When I started blogging a couple years ago, I decided I’d be sensible four days a week and reserve Fridays for ranting. Well, like with most plans, plans changed. There have been Fridays when I was so blissed out by butterflys and beauty that I could hardly muster a bad thing to say about anybody. And there have been weeks when I was so crabby Monday through Thursday that it would take hours just to edit the profanity out of my first sentence. But I have a friendly affection for the focus of the Friday format, (and alliteration too), so I still try to bring the excitable part of my pivoting personality into play on Fridays.
How excitable, generally, am I? Let me tell you! Not very. But do I have emotional hot-buttons that can be pushed? Oh, indeed. Some of my commenters know this well, and have their jabby fingers working them nonstop. Why, just this week, one of the regulars here referred to my “blindspot” on climate. Oh-oh. The coffee stain on the wall behind my computer, where I flung and smashed the full mug, looks down upon a workspace torn asunder and turned veritably upside down in a steroid-like rampage of rage that spared nothing except the National Review cover headlining “The Case for Romney.” This cover features a hilarious Soviet-realism-style painting of Mitt holding a flag and bundles of rolled up “plans,” flanked by Paul Ryan clutching a big white binder (full of women?). They are gazing heroically into the future, which is over their shoulders, behind them. This cover was too precious to destroy even in a rage as blind as my “blindspot” on climate.
Yes, even as New York City debates how many billions it will cost to protect themselves from the rising seas, it is me, who has drawn and written warnings (in vain) about this subject SINCE THE 1980’s, who has a “blindspot.” Just imagine yourself, having reviewed the evidence of a looming, preventable catastrophe, and trying to stimulate some action on it FOR DECADES, finally to see the sickening reality of inaction crushing people’s homes and lives, and STILL be accused of being the one with a “blindspot.” Well, all I can say is TGIF.