When it comes to reasons for Congressfolk to fear for their lives these days, parallels between Republican and Democrat may be drawn. (A happy accident in the word parallel: the l's in it are.)
Contrasts, too.
In 2017 a man who claimed to be a supporter of Senator Bernie Sanders fired sixty rifle shots at Republican members of Congress practicing for a game of baseball, and critically wounded GOP Whip Steve Scalise. Here was the immediate response by Sanders:
"I am sickened by this despicable act. Let me be as clear as I can be. Violence of any kind is unacceptable in our society, and I condemn this action in the strongest possible terms. Real change can only come through nonviolent action."
The attack, reported the New York Times, "united Republicans and Democrats in shock and anguish." Said Republican Paul D. Ryan, then Speaker of the House: "For all the noise and all the fury, we are one family."
Things have changed. Ryan has been out of government work for years, owing to his lack of enthusiasm for Donald Trump.
And a couple of days ago, a former pro-nudity activist turned Democrat-hater broke into the San Francisco home of Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi, a Democrat, in the middle of the night. His plan, he patriotically admitted to police, was to kidnap her, after breaking her knees with a hammer. But finding her out of town, he fractured her 82-year-old husband's skull with the hammer.
And here was the response of Republican Governor of Virginia Glenn Youngkin:
"There's no room for violence anywhere, but we're going to send her back to be with him in California."
Come on, it was a joke! To Youngkin's audience.
Okay, the anti-violence part was no joke. That was just bullshit. No room for violence? Anywhere? How does so much of it get squeezed in somehow? That's Democrats' fault, according to Republicans who found room to insert partisan needles into their messages of prayer . . .
(Close your eyes, take a deep, reverent breath, and see if you can imagine being Ted Cruz in communion with his God without assuming that when it comes to Democratic troubles, you and the Almighty are sharing a dark chuckle.)
. . . and sympathy.
For Mr. Pelosi, the prayers and sympathy.
Not for Rep. Pelosi, herself.
House Minority Leader Kevin McCarthy (who once -- joke, joke -- said he would be tempted to hit her over the head with the call-to-order gavel) did reveal, after an awkward public silence (waiting for the ex-President to go first?), that he had privately voiced his concern to his fellow opposite number, but I didn't hear any sentiment of Sometimes we're all in this together.
Former Rep. Ryan showed the inadvisability of going there.
Good one, Roy.
And then there’s Richard “Bigo” Barnett, insurrectionist, who carried a stun gun and entered Nancy Pelosi’s office, where he propped his Li’l Abner boots on her desk and posed for photos.
“Bigo,” as in “big ol’ Richard,” goes on trial next month.