By Terry Plotkin
Sometimes I get fed up past my ears with someone or something and I am done. I am blessed and cursed with a high pain threshold. So it can take me a long time to get to a place of finality where I question my intelligence for putting up with things that should have long been discarded. Past loves come painfully to mind, crappy jobs, bullying too. The good news is I eventually, however belatedly, reach a point where I put a stop to it.
So it is with being a political junkie. I have followed the goings-on in Washington. I know most of the senators names, what they look like, how they talk, where they are from, how they vote, and what party they represent. I follow the theatre that passes for governance. I root for good things to happen. I hope that things will get better. Not any more. I should have listened to Sting when he sang, “There is no political solution to our troubled evolution.” That was over 30 years ago. I could have saved my brain a lot of verbal pollution if I had listened to him. Instead it has been C-SPAN, MSNBC, Nate Silver’s web site, Democracy Now!, Sunday morning talk shows.Spare me! Or better still, I will henceforth spare myself. The two capitalist parties can battle it out for the rest of the century and there will be little to show for it. How could it be otherwise?
No more Meet The Press or This Week. Don’t care what the Speaker says nor the Majority leader; they don’t speak for me. I don’t want to hear from the Minority leader either. Never did watch Fox News; I plan to keep it that way. Joe Scarborough can fluff himself up, talk incessantly, and interrupt people all he wants, but I won’t be listening. No milquetoast news from CNN. I don’t want to hear Amy Goodman grinding her axe, or Rachel Maddow spoon feeding me her points, or Chris Hayes and Mathews inviting guests on so they can do all the talking. Don’t want to know the polls. The majority of voters are ignorant. Don’t believe me? Listen to the morning call in show on C-SPAN and you quickly will. Or look at who they vote for. I can no longer listen to so-called journalists, who think they are wise pundits, who sit on panels without having been out where the action is, who think politics are gossip, who treat world events like sports, who say things like “at the end of the day,” and “that being said,” before they launch into another pseudo analysis of a situation they do not understand. I don’t want to hear speculation about whether Hilary Clinton will run or desire to hang on any of her words. She won’t turn things around the way they need to go unless you are from Wall St. or a neo-con. I don’t want to listen to the war drums beating and their cheerleaders masquerading as reporters. Don’t want to tune in to commercial breaks where I can hear about the side effects of medications, class lawsuits being filed, cleaning products to kill bacteria, quick food to be prepared by soccer moms, fake love, fake friendship, lies passing as information, or how to keep my penis hard. I’d rather do my morning stretches on the floor in silence than listen to that drivel. I am saturated. I can’t take any more. I can’t even say good bye. We still have very serious issues to deal with. Don’t look for the press to properly address them, and don’t look for solutions from Washington. The TV has gone silent in my house. I don’t miss it either. Who knows, maybe it will make room for clearer voices to penetrate my mind.