The Spirit Of Accusation

I’m not angry at Viviane Fischer. Or the “port lawyers.” Or any of the people involved in the Reiner Fuellmich mess. Not per se.

I’m angry at the plague of lovelessness that characterizes everything, and has as far back as I can remember.

The pandemic plague of resentments, always idolized, nursed, sprung unto the world—these endless messes, like chem-tr…