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One BFD at a Time
posted: 03/27/07

I am going to curse, so just get ready for that. I usually don't. I usually don't do a lot of things.

It's a rare occasion that I am moved to write anything politically motivated, or anything related to The World Condition. It's not that I don't care. My reasons for abstaining for the most part are somewhat calculated, the truth be told. In descending order of importance and relevance: 1) I rarely have any really good ideas about what to do about anything, 2) I'm sick of complaining and I'm sort of worn out from it, 3) wingnuts, and that's all I have to say about that.

Tonight, I'll make a brief exception.

Let's see. What's going on in the world as viewed from here?

  • A murderer with a high-powered rifle is killing people in the D.C. area. The latest slaying was at a gas station about 10 minutes from where I write this. I have filled up my tank there many times. Seven people are dead, two are critically wounded, one of whom is a 13-year-old boy [there was an 10th shooting and another subsequent death a day later]. How are we doing 'round these parts? Oh, it's fucking grand here. Does this nutsack with a scope have us on edge? Why yes, yes he does. Am I pissed off about it? Yes. Am I afraid? Yes. In the toe-to-toe battle between anger and fear, who's scoring higher at the moment? Anger is headed for a TKO. How many days have I been driving my vehicle on empty? Three. I am living the Seinfeld episode with Kramer and the car salesman on the world's longest test drive, further past the E than anyone has gone before, tempting fate.
  • The Resolution hath passed. I reserve comment at this point. See 1-3 above. Exception to the exception.
  • Al-Qaeda in Kuwait.
  • Al-Qaeda everywhere.
  • Osama Productions reports a brand new plan.
  • War on the economy.
  • WMD.
  • I picked up Newsweek at the grocery store tonight. The cover warns of a smallpox threat. I picked up the magazine and threw it on the conveyor with my few other items. The woman in front of me turned and looked at the cover, then looked at me. Not accusingly or weird or anything. She was probably just looking for a bit of solidarity. Because people are freaked about everything. So I gave it to her. "Because I want to worry more," I said.
  • West Nile.
  • Malaria.
  • A little event coming up called mid-term elections.

Compared to many places in the world, the above would make up a very pleasant day for sunbathing and barefoot frolicking (particularly the elections part). I realize this. Yet another reason why I rarely bitch. Still, even the most socially conscious, sandal-wearing, hemp-economy-supporting other-cheek-turner would, I think, be hard-pressed to say that things these days on the homefront are groovy. Because things are not groovy. If Bootsy Collins is the epitome of groovy, and he is, then what's coming out of the Consciousness Subwoofer of America right now sounds a lot like... Slim Whitman. Backed by Zamfir. And Boxcar Willie flat out refuses to join in. That's saying something. Jim Neighbors is all: "Well gaaaaa-leee... I'll have no part in this hoe-down." That's how bad it's gotten. Gomer won't sing. Paul Anka will not return calls.

Things are anti-groove.

My personal problem with the events of today, as I see it, in self-analysis mode, is that I'm not very good with juggling multiple crises. I'm actually, I think, fairly good in situations where things go bad. I'm no Rudy Guilliani (for instance, when my hair finally does go, I will shave my head; there will be no attempt at a combover, or a weave, for chrissake, and I will not wear a big, dumb hat to shield the obvious, like so many acoustic guitarists do in their headshots, and you know who I'm talking about... or maybe not). But I can deal. I've dealt. Things happen and I try to keep cool. I try to keep a lid on, as my friend Brian puts it. I am no... contents under pressure... thing... waiting to... pop my... lid. I just had a vision of myself as a can of Cheese Balls. I am puffed, cheese-flavored bits of nothing/something/don't ask. In a cannister. Sealed for freshness. Waiting. For you.

It's just that lately, there is such a multitude of very bad and very evil shit going down, that, well, I just can't freakin' deal. I am beginning to rage over the slightest little thing. I got really pissed off at a little, no-account search engine a few days ago and wrote their [likely nonexistent] customer service department a somewhat clear and concise, but moreover not very nice and ultimately slightly menacing and demanding email about their business practices and What I Thought They Should Do About This Matter. For example. I devoted a good half hour to this endeavor. Luckily, as opposed to my plight with another foe, I've only devoted about 20 seconds to writing about this latest experience. I count this as progress.

Here's what really upsets me, I think. This stuff goes on. This stuff with terrorism, with Iraq, with The Administration, with this fucking plinker in the bushes. And I worry about these things. I don't trust anything. I don't trust what anyone says about anything. It's probably a good thing to be somewhat cynical, a bit skeptical, to question what one is told. Frankly, I spent a heck of a lot of my life not really asking too many questions and just bumping on through. But lately, everything smells of bullshit. All of it. And despite the fact that I abhor conspiracy-theory thinking and paranoia, this Bad and Evil stuff is making me think of everything going down, it's making me question things in the most wingnutted ways imaginable. And I don't like it. My world view is being shaped and reshaped by Really Crappy Stuff. I do not like.

And by the way, I always thought the way Hunter Thompson Used Caps to Say BIG STUFF was Pretentious. But it's kinda fun, just the doing of the typing and the shift-keying. In daily life and communications, I don't capitalize anything, much to the chagrin of those who read my missives. Like that search engine company. the fuckers.

But yes. So. There are lots of Bad Things happening. And, should you elect me...

Seriously. It comes down to this: If I had the power to introduce legislature right now, my Law-Type-Thing (LTT) would be called the One Big Fucking Deal at a Time... LTT. The 1BFDAAT would require just that: only one huge-ass piece of shit thing to worry about at any one time, for anyone, man, woman or child. Because I'm realistic. I know I can't get any utopian, fix-it-all-for-everyone idilic crapola passed. Not gonna happen.

Here's where we get our groove on, how-some-ever. My 1BFDAAT LTT acknowledges that there's always going to be bad shit going down, maaaaan. But let's get that shit dropping one load at a fucking time, okay? Put it on a schedule, for chrissake. We need some time-release laxative working on this pile of bad shit, ovah heeeeah. Because people are freakin' stressed.

Le Sigh.

So what am I gonna do about it all? Really. What?

  1. I'm going to drink fake beer, but pee like it's for real.
  2. I'm going to go climbing if it ever stops raining (going easy, on account of the foot).
  3. I'm going to buy some gas. Someday.
  4. I'm going to put on Leo Kottke and Mike Gordon's Clone. It's on right now, and it's helping.
  5. I'm going to play my dobro.
  6. I'm going to watch more news.
  7. In the words of REO Speedwagon: I'm gonna keep on lovin' you. Cause it's the only thing I wanna do.

That should should just about cover it.

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