Here we go again

The more things change, the more they stay the same. Dumb platitude, but it feels true this holiday slash election slash stupid weather season. Haven't we seen this movie before? This hole in the sidewalk of American cultural insanity seems awfully familiar. Didn't it take years to crawl out of it last time? What am I talking about? I have no idea, but I suspect we haven't actually crawled out of any hole. We are not just still falling, but still digging the hole deeper. It's the American way. Rah rah rah.

So here we go again, into another stupid cold season of consumerism, fascism, and possibly alcoholism. I didn't think alcohol was my particular drug of choice, but never say never. However, when the stress hits the fan, many of us hit the bottle. I can see the appeal. The world looks better when it's somewhat blurry. The fear doesn't kick so hard while it's riding my back like a scream of wild monkeys if there's a layer of numbness. The cold is mitigated somewhat by dulled nerve endings, and the spectre of rampant shameless consumerism can easily be left on the doorstep simply by staying inside for the next month and a half (depending on how you feel about ringing in the new year). 

Speaking of ringing, I've got a new drug. 'Tis the season to experiment with remedies. I'm finding that remedies often create new maladies, which prompt a quest for new remedies. It's a vicious whirlpool that benefits only insurance companies and pharmaceutical manufacturers. And by extension, shareholders. Don't forget the real power behind the throne of commerce. Gotta keep those shareholders happy. 

Anyhoo, I'm sure you want to know all the details. Well, sorry. Not going to happen. Suffice it to say, the first drug for the vestibular paroxysmia stopped working almost the moment I set foot in Arizona. Weather occurred, as it is wont to do here, and my head went wonky with it. I blame Arizona. The drug prescribed by the neurologist stopped working. What's more, it's chipping away at my white blood cell count, which is apparently not ideal. Which leads me to mention this new drug. I've only taken three doses. So far the benefits have not appeared. However, the side effects have been interesting. 

It's too soon to know if this new drug will work. I'm sure you will stay tuned, because this drama is so interesting and you want to know what comes next. I'd write an upbeat new episode if I could, one with a happy ending. In truth, I wish I could forget all about this endless dramedy, just cancel the show, fire the writers, take it off the air, especially because this is supposed to be the most wonderful time of the year, and everyone deserves a little holiday cheer. Even the Chronic Malcontent.

Happy holidays from the Hellish Handbasket

Sliding into the season of shameless consumerism

I guess it's time to say happy holidays. Or merry effing Christmas if you prefer. Already, you scream? I know. This holiday season has come hard and fast. I was walking my four-legged master this morning and one of the neighbors had already decorated for Christmas. I ask you! It's not even Thanksgiving yet. I barely made it through Election Day. I sound so old. Probably because I am old. 

Where am I? Thanks for asking. I'm back in Scottsdale while my friends gallivant on the other side of the globe. I'm looking forward to congealing in the tub for the next three weeks. Maybe get some writing done (besides this blog). The chair I'm sitting in is a tiny bit too low, the desk is a tiny bit too high, or I can no longer sit up straight because my spine is bent, or all of the above. Whatever, I can ignore my aching carpals because there is a little dog snoring in my blankets on the bed behind me. She's like a mobile furnace. That is good because the blue sky and sunshine beyond the window belie the hollow chill of this house. It's unusually cold in Phoenix this week. Low 60s during the day. Oh, woe is me, alas, alackaday. We are hanging out in the bedroom with a space heater. 

What comes next? Who cares? I guess we watch the lunatics take over the asylum. It's mildly anxiety producing but not catastrophic from my vantage point of invisibility. The world is cracking apart, but it probably won't affect me much (unless social security evaporates, then I'm toast). In any case, this mucky dissolution is normal for humans. The civilizations we create fall apart from time to time. Go read a history book, if you can find one that hasn't been banned at your local library. If we are lucky, an asteroid China failed to nudge off course will smack into Earth and put paid to the whole thing. The Earth will continue, maybe in fragments, but don't they say we are all stardust anyway? Stardust to stardust. I ate pancakes this morning, so I'm well on my way to total annihilation. 

Where was I? Holidays, right. The winter holiday season was not all that important in my family. I think we all had ideas of how it was supposed to look. The Hallmark family sitting around the table laughing and talking and eating massive quantities of food that won't make them puke later. The perfect family enjoying the perfect holiday. Yeah, no. Not in my family. We all figured out that was not our reality and adjourned to our safe spaces to endure. Mom to the kitchen, Dad to watch football, my brother to the basement, my sister to her room, my little brother to pestering my sister, and me to my books. Not a Hallmark family. More like the family of Misfit Introverts. 

After an upbringing like that, you can imagine the holiday season isn't a big whoop for me. This is the time of year I go into stores only to buy food. I avoid anything that reeks of cinnamon and pine cones. I never go to coffee shops for pumpkin lattes or eggnog frapuccinos. I don't look for gifts, white elephants, or bargains. To me, everyday during the holidays is Buy as Little as Possible day. I would sooner eat paste than stand in line outside a Best Buy to buy a gargantuan flat screen TV, even if I had a place to hang it. Anywhere hordes of people go, I'm not. 

Now, I know some of you are thinking, wow, Carol, you are such a grinch. Lighten up, already. Go drink some wassail, eat some Chex mix, chill out, your Debby Downer routine is bringing us down. 

