The Primaries That Ate My Sense of Humor

Crap, I forgot to post all week again.  I keep intending to go back to posting regularly, and I keep not doing it, and I haven’t been able to put my finger on why.  Blogging just has not been as much fun for me lately.  Then, I read this post, and I realized that it perfectly describes how I’ve been feeling.

If you get too invested in things, there’s a point where ‘everyone’s stupid and I think it’s hilarious’ starts to become ‘everyone’s stupid and it MAKES ME FUCKING INSANE!!!!’  And I think I passed that point some time ago.  I keep drafting amusing little rants only to have them turn into vitriolic endless rants, and at some point during their composition, I leave off typing and begin circling my desk, flapping my hands around and shrieking to myself.

I grew up in the South, where nice people consider public displays of enthusiasm unseemly.  It’s understood that one has one’s political opinions, but to get yourself worked up about it is to show a level of involvement with life outside your immediate sphere that reflects poorly on your ability to manage your own affairs.  Likewise, while it’s expected that everyone be religious (in a general way), those who feel sufficiently possessed with the spirit as to go around talking about God all the time and wearing Jesus accessories are at best tacky, and possibly a little touched.  Nobody wants to be without money, but to admit of difficulties concerning it is to drop down a class level – money should simply flow, unseen and unremarked upon, into one’s coffers, as gently and steadily as rain from heaven.

All of this is to say that my blatant interest in this year’s primaries is making it difficult for me to maintain a cool, ironic detachment.  What’s needed is some perspective:

The two parties are, at heart, not very different from each other.  Neither will totally save us, or utterly damn us.  My complete lack of active (or financial) involvement in anything even remotely concerning politics (or other people, or life outside my apartment) makes any pretense of actual concern about the world in general or this country in particular hypocritical beyond all belief.  My own personal life will be unlikely to change in any significant way as a result of anything short of an apocalyptic disaster, or a profound personal attitude adjustment (which are both equally unlikely).  People are stupid, especially me, and it is hilarious.  Ten people read this blog on a good day.  I have many friends who are actually out there working real, positive changes in the world, rather than just sitting around bitching all the time.  And sometimes, it’s a blessing when the internet goes out.

To sum up:  Oh, wait, I forgot – I don’t care again!

6 Comments to “The Primaries That Ate My Sense of Humor”

  1. As one of the ten, I am happy to read your posts, even when they are rants.

  2. I second that. Actually to be frank, I prefer rants. It goes along with my requirements for friendship: If you don’t bitch about something crappy that happened in your life we can’t be friends.
    I don’t understand people who don’t rant and rave.

  3. While I sympathize, you’re the bagel I’m stuffing down their throats, and I want you to never ever be silent for this long again.

    At this point, really, it’s irresponsible not to rant. Anybody feigning detachment should be killed with an axe. It’ll all be over soon enough.

  4. There are a lot of times when I want to forget about the narcissism of politics and those who pursue careers in it. I am from a family of hippies, though, so if you don’t rabble-rouse enough during the year you get shunned at Christmas. And since all of us are either medical professionals or public servants, the personal is indeed political. All. The freaking. Time. Can’t get away from it. Which is why, yeah, I have moments when I think it’s just as well, people are dumb and I can’t do anything about it…but a month or two later some crazy culture-war maven comes along with some ludicrous piece of publicity that just rips those sutures right out and -poof!- I’m terminally furious again. So fuming + phone banking = cheaper than therapy.

    Maybe I should just accept that I’m a violent, violent girl at heart who is almost looking forward to putting a brick through someone’s window if they try to f- with my right to choose. I’ll have extras if anyone wants.

  5. Thanks all, for your support. And to be clear – I have no hesitations about ranting. I just don’t want to rant boring-ly.

    Hope and Sara, you are my sisters in generalized, baseless rage. If the three of us joined forces, and dispensed with all self-restraint and fear of the legal system, we could whip this city into shape and install ourselves as its fascist overlords. Its pretty, pretty, fascist overlords.

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