And, as always:
WYFP is our community's Saturday evening gathering to talk about our problems, empathize with one another, and share advice, pootie pictures, favorite adult beverages, and anything else that we think might help. Everyone and all sorts of troubles are welcome. May we find peace and healing here. Won't you please share the joy of WYFP by recommending?
You know, all I can think about anymore when I ping around dkos is that I miss the primaries. Now that the fracus is over, we're back to difficult stuff. We're supposed to pay attention to complicated concepts and things that have articles and sub-paragraphs. Wrestling with issues and forming opinions. Actual thought. It was so much easier when all we had to do was reflexively hate on each other's peeps.
My wee little attention span longs for the drama of the delegate count. I miss passing pro-Hillary emails from friends along to my knee-jerk conservative, turbo-Christian uncle and then listening from 1500 miles away for the thick, meaty sound of his head exploding. I miss the flaming-haired outrage over each preacher-related faux-pas. I miss the amazing intellectual weight of the "Your candidate is teh d00f, troll!" comments. I long for the "Am not!" "Are, too!" days of yore.
It’s all so normal, now. We’re back to sniping at each other in lackluster, pedestrian tones. Without an opposing candidate to villify, there’s just no joy in my animosity anymore. My sarcasm is flaccid. My irony is out of tune. The snide humor that used to flow so smoothly now barely trickles in the parched creek bed of my ennui. (Lol! Nuthin' like a dead-ended English major.)
Sure there’s McCain. But, I mean – it’s McCain, for cryin’ out loud. I really can’t muster up any more energy for bashing him than he can muster up for – well – anything.
Obama has gone from revered heir apparent to OMGOMGZOMG!!!1 in a loud Riverdance of stomping feet. Congress is smelling like milk left out in the DC heat. The only thing that holds my attention about many in the senate these days is their perfect, perfect hair.
Sorry this rambles so. That’s one of the symptoms. I can’t seem to focus. I try to pay attention. But when I listen to Nancy and Steny, all I hear is the voice of the teacher from Charlie Brown. I watch Harry and find myself wondering if he actually is Charlie Brown. I even find myself doodling aimlessly when Howard is speaking, though I still have the notebook where during commercial breaks in the debates of '03, I practiced writing "Mrs. CJB Dean" in my best handwriting.
There’s a war. Well, there’s an occupation and a – whatever the hell we’re calling it in Afghanistan where troops are still dying. Right now I have an almost narcoleptic reaction to that. Stop loss and rendition and suicide and - and... There I go. I can’t absorb it. It's too constant. The outrage. It's like the sound of a pile driver in the back of my head.
Right now, the only place where my mind will actually stick after landing is in the midwest. The middle of our country is devastated. People are still assessing the breath-taking damage from the seemingly endless water. I’ve never witnessed such a slow and sneaking disaster. In slow motion over days and days, home after home, town after town succumbed to the relentless creeping blanket of water and mud. From here in Oregon, seeing the whole thing unfold was like watching something being slowly crushed. And now we watch the damage emerge. Watch the people’s shock and anguish at their losses. It’s just so damned sad.
So, now that we’ve finally gotten to the end of my meandering, that will then be my FP for this week:
I’m saddened for all of those who lost so much, including the deaths of friends and loved ones. I’m sorry it was so relentless. I’m sorry for what people will have to go through in making claims for what must be replaced. And my heart aches for what is irreplaceable. For the disappearance of priceless treasures. The destruction of heirlooms. Unrecoverable gardens. Lost pets.
If you're not from the midwest, indulge me, would you? Try to slow down for a moment at some point this evening and send a thought to the heartland: for the losses sustained, for the strength to piece lives back together, for the hope of livelihoods reclaimed.
And if you are from the midwest, know that we're all thinking about you here tonight.
Thanks for wandering with me. What’s your f*$#ing problem?