"Obama is a socialist," says
Rick Perry, according to a headline from
CNN.
And
Rick Perry is a dumb ass says
Montag. And legions of others, I would imagine.
One thing I have tried to do in this new(ish) blog is not write so much about politics, or at least not write so seriously about politics. I really felt that sometime between summer 2009 and earlier this year I lost my way, not to mention by sense of humor. As did the rest of the country.
It's been a rough go over the last couple of years, for me and for our little First World hotspot, with some good happening but some bad as well.
The good (at least for me): In summer 2009, I spent 3+ weeks in
Montréal, Québec, studying
French, something I had never formally done. (Spanish was my second language and has served me well over the years.) In these pages, you'll see a lot of homages and shout-outs to
France, Québec, and French and
Francophone culture. I enjoy French-language pop, particularly that made in France and Québec, and I'm trying to learn more about customs, heritage, history, and language of Francophonie.
My time in Montréal was sort of a paying-the-piper moment. After hanging off French culture for many a year, I figured it was time that I actually learned some French. And while I'm by no stretch of the imagination fluent or even highly capable in the language, it has paid off in little ways, even if sometimes that payoff has "just" meant more satisfaction with my life.
Doing the can-can-can: We take what we can, when we can, while we can.
I was definitely living in a bubble those weeks in Montréal--a bubble that floated along with hot-and-cold-running paté, poutine, and brie and pear sandwiches on baguette, no less. While I stayed in the dorms without a TV, I did have a computer and followed the news . . . but chiefly only the Canadian and international news. And other than an occasional foot floating ashore near Vancouver, or a serial killer loose on the prairie, there just isn't the kind of "ripped from the headlines" happenings in our dear neighbor to the north as we are used to down south.
One of the beautiful things about traveling overseas is not being American for a while. Oh, sure, everyone can soon figure it out from the accent, the clothes, the lack of foreign language skills, and the brashness mixed oddly with social conservatism and a general lack of whimsy. But still, a boy can dream of not living in an in-your-face, capitalist-a-go-go empire that, frankly, has seen better days and more interesting shopping and music,
n'est-ce pas? I like to, at least. It is perhaps my biggest regret in life, not traveling more and not taking the leap when I was younger to live outside the country. But it's not over yet. Or so I keep telling myself.
The bad: When I finally came home, I found myself in the middle of one of those very American tempests-in-a-tea-party--a national meltdown over the
Obama health insurance reform plan. How this mild-mannered, seemingly reasonable-if-imperfect approach to health insurance and healthcare reform could engender such a virulent response is still beyond me. But that it did. For weeks, months on end.
In short, many members of the
Leftist-or-Bust Community didn't think it went nearly far enough (no national, single-payer system a la
Canada and
Britain) and were completely dissatisfied.
The
Right Lunatic Fringe (sorry, folks, I see no reason to pull my punches at this late date and even treat that lot as though there were a reasonable point underneath their histrionics) kept screaming that it was "socialism" (to require everyone to have a health insurance plan? really? and mandatory car insurance is what exactly?); that is was fascism (anything that has a "requirement" to spend money on others, I guess, is fascism; "requiring" people not to have access to birth control, abortion, marriage rights, healthcare, etc., is clearly democracy in(space optional)action); that it was an extreme over-reaching of presidential and congressional power (depending on whether you were trying to knock out the POTUS or the Democrat-majority Congress as well); that if the
Founding Fathers and
John Galt were alive today . . . yadda and yadda and even more yadda.
Let me just sum up my deep thoughts on that last point as succinctly as possible: Who gives a flying fanny about what a bunch of old, upper class white dudes might think about what we're doing today? Times change. Life morphs. While we should recall, understand, and even occasionally pay homage to our history, I think it makes more sense to adapt and to not stay preserved in the amber of the past, whether the past in question is 18th-century
Enlightenment or
Common Era biblical teachings. If the FF Posse were alive today, I'm sure they would have enough trouble first adjusting to a few other realities: Easy, heavy-duty firepower,
New York during rush hour, crystal meth, rap music, and
Girls Gone Wild--let alone strict interpretations of the
Constitution in order to demonize social betterment.
