It's early Saturday, and I didn't post last night because, frankly, I was whipped. I have a ugly cold that's been kicking my ass (my right facial sinus has, apparently, been replaced by a large wet sack of concrete), I had two loooong days of hard, grinding physical labor this week(and it's sad to admit that at 50 I no longer have the capacity to hump up and down hills all day and shake Daddy's little moneymaker all night; ugly, but there it is) and the usual kidlet-and-domestic needs...I'm tired. Tired of being desired. Tired of love uninspired...OK, sorry. I'll stop now.
(Apropos of nothing but the preceding number...wasn't Madeline Kahn effing brilliant? There was a time in the Seventies when she was probably the funniest actress working. No big thing, just saying.)
Plus, Fridays are supposed to be my day to think deep about the Big World out there and come up with some insight, a soupçon of wisdom or two, a witty epigraph to liven your day and make you want to return again and again to read the Les Propheties de Table Graphic de Feu.
And to save my life I can't think of anything.
Domestically the primary season drags on and on, enlivened only by the occasional gaffe and the increasingly goofy, "horse race" centered, personality-driven crap that passes for political discourse in this country. The inability of both the American public and our chattering class (who continue to blabber on about Obama's "problem with the white working class" as if this was anything else) to confront the nasty reality that many of my peers will refuse to vote for a black man even if it is in their own political, economic and social best interest is making me sicker and tireder than the damn head cold.We bicker about trivialities, watch our "leaders" fight to cut our own throats and ignore the vampire in the corner. Jesus wept.
And abroad, our government - OK, let's be honest and call it what it is, this fucking idiot administration - makes me feel like Charles Laughton in the old 1935 "Mutiny on the Bounty", who surveys the unpromising lot of handless dopes he's been handed by the Admiralty and drawls in his wonderfully sneering Laughtonish way: "During the recent heavy weather, I've had the opportunity to watch all of you at work on deck and aloft. You don't know wood from canvas! And it seems you don't want to learn! Well, I'll have to give you a lesson!" But I feel at a standstill. I've written and called my "representative", dropped H&I letter-rounds on the newspaper...the only thing that's kept me from going to work for the local Democratic party organization is that I simply don't have another minute in the day. I feel like nothing I do, or can do, can prevent my country from doing something suicidally stupid, like continuing to whistle past the fiscal graveyard, or insist on miring itself further in the Middle Eastern tarbaby by, say, bombing Tehran.
So the bottom line is: I don't have a soupçon or any other kind of wisdom right now. I'm feeling particularly un-wise, unhelpful and, honestly, feeling pretty fuckin' grumpy about that.
So, like any good announcer, when the game is boring and crap and the audience is getting restless I'll just have to tell some stories. And I'll be back with those in just a bit.