I'm sad today. Incredibly sad. 

I'm sad because I have come to believe modern American society has resigned itself to racist horrors,  faux meritocracy and rampant corruption as "good enough." 

Another wave of police murdering black citizens has crashed upon us. A corrupt government filled with grifting ignoramuses who ascended to important positions for no other reason than their wealth is pillaging its citizenry. And, with 41 million Americans unemployed, institutions that are designed to serve - like higher education and journalism - are checking their bottom line and throwing more citizens to the pile. 

I sit in a place of relative privilege. That is not lost on me. But, I ache for my black friends, hurt for friends who have been and will continue to be laid off. And I continue to be scared over the seismic gap between those who have and those do not, as well as the disappearance of compromise, empathy and selflessness. 

The best thing I've read this week is a Twitter thread from Jessica Clarendon, who is the wife of an African-American WNBA player, Layshia Clarendon. 

I am of the mindset that good journalism takes hard work. Great journalism? LOTS of hard work. So, when I came across the piece by PBS for which reporters interviewed 74 former Biden staffers, I was blown away. 

Imagine contacting, scheduling, then interviewing and processing 74  interviews. This is how journalists get at the truth. They make calls. They study. They make appointments. They are flexible. They are on the fly. They knock on doors. They make more calls. They have conversations. They ask questions. 

Dan Bush, Lisa Desjardins, Rachel Wellford and Saher Khan deserve a hand for this tenacious, persistent reporting. 

Enemy of the people?

Not even close. 

This is simple, clear.  Louisa Thomas of The New Yorker spells out the case, breaks it down and adds an exclamation point. 

And, it just crushes my soul a bit. 

I have spent a little bit of time over the last few days wondering why I am taking a court ruling so personally and the answer is so obvious: This one was supposed to be for my nieces. It was supposed to say, "You can do whatever you want -- and it counts just as much." 

These little girls and their friends... oh, bless them in their Rapinoe kits and their Alex Morgan swag. They watch and cheer. They practice and play. They make their signs and they believe. 

We are going to leave them a polluted globe with rising waters, a politically divided place that is going to be harder to get by in. I genuinely thought we could give them this, an acknowledgement that they are valued.

Not yet. Not yet.