There’s a lot that doesn’t deserve mine
I recently saw an E-R headline (“DA calls judge’s order to return medical marijuana a ‘joke’”) about the irresponsibility of those responsible for the recent job-justifying marijuana raids on peaceful citizens of the republic. The plants our courageous peace officers confiscated are gone, and too bad for the sick people who were depending on them, people who had jumped through all the hoops they could see. That’s some serving and protecting, that is. It sounds like a good place for budget savings! Oakland just laid off 80 cops, and we obviously have a surplus.
But I don’t want to think about our intrepid public heroes and what they do. I don’t want to give any of it my attention, but to be able to write about it I have to read about it, and think about it at least a little, and then find several hundred words that say what I think I have to say by deadline. Phooey.
I also don’t want to think about Congress or nearly all of the drivel that is news. I’m hardly ever interested in the current horror anywhere but on my block. I’m as sorry as I can be from here about all the death and destruction the U.S. government causes for wealth, and if I’d been able to figure out how not to contribute to federal violence from my sporadic paychecks I’d still have it, I bet, but I wasn’t and I don’t.
I don’t accept any stories from politicians, especially if it refers to itself as a Leader. And I don’t accept stories from corporate/government news sources, since they’ll say anything for any reason, although it doesn’t matter whether the story is true or not anyway.
Even at the movies, I don’t enjoy being goaded into fear, even momentarily and virtually. I’m not opposed to a rush, but joy is always possible, so I try to pay attention to the stories I pay attention to. There’s plenty of unpleasantness to think and write about, usually in that order though not always, and that’s what I’m accustomed to do—write about what I don’t like and maybe how I’d like to fix it.
Now I don’t want to focus on what I don’t want at all, even just long enough to sneer and move on; I’m not convinced that that’s the best way to get what I want—by addressing myself to what I don’t want. I don’t think it’s worked so far—it didn’t work for Hitler, and it’s not working for the feds. Bullies always have enemies. My task is not to let any of it bother me. Done. OK, for real this time. Oh … now done. Finally. Now.