OK, So we're on Which side of the Looking Glass?
Guy T. Sturino
October 25, 2006
It seems now that I have no choice but to accept the fact that I’ve gone mad. It’s the only possible explanation for it. There can be no other. No matter how hard I try, I can’t arrange the pieces of the puzzle to look the same as the picture the editors of my local paper come up with.
When I first entered what is now undoubtedly an asylum, I began to work with the puzzle pieces and put the round pegs in the round holes and the square pegs in the square holes, and when I finished I would tell myself I’d done a good job. A lot of my friends agreed that I had done a good job, but those folks who write the reports always looked at my work, shook their heads and clucked a lot. Today I understand. The object was never to match the peg with the hole. The object was to rise above that simple reality. The feat was to recognize that a tool was needed. A pocket knife. Something to help shape the blocks and the board into something we imagined they could be.
So, for all these years that I’ve been reading the paper, searching for separate but related news items and trying to discern what was real, I’ve been doing it wrong. Now I know that what I was supposed to do was to decide what reality was before reading the paper, search for those items which might be useful, trash anything which might get in the way, and put the results together to make my picture – the way I want it. But, I can’t do that, so by all comparison with the norms of the editors, I am mad.
Not just mad, I’m really mad. Even though I understand what I’m supposed to do, I just can’t. No matter how hard I try I can’t bring myself to change the shape of the pegs to fit the holes, or to turn the board upside down and hide the holes. I am obsessed with the idea that square pegs go in square holes and so on. But, the editors keep trying to teach me better.
Case in point, The Virginian Pilot editorial on October 25 on endorsing a candidate for the House of Representatives. Here are the first two paragraphs of that editorial.
Thelma Drake, the U.S. representative from Virginia’s 2nd District, has grown in her job. She knows what she believes, and knows what she thinks, and impresses with her articulate, genial manner.
She knows that the War in Iraq must be won, no matter the cost. She knows that Virginia’s coast must be opened to drilling by oil and gas companies. She knows that America needs a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage. She knows that tax cuts to benefit the richest Americans must be extended. She knows these subjects backward, forward and sideways. And on every one, Rep. Drake is wrong.”
Now, it seems to me (which is why I must be mad) that given this information, I assume that even a three legged dog that barks with a lisp is better than someone who will 1) vote to endanger the environment, 2) amend the constitution to strip part of the population of their rights because of their choice of life partners, 3) steal from the poor to enhance the bank accounts of the already rich, and 4) vote to deny the right of habeas corpuses. (I just had to throw that in, but I’m mad, so just ignore it.)
Just to prove that I’m mad, the editors at the Pilot followed their first two paragraphs with this:
Despite that, the first term congresswoman deserves to be returned to Congress over her opponent, overmatched Virginia Beach Commissioner of the Revenue Phil Kellam, who seems to be running a campaign built on the fact that he’s not her.”
Duh! What did I miss? Isn’t not being her precisely the idea? Evidently not.
I refused to use my pocket knife again, so the idea that Phil Kellam isn’t running around telling everyone exactly what he will do before he gets all the inside information doesn’t bother me. What bothers me are a lot of little things.
You know, those really trivial, not worthy of much concern things we would rather not talk about. Like, protecting the environment, saving jobs, paying as we go instead of mortgaging our children’s future, remaining a constitutional democracy – with all it’s associated rights, responsibilities and privileges. Remember those? To be secure in our person and protected from unreasonable search and seizure. To be able to practice the religion of our choice, and not be forced to follow the dictates of another. To be protected from incarceration without recourse to the courts.
But, by the Pilots own admission, the needs of the community far outweigh the concerns of a nation. (It’s the typical NeoCon I-Me-Mine extended to a close group of friends.) And, our incumbent has proven that she can elbow her way up to the trough with the best of them.
But, I’m mad, and I shouldn’t be bothered by those minor, insignificant things. Or – the guys in the white coats are really inmates who have taken over the asylum, and I’m the sane one. Who knows? Who cares? The way things are going I’m not likely to find out anytime soon.
When I first entered what is now undoubtedly an asylum, I began to work with the puzzle pieces and put the round pegs in the round holes and the square pegs in the square holes, and when I finished I would tell myself I’d done a good job. A lot of my friends agreed that I had done a good job, but those folks who write the reports always looked at my work, shook their heads and clucked a lot. Today I understand. The object was never to match the peg with the hole. The object was to rise above that simple reality. The feat was to recognize that a tool was needed. A pocket knife. Something to help shape the blocks and the board into something we imagined they could be.
So, for all these years that I’ve been reading the paper, searching for separate but related news items and trying to discern what was real, I’ve been doing it wrong. Now I know that what I was supposed to do was to decide what reality was before reading the paper, search for those items which might be useful, trash anything which might get in the way, and put the results together to make my picture – the way I want it. But, I can’t do that, so by all comparison with the norms of the editors, I am mad.
Not just mad, I’m really mad. Even though I understand what I’m supposed to do, I just can’t. No matter how hard I try I can’t bring myself to change the shape of the pegs to fit the holes, or to turn the board upside down and hide the holes. I am obsessed with the idea that square pegs go in square holes and so on. But, the editors keep trying to teach me better.
Case in point, The Virginian Pilot editorial on October 25 on endorsing a candidate for the House of Representatives. Here are the first two paragraphs of that editorial.
Thelma Drake, the U.S. representative from Virginia’s 2nd District, has grown in her job. She knows what she believes, and knows what she thinks, and impresses with her articulate, genial manner.
She knows that the War in Iraq must be won, no matter the cost. She knows that Virginia’s coast must be opened to drilling by oil and gas companies. She knows that America needs a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage. She knows that tax cuts to benefit the richest Americans must be extended. She knows these subjects backward, forward and sideways. And on every one, Rep. Drake is wrong.”
Now, it seems to me (which is why I must be mad) that given this information, I assume that even a three legged dog that barks with a lisp is better than someone who will 1) vote to endanger the environment, 2) amend the constitution to strip part of the population of their rights because of their choice of life partners, 3) steal from the poor to enhance the bank accounts of the already rich, and 4) vote to deny the right of habeas corpuses. (I just had to throw that in, but I’m mad, so just ignore it.)
Just to prove that I’m mad, the editors at the Pilot followed their first two paragraphs with this:
Despite that, the first term congresswoman deserves to be returned to Congress over her opponent, overmatched Virginia Beach Commissioner of the Revenue Phil Kellam, who seems to be running a campaign built on the fact that he’s not her.”
Duh! What did I miss? Isn’t not being her precisely the idea? Evidently not.
I refused to use my pocket knife again, so the idea that Phil Kellam isn’t running around telling everyone exactly what he will do before he gets all the inside information doesn’t bother me. What bothers me are a lot of little things.
You know, those really trivial, not worthy of much concern things we would rather not talk about. Like, protecting the environment, saving jobs, paying as we go instead of mortgaging our children’s future, remaining a constitutional democracy – with all it’s associated rights, responsibilities and privileges. Remember those? To be secure in our person and protected from unreasonable search and seizure. To be able to practice the religion of our choice, and not be forced to follow the dictates of another. To be protected from incarceration without recourse to the courts.
But, by the Pilots own admission, the needs of the community far outweigh the concerns of a nation. (It’s the typical NeoCon I-Me-Mine extended to a close group of friends.) And, our incumbent has proven that she can elbow her way up to the trough with the best of them.
But, I’m mad, and I shouldn’t be bothered by those minor, insignificant things. Or – the guys in the white coats are really inmates who have taken over the asylum, and I’m the sane one. Who knows? Who cares? The way things are going I’m not likely to find out anytime soon.
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