Good Times, Bad Times

I just haven't found anything worth ranting about lately. Tanya wants me to write about politics, but I can't get interested -- maybe when the election gets even more unavoidable, perhaps in the New Year. Otherwise, I find I have very little to say on the subject. We're so far past politics now, the Titanic's deck chairs have floated out to sea. If you've been reading this blog, you know damn well what I think about the criminals in charge of the White House, and you should have sensed my disgust at their (ahem) opposition. I think the best thing we have to hope for is a Hillary Clinton Presidency, and I'm not all that big a fan. Her quisling support of the Oil War, or her lackluster opposition, or of her manifestation of inability to know the difference, is somewhat less than inspiring. The only reason I sincerely hope she can somehow pull this off, this election, is my dream of a return of Bill's staff. Would it be too much, as the Human Years near their end, that we have sane people in charge of this particular government? Don't answer that.

Too late, people, it's all too late. Al Gore's dedication to saving the Earth, still without stating the cause of the cause of his cause, of which he surely must be aware, makes me wistful. Maybe the theft of the 2000 elections by the Bush Cabal, the last significant event of the Twentieth Century, proves that the Doomsday profits of the Millenium were correct, because with the defeat and somewhat craven surrender of the Gore Presidential team, mankind may have put the last kiss to the seal of its fate. Not that we weren't already doomed by then, but we could have gone down swinging. Now we'll go down like extras in a George Romero movie, eating the flesh of our fellow men.

For surely man has overridden the earth, and it is in its death throes. Meanwhile the mindless masses fuck on like there's no tomorrow, throwing more of their demonspawn forth upon the land, where they will starve, die of horrible diseases, or murder each other for the last crust of bread. Welcome to the American dream; you're getting what you asked for and what you deserve.

And those of us who awake, awake too late. Time to open your eyes, if only to accept. Total acceptance is all that can justify your existence now. Time to meet your God and shake his hand, for he is the devil and he is you.

Meanwhile, life goes on. The company where I work laid off a third of its work force last Friday, ten days before Christmas. One of the people I love most in the world is in jail again, a victim of her own past, her present stupidity, and a greedy and malicious society which has no remnants of conscience. And there's not a damn thing I can do about any of it. On my last trip to Galveston, there was a sweatshirt I almost bought that said "Lifeguard off duty. Save yourself." That says it all about how I feel.

But there's still a Rufus in the Christmas tree, which always gives me hope in the face of disaster. And meanwhile, my friend Nat is vacationing from his post in the federal bureaucracy and has learned to play the drums. After two years of frustration on my part, there may be a place for a true Zen legacy in Nashville after all. Maybe we can go down with our eyes wide open, and not alone.

Surely the flesh-eaters and the threshers of War will follow me all the days of my life. Amen.