I don’t want to talk about what is going on in Washington. But I can’t justify not talking about it. So I’m going to just say some shit and then move on.
Because I do think about it. It enters my consciousness through Facebook, NPR and Jon Stewart. Seriously? How liberal middle class of me. I read about it, diligently. I hear about it, committedly. I sign petitions, daily. But I realize – beyond my outraged intellect, it is not touching me. Which is wrong.
Why should hearing-impaired students stop receiving therapy that will let them use their voices to demand a better government? Why should government workers who live paycheck to paycheck lose their incomes, default on their rents and have to decide between gas for their cars or milk for their children? How long before they can’t afford either and have to sell their cars? Why should research about outbreaks stop at the CDC (especially while diseases prepare to spread exponentially thanks to global warming)? Why should a few white guys in Washington have the right to be petulant and why should I have the luxury of having my hair colored and cut and my nails done? I can still feed my cats—and myself. My daughter can still go to class—and to parties. The lights are still on—and the dishwasher.
What will be the breaking point when people like me have to turn on NPR to be reminded that poor losers in Washington would rather pout and shut down the government than accept a law that has been legally passed and vetted by the highest court in the union? When does “government shutdown” start to hurt everyone? Enough for the shift to happen. The masses to rise up. The enemy to retreat.
We need to feel the fingernails corkscrewing our upper arms for a wicked pinch. We need to choke on the vinegar forced down our throats. We have to wake up to the flea bites from fleas we cannot repel no matter how hard we try. We need to be sick of it. Just plain sick of it.