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Stephen H. Provost is an author of paranormal adventures and historical non-fiction. “Memortality” is his debut novel on Pace Press, set for release Feb. 1, 2017.

An editor and columnist with more than 30 years of experience as a journalist, he has written on subjects as diverse as history, religion, politics and language and has served as an editor for fiction and non-fiction projects. His book “Fresno Growing Up,” a history of Fresno, California, during the postwar years, is available on Craven Street Books. His next non-fiction work, “Highway 99: The History of California’s Main Street,” is scheduled for release in June.

For the past two years, the editor has served as managing editor for an award-winning weekly, The Cambrian, and is also a columnist for The Tribune in San Luis Obispo.

He lives on the California coast with his wife, stepson and cats Tyrion Fluffybutt and Allie Twinkletail.

How Capitol terrorists used their stupidity against us

On Life

Ruminations and provocations.

How Capitol terrorists used their stupidity against us

Stephen H. Provost

We all need a good laugh these days, but not like this.

If you’re like me, when you saw some of the buffoons in the mob of Capitol insurrectionists, you were probably saying to yourself, “Seriously? These bozos managed to break into the Capitol and threaten our democracy?”

One guy showed up in a Superman suit and a Trump mask. A woman dressed up as Captain America, sporting red-white-and-blue hair to complete the effect. A fellow dressed in animal skins and carrying a walking stick. There were Duck Dynasty wannabes, and dudes in cowboy hats. And, of course, the bare-chested Viking shaman dude, who looked like a refugee from a failed ’80s hair metal band. People waved or draped themselves in flags and brought homemade signs like fans at a televised football game.

“Look at me! Look at me!”

They ran around taking selfies like annoying tourists confused about whether they belonged at a Civil War re-enactment or a Renaissance fair. Or maybe they were just animatronic characters who’d escaped from Universal Studios or the Small World ride at Disney World. They looked about as (un)intelligent, and they were utterly laughable. But what they were doing wasn’t funny; it was deadly serious.

Cloaked in comedy

We’re used to seeing our villains in serious terms. They’re terrorists from the East, glaring at us from underneath kufiyahs or turbans. They’re scowling dictators in foreign military uniforms. All very serious, all very scary.

The mob that broke into the Capitol didn’t seem scary like that, but they were. And the fact that they looked harmless was part of their plan.

Right-wing extremists have been looking ridiculous for years in an effort to portray themselves as nonthreatening. We’ve dismissed them as goofballs who are just having fun.

I remember my first reaction to Rush Limbaugh’s radio show. Yeah, he was “out there,” but he was an entertainer playing to a certain audience. I dismissed him as crass and crude, but inconsequential: a bad comedian making tasteless jokes.

I was wrong.

A lot of people saw Donald Trump the same way: as a second-rate entertainer who couldn’t possibly be taken seriously... except by the kind of people who showed up at the Capitol, trying to overturn the results of an election.

I laughed at the absurdity of Trump’s claim that Barack Obama had been born in Kenya. He had to be kidding. No one would possibly believe something that idiotic, would they? I guess so. They also apparently believe Trump is trying to save the world from a bunch of Satan-worshipping pedophiles, who also happen to be socialists, which is almost worse than being gay or black or an immigrant. Almost.

Taking the bait

It would be a comedy of the absurd if the “comedians” didn’t take it all so seriously — and count on us not to. They want us to ignore them because no one stupid enough to believe in one of these Looney Tunes conspiracy theories could possible post a real threat to the seat of government in the world’s most powerful nation, could they?

These numbskulls pose a threat precisely because they’re so stupid it’s hard for anyone to take them seriously — but they’re also smart enough to use that to their advantage. And those of us who thought we were smart turned out to be the stupid ones: We naïvely thought that everyone had enough brain cells to dismiss absurd conspiracies out of hand. We overestimated their intelligence.

But they didn’t overestimate ours. They knew we were gullible enough to think the lunatic fringe couldn’t go mainstream; that we were obtuse enough to dismiss them as rubes and buffoons who didn’t pose a credible threat.

They had plenty of evidence to back them up:

  • We never thought Trump could be elected. Yet he was.

  • We didn’t think Republicans would continue to support him. Yet they did.

  • We never dreamed that social media trolls could launch a real-world coup. Oops.

  • We didn’t believe he could come within a hair’s breadth of undermining our democracy. Yet that’s exactly what happened.

Element of surprise

Their Three Stooges act was never funny, but it wasn’t supposed to be. It was a diversion to lull us into a false sense of security, so they could ambush us when our guard was down. And that’s exactly what they did when they launched their Capitol insurrection.

In doing so, however, they blew their cover. They exposed their strategy. The element of surprise is a weapon that seldom works more than once, and these nutjobs stupid enough not to wear masks in the midst of a deadly pandemic unmasked themselves. But not before they taught us a painful lesson: Stupidity and ruthlessness aren’t mutually exclusive. After four years of Donald Trump, we should’ve realized that.

Now we know.

That’s why we put 20,000 National Guard troops around the Capitol for Joe Biden’s inauguration.

Lesson learned. I hope.