Leviathan arrives, with a list.

At Crooked Timber, Maria Farrell considers- at length- the British Brexit's effects on the social contract. What happens when the whole thing is suddenly torn up, abrogated, by a bunch of angry yobs with no idea for a replacement except that they rise and others must fall.

The whole thing is worth a read because in the US the *resident and his atrabilious sheeple are working up their own homebrew version.

What struck me forcibly is when Farrell puts the mess in the most human terms:

Whatever the UK does now, the trust, loyalty and affection are gone, and they won’t come back. We know we can’t plan our lives with any certainty. We know we are despised by a large amount of the country, including the government itself. We know the majority of people voted to make our lives unmanageable because they didn’t want to know or just didn’t care. We have all the hurt feelings of kids who used to be in the clique and got kicked out for some unknown slight, but still have to go to school every day anyway. And I use that metaphor advisedly, because I understand that there is something slightly child-like in this feeling of rejection.

LGBT Americans- indeed, LGBT citizens of the world- know that feeling well. We spend our whole lives with it churning inside, never relenting for more than a few minutes. It is little comfort to me that, as the administration in Washington shreds another page of my rights of equality daily, it assures me I will be protected from radical Muslim terrorists who want to behead me.