on November 10th, 2012 at 08:18 pm
Where have I been? Healing. No, I didn't break anything. (I did floss one of my crowns right out of my mouth last Saturday night. Note to self: Popcorn hulls don't hide very hard. Back off on the shear force a little.) What I did is watch a number of people I've known for some time, including a few that I nontrivially care about, soil themselves hurling hatred at entire groups of people they've never met and pretty clearly know nothing about. It almost made me quit Facebook for awhile, though it's a little unclear how one actually goes about quitting Facebook. (The account of a woman I knew in college is still there even though she died two years ago.)
Reading that stuff hurts. Am I nuts? Maybe. I value friendship, for one thing, and for another, tribal hatred is the first step toward genocide. Giggle if you want. Years of research into tribalism, psychology, history, and our killer ape origins suggests that it's true. I would write more about it except that knowingly hurling yourself into depression is pretty much as dumb as it gets.
Furthermore, it stopped Ten Gentle Opportunities dead in its tracks, at least for the time being. Am I annoyed? You have no idea.
So I've been spending a lot of time in my big chair, reading things that have nothing to do with elections as a way of putting a sort of giant band-aid on my soul. It's been a mixed bag. Some quick notes:
Carol and I spent some time in Chicago. Our niece Katie turns six next week and we bought her what my sister described as "an RC helicopter in a hamster ball." It's an Air Hog Heli-Cage, which has a pair of thin plastic hoops around it, like an equator and a prime meridian, which keep crashes from becoming too serious. Needless to say, in the hands of a not-quite-six pilot, the bands earned their keep. It was amazing how quickly both girls learned to fly it, including Julie, who's only four. My brother-in-law Bill is even better, and landed the gadget on one of the blades of his livingroom ceiling fan. Wow.
Now, RC helicopters are fairly easy to describe. Not everything is. One evening, my older nephew Brian and his fiance Alexis twisted my arm into watching a YouTube video called "Gangnam Style." Words fail me. Most of the song is in Korean, except for a peculiar Greek-American interjection, "Opa Gangnam Style!" plus "Hey Sexy Lady!" here and there to prove that computer audio is working correctly. I was impressed by the young Korean chap at about 1:50 who was dancing energetically in an actinic yellow leisure suit. I didn't know you could lase polyester. Most boggling of all was the fact that the video has been downloaded 693,000,000 times, plus or minus a significant fraction of humanity. I caught myself wondering what it would be like if seven hundred million people had read Drumlin Circus. I would probably have a new minivan--and little or no trouble selling Ten Gentle Opportunities.
Anyway. I'm better now. I'll have nothing more to say about the election except for one very peculiar thing, which I will take up as soon as I understand it a little better myself. Hint: There may be a stoner stampede into Colorado next year.
In the meantime, I have a pop song to eject from the inside of my head. Listen at your own risk. About all I can say is that it's better than listening to politics on Facebook.