It Can't Happen Here...
I'm gearing up for "fight fascism" round 96, going into 2026 and 2028.
I echo the words of Sinclair Lewis’s novel-turned-play, initially adapted by Lewis and John C. Moffitt, It Can't Happen Here,
“Mr. President: As I sit and write this, a darkness like no other descends on my hometown. The air, once light with promise, is now thick with fear. The currency of grace that once moved freely through the daily discourse of our citizenry has evaporated; replaced by an acrimony so vicious as to destroy our very humanity. There is no peace to soothe our suffering, no trust to restore our faith, no empathy to inspire generosity. There is only the disease of despair and the dull ache of survival. We lie in our beds at night, Mr. President, afraid of sleep, afraid of what our dreams of tomorrow will bring. You, sir, are to blame for this. You and your ever-growing legion of Minute Men, those mercenary pirates who stand ready for your every new command to terrorize us. They roam the streets like drunken bullies, happy to intimidate anyone unlucky enough to cross their path, and hungry to beat up anyone who objects. The possibility of murder makes them giddy, and they yearn for the day when that final atrocity becomes legal. They are your henchmen, your hounds, and you bear full responsibility for every action they take and every crime they commit. I myself have waited far too long to speak out publicly against your assault on our democracy. Whether it be from comfort or apathy or pure cowardice, whether my vision was compromised by class allegiance or intellectual rigidity, I could not see what, in fact, was happening. Like some poor penitent, I kept waiting for some miracle that might restore us to sanity. But as the days have gone by, the memory of our past history, of America’s democratic legacy of civility, compromise, and respect for the fundamental rights of every person, has, like my hometown, receded into darkness. I reject you as my President, Mr. Windrip. I reject you as the man who represents the United States of America. May God look after your soul.”
I reject you as my President, DT. I reject you as the man who represents the United States of America. May hell look after your soul.
https://www.backstage.com/magazine/article/anti-fascist-movie-monologues-78467/