots from the hip and sometimes says naughty things, but he’s getting things done!” This is what I usually hear from Trump supporters who are interviewed by reporters at his rallies. Oy vay, what’s the use?

So, here’s MY twist on what-about-ism: What about Obama? What if he had acted in the same brash, name-calling manner as Trump while in office? What if he had bragged about getting away with murder in the streets? Would the public have tolerated it? I think not. I wouldn’t tolerate any bully-leader like that, Democrat or otherwise, no matter how much they improved the economy (if we are to assume that a President is solely responsible for economic improvement).

So, back to my original proclamation: I am done posting or responding to political posts on Facebook. Sure, there’s a certain feeling of hope that grows when we connect with like-minded people. But when we share these never-ending horror stories about the President, what are we really accomplishing? We’re just working ourselves up. Wouldn’t those of us who fear a second term for Trump be better off doing something more constructive to prevent that outcome? And if so, what should we do that’s within our ability or comfort zone?

We liberals on Facebook are merely preaching to the choir. And maybe we feel just a wee bit superior as we consume intelligently-written, in-depth articles and compelling op-ed pieces in venerated publications. In the end, are we disparaging “the others”? Isn’t that a right-wing tactic? When we proclaim on social media that a vote for Trump is a vote for the end of the world as we know it, aren’t we engaging in the same type of fear-mongering that we accuse Republics of? Do we see most Trump supporters — even the highly-educated — as delusional, ill-read, Fox-addicted, xenophobes and racists? Might this be “intellectual bullying?” Are we to dissolve life-long friendships with people whose beliefs conflict with ours? In the days following the massacre of 11 innocent people in a Pittsburgh synagogue, I declared, in my need to blame someone or something, that the killings were incited by Trump’s “immigrant invasion” rhetoric. Maybe, maybe not. Much depends upon the intrinsic human need to process a killer’s horrendous action.

Political commentator David Brooks wrote a very interesting piece in the New York Times on January 9, titled “Trump Has Made Us All Stupid.” His thesis is that Democrats are becoming hysterical with fear and loathing in the same manner as Republicans, spending more time and energy hating Trump than dissecting facts and presenting fair and balanced news. (Personally, I’m growing weary of liberal-leaning MSNBC’s increasingly over-the-top editorial stance.) Brooks’s article opines, “Hating Trump together has become the ultimate bonding, attention-grabbing and profit-maximization mechanism for those of us in anti-Trump world. So you get a series of exaggerated fervors — the Mueller report! Impeachment! The Steele dossier! — that lead ultimately nowhere. Most of this week’s argument about the Middle East wasn’t really about the Middle East. It was all narcissistically about ourselves! Democrats defend terrorists! Republicans are warmongers!” Perhaps we’re just all too smug, judgmental and worried for our own good.

When I showed an early draft of this article to a friend, she said, “Well, that’s all well and good, but we need to hold these Trump supporters accountable!” Really?

Facebook is not a forum in which I feel comfortable sharing my thoughts and passions. I prefer to limit any socio-political posts to articles about action-oriented ways to advance liberal ideals. And, more importantly, I will continue to use The Hip Quotient as a forum to share content that encourages people to create and experience art, music, film, and literature that empower us all.

As a boob-tube loving adolescent, I was equal parts baffled and delighted by a 1969 PSA featuring a montage of clean, healthy people, cut to a suave Broadway-type tune sung in the style of Julie Andrews. Here we have a gurgling baby and a graceful ballerina, a coy debutante and a clean-cut daddy – all laughing and romping to this refrain:

VD is for everybody, not just for the few
Anyone can share VD, with someone nice as you.

Well, I didn’t know what VD was, but if it made people this carefree, I wanted someone to share it with me! I desired this VD stuff in the same way I craved what those women in the magazine tampon ads possessed: freedom, confidence, and comfort!

Ah, but all too soon I would learn all about this mysterious VD. And I would come to live in total fear of it. VD, after all, was for everybody! Was I doomed to get a venereal disease? As an ugly duckling tween surely destined to be a spinster, I ruled out all possibility of sexual intercourse as a means of transmission. But what about toilet seats? Like the 9-year-old boys in “South Park” who wore condoms all day for fear of contracting AIDS, would I need some type of protection? Maybe those tampon things would guard me! But Mommy said only married ladies wore those. Hmmm. This would trouble me for months on end. Until I learned about…DRUGS!

