For most of the last two years, I’ve posted sarcastic comments on the passing political scene. Several of these struck me as brilliant and insightful. As it happened, those same few observations were the only posts to attract comment. In each case, they expressed dismay.
“How could you be so cruel? Do you have not a speck of humanity, of compassion for your fellow human being? You are an evil demon. ” etc.
I speak my piece. I follow my soul’s guiding star and neither cower nor kowtow before any human. No flack, no bullshit. Anything I’ll write about somebody, I’ll say to their faces. The fact that what I say bothers people doesn’t bother me in the least. It elates me, somewhat. What I said was moving. I’m glad it made sense.
Some part of me says, Leave it at that. In the words of my friend Dennis’ grandmother, “Fuck ’em all.”
But – I’m bothered by what I said, too. I questioned several respondents to those articles closely. I’d suspected they hadn’t read the articlels clearly. But they had. Apparently, what I’d offered as innocent merriment at the expense of some loathsome spiritual dwarf, they took for abuse of a dumb animal. I picture myself as St George, skewering a lizard that exudes stench. They see a puppy-kicker.
So, I took a break. I thought, if I could see what they were talking about, I could begin a transition. I could become a new, kinder, gentler foole, putting tacks on the thrones of the most pompous asses in our culture. Or pants-ing them. Whatever.
I found, rather than thumbtacks, I wanted to pound railroad spikes up their bungholes; flick off their heads with cheese0slicers; and so on.
In short, I discovered this: I hate the cocksuckers. I hate politics in every form and forum. It’s beneath human consideration, even though it’s the most human of all traits.
Monkeys in cages or in the wild do not campaign for office. Lions, pussycats, even social animals like wolves or geese, do not lead by persuasion or choose leaders by discussion and vote. Only our kind does things this way.
All the conniving, manipulation, backstabbing and compromise only goes to show how infinitely flexible we are, mentally, morally and spiritually, how resourceful, how … universal is our range. It is an astounding panorama of the human species. We should all revel in it.
Sorry. Can’t do it. It’s like swimming in raw sewage. Looks good on paper, sounds stirring on tape. But when I dip my big toe in it … eeuuww. I can’t.
I like to think it’s the “spiritual flexibility” part I can’t stand. I like to see myself as a basically righteous man, whose only acts of perfidy result from ignorance or mindlessness, are only human and must be forgiven. Every time I skin a red light, I’m shown what that’s all about.
I hate politicians, is all. Hate politics in any form. I can’t make “fun” out of it because it affects me too seriously/ It sticks a probe into a flaw in my being, a fault in my base rock, and twists it. Thing is, hate isn’t external. No one acquires hate, or hates something outside himself unless it reflects something inside himself. Something he hates about himself.
To cut short what I perhaps should explore at length, I think I might be a compulsive politician. And I just said, I hate politics.
I don’t know if I can work this out at all, but I’m sure not gonna do it in public. .So I’m gonna focus on … wait for it…
[heavenly chord] Me. [chord rings out, leaving behind the sweet songs of various small songbirds]
I know. I’m just too precious for dreams.