November 2015, a quick Historical rant!

Ladies and gentlemen, gather round, for November 2015 was a month when the world seemed to teeter on the edge of a paradox, a kaleidoscope of human folly and courage, where the grand and the grotesque danced a peculiar waltz.

Imagine a globe trembling under the weight of its own contradictions—Paris, the city of light, cloaked in mourning as ISIS struck, leaving 129 souls lost in a barbaric requiem.

France and Russia, strange bedfellows, rained fire on Syria’s sands, while leaders like Hollande called it war, and Obama, ever the optimist, insisted the beast was “contained.” Yet the beast roared on, from Mali’s bloodied hotel corridors to the wreckage of a Russian plane, whispering of bombs. The world, it seemed, was a chessboard where knights and pawns alike bled.

Across the Atlantic, America’s political theater unfurled like a carnival of mirrors. Ben Carson, a man of quiet scalpel, soared briefly to the GOP’s pinnacle, only to stumble over tales of pyramids and West Point scholarships that never were.

Trump, that brash showman, bellowed of Muslim registries and 9/11 cheers in Jersey, stirring a cauldron of fear and fury.

Rubio and Bush, mentor and mentee, traded barbs, while Cruz, sharp as a serpent’s tooth, eyed the evangelical crown.

Clinton, meanwhile, wove her Democratic tapestry, threading Wall Street’s gold with 9/11’s memory, as Sanders cried “establishment!” from the wings. The stage groaned under promises and polls, each candidate a prophet of their own apocalypse.

Yet the streets told a humbler tale. In Chicago, Laquan McDonald’s death sparked cries for justice, while Missouri’s campus roiled with demands for respect.

Yale fretted over Halloween costumes, and Planned Parenthood’s doors, stained with blood, bore witness to a gunman’s rage.

Refugees, those weary pilgrims, became pawns in a game of borders, as governors barred Syrians and Trump mused on internment’s ghost.

The air was thick with mistrust—of Muslims, of media, of each other. Even the climate, economists warned, might steal love’s ardor in a warming world.

And so, November 2015 was a paradox: a time when humanity reached for stars and stumbled in shadows. It was truth writ large—that we are giants and dwarfs, capable of building cathedrals and burning them down.

The question, dear friends, is not what we fear, but what we choose to build when the smoke clears. Will it be walls or bridges? The answer, as ever, lies in the heart’s quiet corner, where courage whispers louder than chaos.