I felt a surge of happiness this week, and it was wrong. The president said, "I will not negotiate the full faith and credit of the United States," and everybody there was, "Yeah!" It felt great.
But feeling great isn't working out. You look up, "We will never compromise" on Google, and you get 21,000,000 results (in 0.30 seconds). Most of the the people saying it, and most of the people hearing it, feel pretty great about it.
Apparently we've all been too nice, and now we've had it. No more being nice.
"I can't talk to you," is the new way to be. If you think Obama is Hitler, I can't talk to you. If you think Obama is Hitler, you can't talk to him, nor to me, because I think you're nuts.
Ted Cruz says that allowing the government to function any longer is appeasement. Forget that he said it while standing at the center of government, and that he voted immediately afterwards to allow government to continue functioning. He meant what he said. He was elected to stop government from functioning.
So I can't talk to him. My brother Dan can't understand why we are all sheep in not questioning the standard accounts of 9/11. Of course, he can never be interviewed by respectable journalists about his questions, because they know that all his ideas have been debunked by Popular Mechanics magazine. So you just can't talk with these people.
Which people, now? Which group are we not talking to? Because I don't like NSA overreach any more than republicans (when they're out of the white house), though I don't think drones are actually going to shoot me for posting on facebook.
We eventually end up not talking to anyone, actually. That is, if we care. If we're angry, and active in our anger, then we only shout at the other side, or refuse to compromise. No more being nice. Being nice didn't work, as it brought us to this sad blockade, this hand-on-the-plunger moment.
But eventually we always lose a battle. We can't win all the time (in a democracy). Our leader (Obama or Cruz) will betray us and compromise, g*dd*mm*t, and the other side, who we hate, who we can't talk to, will strut around as though they were right and we were wrong..
Then what? We either immolate (self or otherwise), or give up. And here's where most of the country, and perhaps most of the world is now.
It used to be a third of a people were on one side, a third on the other, and a third didn't really care, Civil War, or Nazi Holocaust. But now, with so much anger, and so little compromise, I'd bet it's a sixth for, a sixth against, tops, no matter the issue, and two-thirds who do not give a sh*t.
And those two-thirds, the super-majority of humanity, truly do not give a sh*t.
Being in that large group might actually make sense, in a zen way. You and I probably aren't there yet, being part of a liberal political blog-community, but it's close. When you no longer care, you become an observer of human affairs, rather than a participant. As an observer, the prospect of armageddon (or debt-ageddon, as I heard this week), would hold some appeal, as it would at least be interesting, for however short a time. In the mean time, you chop wood, carry water. Maybe you even talk with your family, your neighbors, your co-workers, though never about politics. Never about global climate catastrophe, or general governmental default and devaluation.
Which would actually be nice. I am not addicted to conflict. I can handle a world that is not at war with itself, where people are kind. Does it require that I first give up caring about what a mess they're making of everything? Must I first allow them to wreck the planet, the economy, without my involvement, before I can enjoy this beautiful Autumn morning?
Rationalizing works, as always. If they wreck everything, then they'll see they were wrong. Then the voters will finally wake up and turn against them. Maybe then, in the end, it's all for the best, this armageddon.
Do we have the strength, the time, the perseverance to look beneath the surface. Is there some point to our caring about things beyond our power to fix. Can I care about what a mess this whole place is, this world, and still savor this beautiful morning.
It is beautiful here.