These are, from what I can glean, the most important questions of the day, of the month, of modern life itself. Hell, what with the economy and job situation, the housing market and the overall feel and texture of the nation right now, it's no wonder Americans are, by and large, a goddamn miserable bunch. We don't like anything right now. No politician, no decision, no situation, no inhale, no exhale. We are sick to death of all of it, including ourselves.
My God, did you hear that pathetic State of the Union? That guy, that President Obama? Disappointing times a thousand, am I right? What the hell happened to him? Why is he so weak and ineffectual? Why the hell can't he step up and fix the entire planet in under 400 days like he promised he would, in my dreams and fantasies and impossible liberal grass-fed organic tofu greengasms? Doesn't he know I put a goddamn bumper sticker on my Subaru for him? I've never done that for anyone. Bastard.
He's only accomplished what, about 100 of the things I expected him to accomplish by now? Big deal. I have, like, 5,000 more. Health care reform has failed. Guantanamo is still open. Wars are still warring. Jobs are still sucking. Gays are still unhappy because the entire human understanding of love and gender in this nation has not completely transformed within a year. Infuriating!
Shall we recall just how violently disappointed those fundamentalists were when Bush bumbled off the stage, the single greatest disaster as president we will ever know? They were, of course, mostly disappointed Bush wasn't able to do far more repellant damage than he did. They wanted nothing less than full-scale war on Islam, death to all abortion doctors, creationism in schools, homosexuality banned outright, all you scary women to please stop it with your needy n' terrifying vaginas. You know, the usual.
Maybe this, then, is the ultimate upshot of our endless, self-wrought swirl of sour disappointment, of never having our impossible needs fully met, of constantly being thwarted in our desire to have the world revolve around our exact set of specifications and desires.
Re 'disappointment', I think it helps to have been in the service as a youngster. Disappointment, synergistically (1 + 1 = 11) coupled with neck-deep chickenshit, is a daily - nay, hourly - occurence and you whine, moan, bitch, snivel, and complain to no effect whatsoever because it makes you feel better and the Bigs don't give a shit what you think and you learn to just play through it.
It also helps to get old. Perhaps 'wisdom' isn't exactly the right word for what should but doesn't always come with age. Maybe 'acceptance' and the took-a-long-time-to-dawn concept that very little is as black and white as we'd like it to be and a lot of people get it wrong. Some is but an awful lot ain't and ya gotta know the difference. Frustration sucks.
As far as "needy n' terrifying vaginas", a lot of us Olde Phartes can recall needing tire chains for traction in those and don't scare easy. Ladies, we're here to help. Heh.
As serendipity would have it, I was listening to a Jimmy Buffett CD I picked up yesterday (at W**M***, shame on me...) and this song came on right after I hit 'publish yer tripe'. It kinda fits, so I went and found it for you. Enjoy.
"Better a bottle in fronta me than a frontal lobotomy"
Jimmy Buffett and The Coral Reefer Band ~ A Lot To Drink About