Ennui, anyone?
A strange thing happens to me lately when I sit down to write. For the last month, I have had a compulsion to put my thoughts on paper that was powered by a sense that by doing so, I was contributing to efforts to return our country to the proud and upstanding world citizen we were only a few short months ago. This last week, I have been overtaken by a sense of the futility of my efforts. I'm working on ways to stop that ennui.
While I know I have loyal readers here, and I know that most things I write about end up being talked about elsewhere (not through my efforts, alas, but just because I'm not the only observer of whatever-the-issue-is), it's just not enough. I feel as though I'm covering the same ground again and again, to no avail. It makes me want to sleep rather than write. I find that dangerous to my mental state.
The same sense of futility has extended to most of what I read online as well. There are always one or two surprising new subjects that writers with expertise in different areas ferret out. I'm thankful to become aware of these issues and follow their progress.
Other than those, I can skim most of the posts and say, "Yeah, knew that; yeah, that was talked about by someone/everyone last week, yesterday, last month." I get the sense it's all being repeated endlessly in hopes that someone new will wake up and read it and miraculously become aware of what's going on in the world.
Same goes for TV. The pundits I still watch are becoming fewer. The rest mostly seem to restate the obvious, in increasingly strident and frustrated tones, while they bludgeon us with the same incendiary videos, on repeat, that we've seen ad nauseam — kids in cages under space blankets, for instance.
All the while, they talk with politicians who are increasingly apologetic and blustery by turn — apologetic that they have done nothing and blustery and defensive in their self-inflicted helplessness. They seem to find it impossible to answer directly the questions the hosts put to them. They sidestep adroitly. It's to the point where most of the hosts seem to be booking more people to appear so they don't have to dig too deep into any one subject. They ask a question, get a superficial answer, and say, "Thanks, appreciate your time...next victim!"
Only three months into the Biden administration, and the Democrats' assault on democratic norms is clearly wearing us all down if I can hold myself as an example. I, and (I'm sure) others, keep waiting for someone with a clear vision and the wherewithal to cut through the BS and find a way to be heard, to step forward and pull the curtain aside in a way that is clear and unmistakable — so clear that even the more moderate among the opposition can't help but join the fray on our side.
Once upon a time, we were spoiled with the ever-present Trump tweets, which, whether you appreciated them (or him) or not, moved the public discourse needle. Now, though, the repressive tech oligarchy has manipulated things in such a way that there is no chance for anyone who disagrees with the oligarchs' leftism to use those platforms to be heard ever again.
My question is, why haven't we yet stepped up with competing platforms that are effective? The re-invention of Parler as a censored platform leaves me disinterested. We need to invent and promulgate a parallel universe to these platforms. They have been playing at being God for long enough and deserve to lose their effectiveness by being usurped by something newer, brighter, and better — something we should have the power to do (well, not me; I'm about as tech-savvy as the average retiree). There are people on our side of the equation with the lucre to bring this about. What are they waiting for?
I know that glacial speed is better than no movement, but I'm getting impatient. I don my stupid face mask, go about my mundane business, and feel the sand running through the hourglass, wishing it were time to flip it over before the damned hourglass explodes in John Kerry's new CO2-deficient, unbreatheable atmosphere.
Image: Boredom by rawpixel.com.
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