Why So Serious?

(An Explanitary Note: While reading this essay, there are a few things to keep in mind. Firstly, I understand that the view I espouse changed drastically from the beginning to the end of this brief piece. My opinion stated at the end is more strongly heald than the opinion at the beginning. Second, if the tone of this piece feels weird, that is intentional.... I've been reading a lot of horror fiction, and that has been influencing a lot of what I write. Given that this is about American politics, I thought the tone was fitting. Third, this essay also uses a lot of metaphor and allusion, and I understand if it seems vauge and disjointed. Personally, I find this tack of writing more artistic. However, if you have any questions about the meaning of this essay, please just post in the comments below.)

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Ok.... time to offend people, not necessarily intentionally, but I feel like this needs to be said. Let’s see... how do I put this.... 

I’m not voting.

Yes, I said it. Let the name calling begin! “You’re not Christian! You’re un-American! You’re lazy! You’re racist! You’re not fulfilling your *insert random cultural affiliation here* duty!” Yes, yes... I am a terrible, horrible human being.

But before we burn the witch, let’s give him a moment to state his case:

What got me thinking about this whole thing in the first place was not the partisan, but the non-partisan, ads. The partisan ads have been stupid enough, what with the name calling, the wiretaps, the lies and blatant hyperbole playing upon American fear. Those have actually toned down quite a bit. I can only assume that both parties realized how distasteful those ads have been in our collective mouths.

For the past two weeks, however, I have seen a dramatic increase in non-partisan ads. These ads are not really directed at one party or another, but simply encourage the general public to “do their civic duty” and go vote. Many of these are directed at twenty somethings; those who (like me) are struggling to just get their footing and figure out their next move. They take the tack of “if you could take the future into your hands, why wouldn’t you? Are you too lazy? Do you just not care? How selfish of you! You could help your fellow Americans and the children of our beautiful nation by voting!”

After hearing several of these ads, I suddenly realized what a load of malarky this is. I am looking at the billets, and I see one dog turd being touted as superior than the other dog turd. My voting for one of the dog turds is supposed to make life for my fellow Americans better? I don’t follow.

Non-sequitur. Literally; that is what this election has become. There is no point anymore. All we are allowed to choose from are the better of two turds. The candidate that I would LIKE to vote for has been removed from the playing field. No matter how long and hard I point at him, our beautiful judicial system will simply shake its head and point back at the two turds on the sidewalk. 

“Choose one of these, the future of millions depends on it!”

At first I stare in confusion and utter disbelief. Then I start to snicker. It bubbles over; snorts coming out like an insane pig that has huffed too much EX. Then I cannot control it any longer. I break out into gut-tearing guffaws and keel over. It’s too much! The joke, they can’t see the joke. 

I’m the Joker laughing at Batman’s self-important scowl. “Two turds....*phhhhh*,” my joke has trouble coming out between the wheezing. I try again. “Two turds walk into a bar...” I lose it again. It’s too much... simply too much.

Batman mutters gutturally; something about how he’ll kill me if I don’t tell him where they are. I only have one reply:

“Why so serious?”

......... a long pause. Then he finally responds:

“What about the children?”

The Joker in me stops cold; choking on his own laugh. I finally sputter and spew some semblance of a response:

“What about them?” hostility in my voice.

“Are you really going to laugh this off? Millions of kids?”

THEIR BLOOD CALLS TO ME FROM THE EARTH. Another voice rocks the sidewalk I’m standing on, knocking me back and ripping holes in my nice purple suit. 

“Hey! That was my good--”

SILENCE, FOOL! 

I am cowed into submission; my lipstick red grin all but rotted off my face. I find myself looking back at the two turds on the sidewalk. At first they appear to remain unchanged, but there is...something off. Then I see it: a string as fine as spider silk buried deep in the blue turd. Walking over, I trace the string down the road. Suddenly I find myself at a strange Rube Goldberg machine of epic proportions. Its purpose seems to be well hidden amongst the levers, pulleys and gears. Marbles the size of my fist, all set to rocket into action... but for what purpose?

Then I see it: a small child strapped to a guillotine in the center of the massive contraption. He is crying... screaming. Why had I not heard him before? Suddenly, I realized the gravity of the situation. If I hadn’t heard the child, how many more could not hear him? The “choosing of the poo” was nearly decided. Millions were gathering around the two turds.