A body dumped in a trash heap. A man shooting up at a sink. A boy convulsing in a jail cell. These were all scenes from a grainy, graphic 1972 PSA warning against the evils of illicit drugs. This haunting black-and-white reality piece featured a catchy song delivered in the hand-clap style of a jump-rope rhyme. Although both black and white actors appear in the scenes, the song is unmistakably performed by a chorus of African Americans of all ages, stretching the boundaries of modern-day political correctness. And the “Ten Little Indians” theme of the song – nine little Indians feelin’ great, one OD’d, then there were eight – would today be considered derogatory to Native Americans. But despite all that, the video remains the most powerful anti-drug PSA I’ve ever seen. And, as a fan of realistic filmmaking and clever lyrics and rhymes, I consider it a fine example of provocative video art.

Okay, so you managed to avoid VD and steer clear of drugs. But what if poor grades prevented you from entering college? You watched PBS documentaries galore, read Camus and Kafka, but you just didn’t have the SAT scores. Well, there was a PSA for that, too — one featuring a dejected Abe Lincoln leaving an unemployment office after being told he wasn’t executive material because he lacked a college diploma. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere without that sheepskin, fella,” says a seedy-looking job rep, as he stuffs a sandwich into his mouth and wipes the mayo from his face. In 1860 a smart guy like Lincoln could become president without that sheepskin, but it would take a lot more to get ahead by 1970. That’s why the College Level Examination Program (CLEP) was established. It allowed people to gain college credits for what they’d learned on their own.

Those creative PSAs from the early 70s left an indelible impression on me: protect your private parts, say no to drugs, and avoid a life of drudgery by getting into college. I wonder if today’s young people are as daunted by public service announcements as I was 40 years ago. When was the last time you saw a PSA worth remembering?

By Dana Spiardi, Aug 12, 2013

In the early 1990s ,the Czech government sought international nuclear suppliers to help complete a partially-built Soviet-designed nuclear plant called Temelin. Westinghouse, the sole American bidder for this half-billion dollar contract, had been virtually unknown in the Soviet Union during the Cold War years. I was charged with launching a major public relations program to inform the public of the company’s capabilities.

But where to begin? Public relations wasn’t exactly a social science in the Soviet Bloc. I sought out local experts to help me understand the Czech culture and mentality. I wanted to deliver messages that mattered, in a manner that wouldn’t offend the media or the company’s potential Czech customers and partners. I must have interviewed a dozen people as possible consultants, until I finally found a man who truly had his finger on the pulse of Czech society: Michal Donath, a virtual one-man-show in the Prague branch of the global Burson Marsteller PR firm. His contributions were invaluable.We conducted numerous one-on-one interviews with many journalists and – in the days leading up to the award of the contract – organized a large press conference to answer journalists’ questions en masse. Nearly 100 reporters were able to get answers directly from the head of our nuclear energy division, Nat Woodson.

We also arranged a media tour for fifteen Czech journalists in early 1993. Within a 7-day period I took the group – which included a TV crew – to England, Belgium, Switzerland, and Spain to visit nuclear plants designed by Westinghouse. This gave them a chance to witness the technology first-hand and speak directly with our utility customers. A number of the reporters were anti-nuclear, so this PR program proved to be quite a challenge. But the resulting press coverage was generally good and provided the Czech public with an in-depth look at our capabilities as the world’s leading nuclear supplier.

It also helps if you have a good Ambassador, and we had one in the form of Shirley Temple Black, the former child star turned diplomat (photo at left). She served the U.S. in Czechoslovakia from 1989 through 1992. Ambassador Black was an energetic public servant and worked hard to help Westinghouse in its efforts to win the contract. I was thrilled to have the chance to chat with her on numerous occasions.

Throughout this 5-year PR campaign I also had the wonderful opportunity to meet with former Czech President Alexander Dubcek (photo at right, below), who attempted to reform the Communist Party in Czechoslovakia in the late 1960s. The Soviets quashed his popular movement by rolling their tanks into Prague’s Wenceslas Square in the summer of 1968, effectively ending the short-lived Prague Spring.

While we were slowly winning over the Czech public, bordering countries such as Austria had their own concerns about the necessity and safety of the Temelin reactor. They targeted Westinghouse with endless letters, all of which arrived in my office. Even Greenpeace knew my name. They once greeted me with anti-nuclear banners as I exited the customs area at the Zurich airport! Pretty scary stuff.

But In the end, our efforts paid off. Westinghouse won the contract and continues to have a presence in the country. I ended up making 10 trips to the Czech Republic in five years. The work was exciting and exhausting, fascinating and frustrating. And I wouldn’t trade one minute of those experiences – good or bad – for anything. Those years truly were my personal Prague Spring.

© Dana Spiardi