Go Team Go

I went out last night with one of my conservative buddies.  He explained to me how Biden could not have won the last election.  It was impossible.  He explained to me how much corruption there is all over America.  

When I got home, I had texts from friends about the Dem Convention.  The convention is very diverse.  I wonder how they are planning to steal this election, the sneaky fucks.  But they are.  Trump is already telling his crowds so.  You know. . . bags full of fake ballots and all.  

I'm really looking forward to moving to. . . where?  That monoculture without strife.  Uh. . .  maybe I'll just check into a sanatorium.  I need some peace.  

I'm feeling punky.  Weak-ish, tired, but unable to sleep.  I skipped the gym and all physical exercise yesterday.  I hung around the house, scanned a roll of film I had developed and then developed another roll.  When I went to the kitchen sink, I stood looking at a great backhoe digging a giant trench in my yard.  Men jumped into it shoulder deep digging out whatever was left.  They took out the giant conduit that has been sticking out of the ground for a month since they were here last time.  They are laying the tubes for the underground power our town is installing.  I stood watching them work (with some horror) while I developed the film.  They must have thought I was keeping an eye on them, so I made a show of turning the canister over so they could see.  

Later, my neighbor knocked on my door.  

"Is your cable out?"

"Let me check.  No.  It's working."

For many years, one cable company had an exclusive contract with our town to be the only cable provider.  Everyone--E-V-E-R-Y-O-N-E--hated the company.  Last year, the exclusiveness came to an end and other providers lay underground cables tearing up the neighborhood and offering new services.  My neighbor was one who switched.  I, being lazy, didn't.  

"Shit. . . mine has been out since this morning.  I don't have internet, phone, t.v.. . . nothing."

"They must have cut through a cable," I said.  

"I've been on the phone for an hour trying to get someone.  Finally I got someone in India.  He said they would have someone out tomorrow.  A little while later, he called back to say they wouldn't be here until Monday!" 

There was a justifiable look of disbelief on his face.  

"They gave me a good deal on 5 gigabytes of fiber optics speed."

"I don't know. . . mine is a lot slower than that, but I don't know if I could really tell.  It's like watching a race car flying around a race track alone.  You know. . . 'wow, how fast do you think he's going?' 'I don't know. . . pretty fucking fast.'"

"Yea," he chuckled.  "I've got to go."

Later in the day, I felt the need to get outside to take a walk.  Just as I stepped out the door, it began to rain.  Fine.  I took a shower instead.  I still wasn't feeling well when I went to my mother's house, but I had to rally to go to dinner with my friend.  My mother can't hear anything I say now.  It is difficult.  

I met my buddy at five.  We had a drink and ordered dinner, argued over the problems of the cosmos, me holding there were no moral truths, that we just make up our moral values, he telling me that of course there is right and wrong.  You can do one or you can do the other.  It was the world view that I grew up with.  They taught us that in Highlights Magazine and on Romper Room.  

"Do be a Do Bee."

And truly, I prefer Gallant to Goofus, and I think it is smart to be a Do Bee.  I just don't think there is a place in the cosmos you can find these values privileged or written in stone.  I subscribe, but it is voluntary.  Not everybody does.  

My buddy would throw up some videos of the Black Lives Matter riots in Minnesota.  I would, too, if I had ready access to them.  I think it would simply be more support for what I am saying.  He, however, doesn't agree.  

But it's difficult. . . you know?  Oprah, Pelosi, Clinton, Kenan Thompson, Amanda Gorman. . . . This is a difficult party, too.  

I begin to envy my neighbor.  Cut the cable, turn off the lights. . . I just want to lie with my head in the lap of my own true love.  Politics has turned into a sporting event.  People will fight to death for the blue team or the red.  

"Go, team, go. . . fight, fight, fight!"

"Boy, that one was close."

"Bullshit.  Those fuckers cheated.  Deflate Gate, you know?  They were stealing signals.  The refs were paid off."

I may still feel off today.  Just not right.  Let's go to our secret room and hide out until it all gets settled, what do you say?

Well. . . that was a kind of cheap ending/intro to the song.  Amateurish.  Yea. . . I'm off.  But I AM the guy who made that photo at the top. . . and that, at least, is something.