Fortunately, I have a lot of hair, because I've been pulling it out in clumps as I ponder the announced candidacy of Michele Bachmann and the potential candidacy of Sarah Palin for the highest office in the land. PRESIDENT Bachmann? PRESIDENT Palin? The whole idea makes Governor Ventura and Governor Schwarzenegger seem almost sane and normal.
To me, one's view of Bachmann and Palin constitutes a reliable intelligence test: If you think these two babes are smart and capable, you're an idiot. Line up all their strange quotations and bizarre notions about the world and you have a set of beliefs that is ignorant, simplistic, narrow-minded, and just plain scary. Their views on religion and homosexuality alone are enough to disqualify them from any executive position. They are, in the end, demagogues in skirts.
But, strangely enough, it is the "skirt" part that seems to work for them. Maybe our standards and expectations in politics are not as high in this regard, but I always have to grudgingly admit that Bachmann and Palin are attractive. Yes, their ideas can diminish that attractiveness a bit, but as a guy, I can say that they are easy on the eyes. Since the first telegenic Presidency--John F. Kennedy's--we have become increasingly susceptible to mere images in politics. And images now really matter. At more than 300 pounds, William Howard Taft could not be elected President in 2012. And at considerably less than 300 pounds, Dennis Kucinich looks sufficiently odd and dorky that he doesn't have a chance as long as there are electronic screens.
The whole thing doesn't say much for us these days. We're not too far from choosing the high school homecoming queen. Michele and Sarah are like a 17-year-old Buffy, or Muffin, or Midge: cute, perky, energetic, and vacuous--with a lot of school spirit. Don't you just love your freedom? Go USA!
Thursday, July 28, 2011
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Mourning the loss of a friend
Even we introverts like to have a few friends, and it appears that I have lost one.
Someone I've known for more than 30 years essentially "broke up with me" a few days ago, and I'm still sad and reflective about it. (The ultimate proof of this demise: my Facebook friend list appears to be one name shorter.) And, if I'm honest about it, I'm maybe a little angry, too.
Near as I can tell, the issue, in his mind, was that at a key point in his life, several years ago, I was too cold and judgmental toward him, and that in recent years, I was way more into me than I was into him--that is, I loved to call and talk about myself but didn't show enough interest in the joys and sorrows of his life. In the end, I have to say, point well taken. For the most part.
There are some mitigating or complicating factors. An odd feature to this relationship is that in the last 20 years, I've probably made at least 500 personal calls to him, while he's possibly made one or two such calls to me. Really. After a while, you begin to wonder who's really interested in whom. And yes, I liked to share personal stories--you know, good, bad, funny, or strange stuff that was going on in my life. But the idea that I had no interest in his life whatsoever is ridiculous on its face. Maybe I didn't ask enough questions, or the right questions, but I did ask them, more often than not. Also, I always just assumed that part of friendship is simply reciprocal storytelling--I tell you my stories and you tell me yours. If he had wanted to read me the yellow pages, I would have listened. And if my calls to him seemed like egotistical babbling, all it would have taken is a few calls FROM him with the desire to tell me a few more of HIS stories. He could have asserted who he is rather than spending what turns out to be several YEARS in quiet passive-aggressive resentment. Well, at least I know why my last two lunch invitations were met with such indifference.
The other thing that is painfully clear to me is that when you have issues, then you have a responsibility to raise them--and for me to learn in 2011 that he had an axe to grind from maybe 2004 or 2005 (can't remember the year--it's been so long that this is an estimate) is at best unfortunate and at worst unkind. Jeez, we could've talked about this stuff; we really could.
And so I am left to mourn the loss of this friend--someone who has meant a lot to me over the years. I wish him the best and hope that maybe someday all of this will change.
Someone I've known for more than 30 years essentially "broke up with me" a few days ago, and I'm still sad and reflective about it. (The ultimate proof of this demise: my Facebook friend list appears to be one name shorter.) And, if I'm honest about it, I'm maybe a little angry, too.
Near as I can tell, the issue, in his mind, was that at a key point in his life, several years ago, I was too cold and judgmental toward him, and that in recent years, I was way more into me than I was into him--that is, I loved to call and talk about myself but didn't show enough interest in the joys and sorrows of his life. In the end, I have to say, point well taken. For the most part.
