Politics FB

Tuesday’s Politics thread has the phrase “tip of the Weisselberg” stuck in her head.

So there’s a peek inside my brain as I type this on a Monday evening.

I’m going to be gone next week, don’t worry, I’ll make sure there’s a Tuesday thread. But I’m going to a writer’s retreat. In honor of that, here’s a thing I wrote waaaaay back in April of 2019. In the before-times. Oh sweet, summer child that I was:

Lovely dinner last night with an old friend and two co-workers of hers. Chatted first, just “how’re you doing.” Someone said, “Well, I mean, I’m ok, CONSIDERING.” Everyone held their breath for a beat. I said, “We are all one cocktail away from opening our mouths and screaming bees.”

Everyone laughed and exhaled. And this was a table full of people who agree, politically speaking. We are all there, right up on the edge. We’ve been there for a while, toes wrapped tightly around the lip of a great chasm. Occasionally, we glance down, the vertigo overwhelms us.

When we get overwhelmed, we cry and scream and laugh, sometimes all at the same time. “It’s spelled CHIEF/COUNSEL/HAMBURGERS you fucking moron!” We smack our heads with our hands, our heads on the table, and order another round. We loathe and pity the people who voted for him.


Meanwhile, they…them…THOSE PEOPLE…are having a party. They have an elephant, and they laugh when he takes a dump in the road, they point at the person who cleans it up, and tell their children “That’s what you’ll be if you don’t study and I don’t buy your way into college.”

They have a man dressed up as Jesus in a long robe with a crown of thorns, only he’s hiked up the robe and is thrusting his American flag be-Speedo-ed crotch in our faces while chanting “U-S-A……Build The Wall…..Lock Her Up……..Space Force!” His crown has two beers attached with a straw.

And we look into the chasm.

And we wait. We wring our hands, we knock on doors, and we give money, and we assure each other that yes we are all going to vote blue, no matter who, and support each other through being called snowflakes and SJW’s, and cucks, and intellectuals. And it’s like high school again.

But it’s so much worse because high school was supposed to end. We were all supposed to mature, to grow up, to be better. But we haven’t. Now we are stuck between these people and the edge. Can’t get around them, can’t get by them, can’t get through to them, that’s for damn sure.

So we are going to have to run the lunchroom gauntlet. We are going to have to put our heads down, and push through them, back to more solid ground. We are going to be mocked, shoved, and punched. But this isn’t our first lunchroom.

We know how to do this, it’s just so utterly exhausting that we have to do it all over again. Haven’t they seen the movies? Don’t they understand that we win? Do they really think they’re the good guys? It all seems pointless and ridiculous. Arc of time bending toward justice.

But it won’t bend on its own, so we have to push it, pull it, strap it down, and make it go. Engineers and architects and scientists and laborers and artists. We work to make the bend, and make the bend beautiful. While the elephant shits in the road, and they have a party.

FIN

Anyway, kick your shoes off, stay a while. Just don’t leave that wet glass on the table without a coaster. And it’s a four-day week, so that’s nice. Get your stuff done!