Why is it so difficult for so many people to have compassion for faceless and nameless suffering? I mean, most people will help someone in front of them, or can feel bad for Captain Sullenberg who has taken a 40% pay cut and has lost his retirement. But they cannot pay attention to all of the good people losing their jobs and who are now teetering on the brink of oblivion.
In this same vein, on a more personal note, my mother’s brother has always been a strong fiscal conservative and republican. He and Mom have argued for years about politics. Six or so years ago, they were arguing about the the Patriot Act. He could not win the arguement with Mom, and in the end could only sputter an “oh you and your Constitution”. To which my mother, speechless in abject astonishment, was only able to muster an “it’s your Constitution too”. Which I am certain, fell on deaf ears.
So this may be one of those diaries, to which I will creep back later and with deep humiliation, delete it in the dead of night. After all, it was written well after the witching hour. That being said, I am going on an ignorant rant. A temper tantrum without any maturity, restraint, or a single lick of information. For your viewing pleasure, feel free to watch my head explode.
Ok. That was not my head, but you begin get the idea.
Closer, but still, not quite right. I actually think my wounds are more self inflicted and I really don’t want to show tubes of people shooting themselves. So instead, I will try to explain.
For some perverse reason I watch Morning Joe on a regular basis. Until recently, I got a kick out of the chaotic chatter of the Buffoon (or as Jon Stewert aptly named him; Jughead) and his trusty sidekicks. There is Mom played by Mika B, a fiesty liberalish (and lovely) MILF with a riding crop and a rightious centrist view. Crazy uncle Pat drops in and either lays a dab of brilliance or a splash of lunacy. Then there is the ever present unemployed bum, uncle Mike B, who is a bit of liberal parlay to uncle Pat. Oh and let us not forget Willie. Sweet little toady Willie. I think his name does more than I ever could, to describe his part in the play.
For the past couple of months I have found this an amusing way to start my day. No more, however. Jughead has finally done me in. After at least a week of listening to his drivel about how this stimulus bill is GOING TO DESTROY THE EARTH and POSSIBLY THE ENTIRE UNIVERSE, I realize that I need to step away from the morning Dick and just wait for Andrea Mitchel at noon.