Could they not see? Could they not hear?

I was wrong... so, so wrong. Millions of lives WERE at stake. So wrong. Dear God... what have we done...?

FEED ME! (Becoming an Adventurer Part I)

I spend a lot of time in video stores. I have probably spent hours upon hours in them; perhaps even as much time as a stay at home parent might spend at their local grocery store. This never struck me as abnormal until a day ago.

After 3 fun filled weeks with family and friends, the last week of my winter break was upon me and my family had all but returned to their everyday routine. Dad was back at work, the girls were headed out of town and my mom and her own dad were headed on a short holiday to DC. For the first time in 3 whole weeks I was going to be on my own again. Naturally I didn’t want to spend the majority of the next 48 hours alone in a big empty house, so I hit the town.

In between lunch and heading to a movie theater, I stopped in an FYE (For Your Entertainment). It is one of the largest I have ever been in, and I used to frequent it when I was a permanent fixture of the Hampton Roads area. Upon walking in I stopped and felt suddenly overwhelmed. It might have been that I was tired, or maybe I have just been hypersensitive about entertainment lately; but for whatever reason, when I walked in the door, I lost all desire to look for individual items, whether they were movies, music or video games. I was suddenly looking at the store as a whole, and all I could say was:

“Why?”

Why do we need stores that have as large a variety of movies as we do of food? In fact, there was probably a larger variety of sitcoms on DVD in that store than there are kinds of produce at the Farm Fresh around the corner.

Dizziness overwhelmed me as I realized that I had been part of this. I suck in movies often without thinking. Sure, I keep up a veneer of holiness to hide how much I am consuming, but that is something akin to a man who is 200 pounds overweight telling you that he only eats so much because he wants to tell you what kinds of food are good. He is not a cook, he is not demonstrating that he has actually learned anything about good food or how to make it… only that he enjoys eating and he does it with disregard to how it is effecting him.

The scary thing is that in America the way food and movies are sold and consumed is not so different anymore. A shiny, glossy cover can make a tidy little profit whether it’s carrots or Caddyshack. People buy Ho Hos and porn for the same reason… they taste good, even if they both make you feel like you want to vomit an hour after consumption. What is scarier is that an HBO show can now become “critically acclaimed” simply by containing gratuitous amounts of violence and sex, causing it be suddenly be “edgy” and/or “gritty,” even though underneath all that it is just another soap opera. This has already begun to bleed over into the world of food, with foods that are absolutely crap for you to eat getting actual stickers that proclaim that they have received awards like “BEST TASTING” or “CHIEFS’ CHOICE AWARD.” Yes… things are getting that ridiculous.

Just today I was returning some things to a Best Buy around the corner from me and got suckered into that very “ooh! Shiny!” syndrome that we all fall into so easily in the internet age. Do I not know that Satan is the Prince of Light? Do I not know that covers deceive? “That sin looks so hot!” one might say. And Mark Driscoll might retort: “Yeah… but so is hell.”

Anyway, I had all this money from the returns, so my consumeristic self decided that I show blow the money immediately. On what? Is always the next question. Well, it was new release Tuesday. (Yes, I am so consumed with my need for new stuff that I know that in the USA new movies, music and books are always released on Tuesdays.) The new HBO show Boardwalk Empire had just been released on DVD and a free preview of the show Game of Thrones came with it for a limited time. The covers looked pretty, Steve Buscemi was in it, it had won 8 Emmys. It must be good… right? RIGHT?

Well, I bought it and took it home, only to look up the content rating in IMDB. The show was filled with foul language… more than most R rated movies contain, full frontal nudity (male and female), and buckets of blood and brain bashing. On an HBO show? No way? You’ve gotta be joking! (/sarcasm)

I promptly went back and returned the DVD set and got the movie Moon instead, which I had actually been looking for for months and which was nowhere near an impulse buy. It still might have been better had I simply returned Boardwalk Empire and walked right out of the store, but there you have it.

And now I’m sitting here still thinking, “Why? Why has this been so important to me? How on earth did I let my standards drop so much? I almost exposed myself to… ick.”

And then I think a little bit more and I realize that I have been living vicariously through storytellers… like many of my peers have. We are too afraid to have our own adventures, so we watch other peoples’. And suddenly I come to a simple and yet monumental conclusion: it is time for me to have my own adventure.