Shame

It occurs to me that the sense of shame, too, is a function of a sense of sanctity.  Sanctity is the sense that some people and institutions are inherently worthy of respect, that they matter, that they are important.

In the case of America, the person who occupies the office of President is not sacred–they are, in theory, subject to the same laws the rest of us are, which is what differentiates them from rulers–but the OFFICE of the President is sacred.

And that office has plainly been defiled.

If you go through life respecting nothing and no one, then you cannot respect yourself either.  Nothing matters to you.  Life is pointless, when the markers we are instinctually driven to look for and identify are missing, after a miserable and imbecilic acculturation process.

That is how you get Beavis and Butthead.  We live in a Beavis and Butthead world, and Hillary is their obvious candidate.  Everything is funny, when nothing matters.

Love–psychologically honest love–cannot exist in such a bastardized world.

The sacred matters.