There are some mitigating or complicating factors. An odd feature to this relationship is that in the last 20 years, I've probably made at least 500 personal calls to him, while he's possibly made one or two such calls to me. Really. After a while, you begin to wonder who's really interested in whom. And yes, I liked to share personal stories--you know, good, bad, funny, or strange stuff that was going on in my life. But the idea that I had no interest in his life whatsoever is ridiculous on its face. Maybe I didn't ask enough questions, or the right questions, but I did ask them, more often than not. Also, I always just assumed that part of friendship is simply reciprocal storytelling--I tell you my stories and you tell me yours. If he had wanted to read me the yellow pages, I would have listened. And if my calls to him seemed like egotistical babbling, all it would have taken is a few calls FROM him with the desire to tell me a few more of HIS stories. He could have asserted who he is rather than spending what turns out to be several YEARS in quiet passive-aggressive resentment. Well, at least I know why my last two lunch invitations were met with such indifference.
The other thing that is painfully clear to me is that when you have issues, then you have a responsibility to raise them--and for me to learn in 2011 that he had an axe to grind from maybe 2004 or 2005 (can't remember the year--it's been so long that this is an estimate) is at best unfortunate and at worst unkind. Jeez, we could've talked about this stuff; we really could.
And so I am left to mourn the loss of this friend--someone who has meant a lot to me over the years. I wish him the best and hope that maybe someday all of this will change.
Sunday, July 3, 2011
4th of July: overrated jingoism
In the community where I live, the 4th of July is probably THE biggest holiday of the year. The whole town goes a little nuts, with a morning parade; an evening street dance; a little carnival area with motorized rides, hot dogs, and cotton candy; and, of course, a massive fireworks display. What's not to like? Well, leave it to The Introvert to explain why the 4th is by no means his favorite holiday:
• It's a boozefest. In this suburb, the main form of personal recreation on "Independence Day" is continuous consumption of alcohol, for teens and adults alike. That's disgusting.
• It's crowded and noisy. People fight for spots to watch the parade--they put down rows of folding chairs at 7 am to claim their spot. The park with the fireworks is prone to gridlock. And there are all these people to walk and drive around and through. And, sorry to say, after 30 or 40 years, fireworks do lose some of their charm. I've seen fireworks in so many places that I have a bit of a "been there, done that" mindset. I'm almost out of "oohs" and "ahhs."
• It's hot and buggy. You need to have both sunscreen and mosquito repellent. And various types of smoke waft through the air from dawn to midnight.
• The various picnics going on in the neighbors' back yards aren't bad in concept, but the food is normally not much to celebrate. We vegetarians don't eat a lot of brats, and store-bought coleslaw and potato salad have some pretty cloying flavors.
• Worst of all, it's jingoistic. The 4th of July is an excuse for a lot of drunken chest-pounding by people wearing red, white, and blue Old Navy tank tops. Somehow this is regarded as "patriotic." To me it is the shallowest form of patriotism, and not to be encouraged. Our national pride should be quieter and more sophisticated. The "rockets' red glare" is nothing to glorify; war is at best a necessary evil. And the worst irony of all: if you were to ask U.S. citizens what the 4th of July commemorates, a huge percentage wouldn't have a clue. (If you doubt that claim, check: http://www.godlikeproductions.com/forum1/message1548908/pg1)
But hey, pass me a brewskie!
• It's a boozefest. In this suburb, the main form of personal recreation on "Independence Day" is continuous consumption of alcohol, for teens and adults alike. That's disgusting.
• It's crowded and noisy. People fight for spots to watch the parade--they put down rows of folding chairs at 7 am to claim their spot. The park with the fireworks is prone to gridlock. And there are all these people to walk and drive around and through. And, sorry to say, after 30 or 40 years, fireworks do lose some of their charm. I've seen fireworks in so many places that I have a bit of a "been there, done that" mindset. I'm almost out of "oohs" and "ahhs."
• It's hot and buggy. You need to have both sunscreen and mosquito repellent. And various types of smoke waft through the air from dawn to midnight.
• The various picnics going on in the neighbors' back yards aren't bad in concept, but the food is normally not much to celebrate. We vegetarians don't eat a lot of brats, and store-bought coleslaw and potato salad have some pretty cloying flavors.
• Worst of all, it's jingoistic. The 4th of July is an excuse for a lot of drunken chest-pounding by people wearing red, white, and blue Old Navy tank tops. Somehow this is regarded as "patriotic." To me it is the shallowest form of patriotism, and not to be encouraged. Our national pride should be quieter and more sophisticated. The "rockets' red glare" is nothing to glorify; war is at best a necessary evil. And the worst irony of all: if you were to ask U.S. citizens what the 4th of July commemorates, a huge percentage wouldn't have a clue. (If you doubt that claim, check: http://www.godlikeproductions.com/forum1/message1548908/pg1)
But hey, pass me a brewskie!
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