Jack was five. In the back seat of Linda’s car, coming home from a birthday party. As he had done since his first automotive adventure exactly five years earlier, albeit in blissful silence then, he relentlessly monitored the slightest move the driver made. Not only monitored, mind you, but challenged. Now loudly and with authority. After all, he possessed the gift of sight, didn’t he, and since he was perfectly able to see exactly what the driver was doing, thank you very much, he had the right, indeed the obligation, to question every single freaking move.
Heading north on Rt 1, approaching Princeton, Jack knew full well that a left turn onto Harrison St. was the way home. So when Linda moved into the right lane, and started the right turn into the jug handle, Jack demanded to know just where did she think she was going. Linda sweetly, and with admirable restraint, explained that on certain roads, in order to turn left, one first had to turn right.
Jack instantaneously concluded and stated with absolute conviction and sheer exasperation, in the highest, reediest, littlest five-year-old voice you ever heard, “It’s George Bush’s fault!”
Imagine my misty-eyed, vest-button-popping, motherly pride when Linda recounted the power of Jack’s declaration, and his well-that’s-the-last-straw, I-don’t-know-how-much-more-of-this-shit-I-can-take take on the sad state of political affairs in our country. Clearly, I had done my maternal duty, and well. My five-year-old was a fully-indoctrinated, card-carrying member (I believe his was a Pokemon card, but still…) of the Jewish liberal forged in the 60s speak truth to power question authority impeach everybody really pissed off and you’re gonna hear about it movement.
Jack’s assessment was spot on. Not only was it, but it is still George Bush’s fault. You can blame W and the meteoric descent of our nation’s collective intelligence, civility and sanity that he so swiftly set in seemingly inexorable motion for my desperate need to take to the blogosphere. So My Head Won’t Explode.
The Big Bang of my steady devolution into the utterly flabbergasted and simply horrified person I am today was the outrageous activism embodied in the decision of the US Supreme Court in Bush v Gore. They did it. They boldly went where no court had gone before. As a five-justice microcosm of the US, or any other shadow government imperialistically installing the puppet regime, the Court crowned W and birthed the new world order. With Cheney madly manipulating the marionette, Rove as the evil ventriloquist, and Rumsfeld, Condi and Ashcroft the Greek chorus behind, lunacy ensued and my mental health declined.
And so I blog, lest I lose my alarmingly-tenuous grip. If I don’t vent, and remember to refill my meds… well, I don’t like to think about what might happen.