Hands up! I surrender!
Aww, Bernie...again? What the hell?!?
This is the political version of the boy who cried wolf, only the candidate cried, "I'll save us! Vote for me! Believe in me. My plans will work for everyone. No one will be marginalized or left behind!"
I doubt I'll be around to vote for a candidate I can believe again. I feel like it's the Hillary choice (no choice) farce again.
5 comments:
Hey, Crow!
LOVE to see you blogging---please blog more--I need things to read, people to talk to!
Eh, all these guys--loving none of them...
But I love you & the blogosphere!
XO
Vote local, vote state. Rebuild from the ground up. So that it doesn't matter so much who has the title of president, check, balance.
Hold your nose and vote. I'll do the same. Zhoen has good advise above.
Hi Sofie! I am with Fresca's first sentence, above. I don't see you much in the blogosphere these days and miss you!
Oh, Crow. I fear you're getting worn down by repetition. That old thing: History arrives first as tragedy then as farce. Then what? A sort of numbness which rules out responses to those prescriptions laid down in the Declaration of Independence. For eventually we see that the truths may be self-evident but they're not automatic.
So what is the answer? Should we rule out optimism? Seems like it. Optimism without a factual basis is nothing short of desperation, synonymous with hopelessness.
I am no help.
I am 84 and I'm living at a time when the odds are against my making 85. I'm not sustained by furry supernatural vapourings above the clouds. I conclude that irresistible forces - the sideswiping lorry, the invisible malign medical "thing", the impoverished thug at the street corner, the bolt of lightning - can all be ignored. Makes sense: they can't be resisted. A sort of fatalism, then? Perhaps.
What counts is internal. We start with fear. At least we may say it's a shared sensation. But beyond that are other, more human matters. I find that the prospect of death pisses me off; I resent the fact that the orange-faced narcissist is likely to outlive me. I'm not saying I deserve to outlive him but surely a trajectory like his must end in transglobal humiliation and I won't be around to warm my hands at his bonfire of the vanities. I grind my teeth at this, the very action demands an effort, and an effort may briefly displace other thoughts. Start getting pissed off, Crow. See where it takes you.
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