Are you familiar with fad-speak? Sure you are. Or do I have to give you a wake-up call? Or tell you it’s time to smell the roses? Or maybe that you need a reality check. Because if we’re on the same page, then you should be having fun yet. Unless you’re having a midlife crisis. Or if that’s on the back burner, then maybe a senior moment?
Have you ever wondered about the source of these phrases? Probably not, because you have more important things to think about. But having too much time on my hands, and not wanting to deal with more essential matters, like what to make for dinner, I confess to wasting precious minutes pondering the origins of these memes.
Kellyanne Conway. I am in awe of you. But at the same time, you are an enigma. I regard you with such a broad spectrum of feelings that I have no idea how I’ll respond to you from one day to the next. Not that you care. You don’t know me. I’m a mere speck on the electoral map. Nevertheless, you have succeeded in provoking my emotional system.
There are times I feel deep admiration for you. I think you’re very smart and I respect what you’ve accomplished. You’ve made it big in a man’s world.
Today is Tuesday, November 15th, one week after the election, and I’m sitting at my computer keyboard trying to be funny and write about anything at all as long as it has nothing to do with politics. But, as in my prior essay, I’m again trying desperately to ignore the elephant in the room. And I’m not succeeding.
Except for once or twice recently, okay, maybe three times, it’s not my thing to write about politics. Others do it far better than I ever could. But Saturday night, the opening skit on SNL took a serious turn. And Sunday morning, Andy Borowitz, who hilariously skewers politics on almost a daily basis in his Borowitz Report, was somber.
Friendships have a lot in common with a marriage. You are drawn to another person because, among other reasons, you like the same things, or he\she make you laugh, or because he is able to secure a reservation at the most popular restaurant in town.
But then an important issue arises about which you and your friend adamantly disagree. And suddenly your relationship is fodder for The Ladies Home Journal: Can This Marriage be Saved?”
Of course I’m referring to the current presidential election. I can’t recall a campaign that was this provocative or where emotions ran so high as to pose a threat to the very foundation of book clubs, canasta games, or rounds of golf.
To borrow a catch phrase from George Takei: Oh My! What a field day for the snarksters! Could we possibly be living in a better time? Pre-election daily life has turned into a satire of pre-election daily life.
Such a plethora of new material with each news cast, tweet, and so-called presidential debate, one hardly knows where to begin. It’s a 24\7 cornucopia of undignified absurdity. You can’t make this stuff up. Fortunately, or unfortunately, you don’t have to.
Our very culture is being challenged in unexpected ways. For example, many bridge players are considering an alternative to the trump card, and Aleppo is now being pronounced with a rising inflection and spelled with a question mark at the end.
Are you, like I am, ready to throw in the towel? Cry uncle? Knuckle under? Abandon hope? Turn the TV screen to the wall? Make promises to God? Then you are, like I am, suffering from the malady known as Election Fatigue, or in drug company lingo, EF. And there are still fifty-four more days to go. And presently, no known antibiotic.
Fifty-four days? No big deal. That’s less than two months. You’ve waited longer than that for a couch to be delivered. Or a baby.
But , hey, let’s keep it in perspective. This election cycle may be the longest in American history, starting a full 21 months before actual election day. That’s the equivalent of two babies — past their due date.
I know I said you wouldn’t be hearing from me until mid-September, but I felt compelled to interrupt my hiatus to comment on the current political dialogue.
You’re a liar.
No, you are.
No, you are.
You’re lying right now.
Liar, liar pants on fire.
When I started my website almost four years ago, I made a silent vow that there were three areas about which I would never write: family (husband being the exception), religion, and politics. And 86 essays later, I’ve managed to stay faithful to my promise. That is, until now.
Unfortunately, there are some temptations that are just too difficult to resist. Which is why I never keep Graeter’s ice cream or bags of chips in the house. But now I find myself in the embarrassing position of having succumbed, not to a calorie-laden, albeit, delicious food, but to the wicked and senseless need to write about Donald Trump.
For when something looms larger than life, much like the inflated giant balloons in the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day parade, the allure simply cannot be ignored.