Fiasco Fatigue

Lately I've found myself not really giving a shit about the news. I remember way back in '03 when pseudo-fascism was sweeping the nation like some latin dance craze, I used to literally salivate when the faintest whiff of scandal in the Bush administration wafted out of Washington. I used to pray daily (at my keyboard), and nightly (after I jerked off) for the undressing, the destruction, the humiliation, the reconciling of all that was so heinously wrong with our country. I used to dream about our prophet, the voice of a generation, the personification of our culture -the empty-headedness, the venality, the hypocrisy, the blood lust, the greed, the jingoism, the sanctimoniousness, the commercialism, the living, breathing, Pope of fraudulence and falsity- Bush; dying a death by a thousand cuts as the glass house he occupied came crashing down, as massively and unmercifully as the twin towers that fueled his idiot juggernaut.

I wanted my ideals, and the laws of karma, to be proven true before all the world so that they would know that I was right, and they were wrong.

I remember way back in '04 when the Republican convention came to town. What an insult, what a slap in the face I took it to be. What hubris these motherfuckers have I thought. It inspired me to start this blog. I remember the sense of purpose I felt when I went to the protest, although, I never came close to losing myself in ecstatic righteous indignation a la the 60's. Although, I must confess to pipe dreams of being the next Stephen Stills.

I remember way back in '05 telling people what a bunch of corrupt closeted fags they all were. I remember feeling downright gay myself (in the joyous sense) as the truth started to come out.

'06 and '07 have been a slow motion avalanche of bad news for the power structure. I guess as I started to sense their vulnerability the potency of my anger dissipated. My focus wandered towards other things -pussy and baseball. Still they have their strength (the ability to prolong the war) and I have succumbed to its inevitability. I no longer get a lump in my throat when the hero's roll call (names of the dead soldiers) is recited on CNN. I simply change the channel, gravitating unwittingly towards the living-room-crack of ESPN sports highlights. I don't even watch the Daily Show and The Colbert Report as faithfully as I used to. I'm simply waiting for the end.

Peace.