To that I say, go peddle your White consumerism to someone who cares. Not listening. La la la. I plan to enjoy my solitude, canoodle with the little dog, bask in the Arizona sunshine, and eat bon bons until I burst. 

Happy effing holidays from the Hellish Handbasket. 

Chaos and wreckage 2.0

As you might imagine, based on my previous posts, I would have preferred a different outcome in last Tuesday's presidential election. I've seen Orange Man 1.0, and it wasn't all that much fun. I anticipate 2.0 is going to be harder in some ways. Definitely more interesting, if you like chaos, confusion, and human wreckage. I don't want to count my chickens before they tear my lips off, but I don't expect the next four-plus years to be a walk in the park. I say four-plus because I think there's a good chance the Orange Man will be dead before 2028 and his sycophants and manipulators will hold a sham election so they can remain in power indefinitely. All the money in the world isn't enough for some people. They want all the power, too. Go figure.

My aspirations are modest in comparison to those who chase power, wealth, and fame. I'd like to say I used to have ambition, but the truth is, I was born retired. I never wanted to walk the well-trodden, rutted path of the traditional baby boomer. I just wanted to paint sunsets, write my stories, and draw goofy cartoons. By the time I realized I was destined for the poor side of the landfill, it was too late. I'm old. Unless there is some kind of divine intervention in the form of appearing on the New York Times bestseller list, I expect the balance of my life will be lived invisibly under the radar. 

I'm okay with anonymity. Invisibility can be a superpower in times of social turmoil. Still, I'd like to be part of the resistance, in some small way. I'm not a dramatic person. I can't really see me marching on Washington, even though in my last blogpost, I sounded pretty cocky about self-immolation. Don't worry. I have no plans for another road trip to the East Coast. Besides, I can self-immolate anywhere. In fact, all I have to do is take a trip next door to California. 

Time out. Full stop. What am I saying? I don't fall into rabbit holes anymore. That was the old me. Now I avoid the rabbit holes altogether. Been down there, too dark and stinky, got the N95 mask to prove it. We all went down that hole. Did you drink bleach? I didn't either. I considered it briefly, though. In my defense, I was out of my mind then, trying to keep my mother alive. Cleansing my soul from the inside out was tempting. 

All the blood we are stepping in is from my liberal compadres, lamenting as they tear their coiffed hair out and rend their designer clothes. I get it. I still haven't emerged from the painful haze of disbelief many of us share. I remember what we went through. It's beyond belief that we will go through that again. The worst part for me, though, is the nauseating awareness that Americans chose this. Apparently, we don't like freedom after all. Who knew? We kept up the pretense for so long, but I guess it was all a charade. We are just a bunch of whiny babies hoping Daddy will swoop in, kick some ass, and tell some of the bad kids to go sit in the corner while the rest of us eat cake. I am preparing to sit in the corner. 

We are one sick nation. Well, what's one more sick nation on a sick planet? This too shall pass, stardust, yada yada. We will get over our shock and horror and carry on, because that is what we do. I'm not sure we'll have our democracy for long, but let's try to enjoy it while we can. 

Crashing into the wreckage of the future

 

Here we are again. I used this image in a previous blogpost, probably in 2016. I'm sure I wrote a gloomy doomy post, bemoaning the demise of democracy. Past me could have no idea that future me would be having similar feelings in 2024, times a billion. The more things change, the more they stay the same.

I survived 2016, which was just a amateur dress rehearsal for 2020 and early 2021. After a relatively calm four years, I guess we are ready to take the cold plunge into insanity once again. We don't learn from recent history—well, any history, actually. Such arrogance. 

My friend would caution me to stay out of the wreckage of the future. I confess to a feeling of impending doom, but it's not based on anything I've actually experienced. Nobody knows what will happen. Just because a gazillion red flags have been flying all over the field for the past decade doesn't mean bad things will happen. Right?

I mean, just because a person says they plan to be a jerk the moment they can doesn't mean they really will follow through, right? I remember my mom threatening to pull the car over when my siblings and I got too rambunctious in the back seat. "I'll give you something to cry about!" she yelled. But she never stopped the car, and we never got a whupping when we got to wherever we were going. 

What comes next? Should I march on Washington, D.C.? I have little to lose. I could do another road trip, park near the White House, and set myself on fire. After contacting the media, of course. I don't want to waste my effort, not to mention it's a long drive. However, there's a chance there will only be one news outlet by the time I get there, and they will turn my sacrifice into a taunting joke. Hm. Maybe it would be better to stay under the radar, grow my own food, and wait out the hard times. Well, soon we'll all be growing our own food. And picking apples and strawberries before they rot in the fields. Supermarket shelves will be empty, so I guess we'll all be getting a lot more exercise if we want to eat.

Oh, wait, not everyone will be out there picking beans and berries, sweating in the polluted air drinking polluting water. A friend told me someone told her that millionaires have safe havens in other countries. I guess if you have the money, you can just bail on the whole thing. But don't you want to experience the imminent looting of Dollar Trees and Dollar Generals? So exciting.

Think what you will, I'm just going to come right out and say it: I'm in favor of mandatory abortion. I probably mused on this topic before, but now I'm doubling-down on my position. Humans are too stupid to live and should not be allowed to procreate.