And who cares who John Galt is? He's a freakin' fictional character crafted (poorly, it should be noted) by a woman embittered by her experiences in
Communist Russia and yet who still ended up taking government money when she became infirmed later in life. "Do as I say, not as I do," with really ponderous imagery.
Ayn Rand=Newt Gingrich in drag.
Oh, bitch, pleez. Do not use the trials and tribulations of the 1 percent as some sort of voodoo doll, a terrorism-lite way to silence the masses from wanting a little more responsibility and hubris from society's movers/shakers/marauders/bandits.
So, imagine, a dreamlike, wonderful time abroad, a momentary escape from the American day-to-day. Then ding-dong, open the door to your
Mystery Date--and he's a dud in the form of some fat cat (or otherwise) alleged "independent" with tea bags dangling from a tri-cornered hat. No thanks, I'll stay single.
We are not amused. And, really, two years later on, it is very, very, very difficult to be amused by any of this--a
Wacky Races approach to choosing an opposition candidate and a current administration that seems way too reliant on the
Hanna/Barbera-influenced GOP to make the case for no change at the top.
Oh, and let's not forget a very bad economy, one that has seen more mishaps than
Wile E. Coyote putting all his money on
Acme products performing well on the stock market.
Frankly, I'm disappointed all-around, at both and all sides. Disappointed that we have such poor leadership of all political persuasions (really, thinking back to the "debate" over health insurance reform, I've seen chickens form a more perfect union than the Democrats). Disappointed at the continuing use of fear to manipulate the electorate. Disappointed at the prevalence of massive amounts of cash to subvert the democratic process (or
is that now the democratic process? I can honestly not tell). Disappointed that the same ol' same ol' keeps happening. Disappointed that
nothing much seems to happen to make things better. And disappointed that we--you and me both--keep putting up with it. By rights, the Occupy movement ought to have a lot more people in the street, including yours truly.
There's nothing much funny about any of this.
And, yet, laugh we must. At least I must. Because, in part, I'm tired of grinding my teeth, yelling at the TV, and treating despair as a vegetable. The GOP debates alone are a comic delight--at least the
Twitter feeds I read about them are. Lordy, I can't bring myself to watch them. Five, seven, ten, twelve, of the most boringly stentorian white people on the planet, North American wing, that seem dogged in their intention to outdo the other in ridiculousness and outrageousness.
SimCity-based tax plans. Ending the college loan program because you believe it is the cause of bloated tuition increases and education debt. Letting those in need die because it goes against your cerebral approach to self-reliance. Closing down government departments even if you can't remember which ones. Citing Christ as putting you on the path to righteousness while you served your cancer-stricken wife with divorce papers. Being a little too weirded out by homosexuality. Existing as the technically semi-human entity known as
Michele Bachmann.
Talk about a mangy bunch of chickens.
And yet laugh we musn't because laughing, while a salve, seems also to have a soporific effect. If we laugh too much, are we lulled into a sense of complacency, a feeling that none of this really matters, that in no way can we make a difference and change who owns this country and how it operates?
Meanwhile, people in
Syria continue to die in the streets fighting for something better with no known end or outcome in sight . . .
What I've tried to do in blogging is treat it as a place for laughs, yes, but also treat it as a record of my thoughts, observations, and feelings. Amusement is certainly one aspect of my intellectual record, even if that intellectual record includes a few too many cuts on soap operas and pop. Laughing at histrionic politicos, hopped-up pundits, and the conventions of societal belief is certainly cathartic but also hopefully illuminating.
Maybe it's time to put aside my discomfort over getting menacing emails from Western state-based patriots and snarky tweets from Newt Gingrich's boot-lickers (both of which have happened in the past). I promise I'll try not to lose my sense of humor this time. But I will also aim a little higher and smarter at some of our sacred political cows.
A fair warning, though: My aim and my eyesight are not all that good. So sometimes I'll shoot from the lip and hit 'em right between the eyes. At other times, I may use a more shoot from the hip approach and find my target just above or below the belt, give or take.
