Once upon a time, for about a week (that is, a very long time), we empathized with all our red and beating hearts as Tyra Banks mourned the thirty minutes that she walked around as an obese individual (and the four hours it took to get in and out of the latex suit).
In the red corner, a so-called "mobocracy" with Palin, et al., at the helm rants against big government, Obama, national debt, and other "taxation-without-representation" issues. In related news, tickets to their convention, plus keynote speech, are over $500 a pop.
And in the former capital of the Reds, a lone white American middle-class straight male kvetches that he might experience some slight discomfiture, as if he were suddenly a member of some subaltern community, as if, in one crystallizing moment, he understood what it meant to be on the business end of repression.
It was for this I wanted to prepare in my previous post. The rhetoric needs to change from one of instant gratification and momentary, shock-therapy-driven revelations. Instead of making wild promises or throwing tantrums that one political group has been capsized by another, instead of "suddenly understanding" the sum totality of a human's problems (the so-called "another's doorstep" syndrome from To Kill a Mockingbird), instead of infusing our world with a wasted rhetoric of revolution...
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