by Don Hall

You probably watched the State of the Union last night. You watched it the way you would watch a movie you already know will disappoint you or in the manner one might watch three and a half hours of YouTube videos of people challenging the authority of police. To confirm your already cemented belief. While you watched it, you followed a Twitter feed so that, blam!, you could ❤️ a tweet you agreed with.

I couldn’t watch it.

After a birthday in Sedona, AZ and the following day traipsing (yes, we traipsed) around Jerome, the idea of intentionally spoiling my mood was not unlike an impulse to take a squirrel corpse and beat myself in the face with it.

I certainly caught some of blowback on Twitter and The Book (which strangely sounds like a Richard Pryor/Gene Wilder vehicle from 1975) and the concomitant lava flow of vitriol, amazement, and horror was both expected and seemed a bit silly. Not that the FatAss Apprentice-Firing Sack of Suet and Maggots doesn’t earn each of these reactions. He does. Almost daily.

What seemed silly is that first, it is exactly what fuels him, this antagonism, this outrage. He feeds on it the way a vampire feeds on blood. Second, screaming in response to what we knew would happen without even an ounce of doubt accomplishes no more than a child in want of a Slurpee throwing himself to the sticky 7-11 floor and wailing like a banshee unless he gets it.

We knew the Senate would acquit him. We knew he would campaign dishonestly in his big TV address. We knew he would absorb the hostility and reflect back at us better, more indiscriminate hostility. We knew and yet our response is that we didn’t know and How Dare They? and What theFuck Is Wrong With These People?

The pearl clutchers watching the Super Bowl knew that a halftime show starring Shakira and JLo was going to have a lot of stripper dancing yet they sounded off as if surprised by it all (maybe they were caught off guard by the kids in cages singing or all the Spanish but probably not...)

At this point, it’s as predictable as our discourse surrounding each and every mass shooting in regards to gun control. It’s as unimaginative as our collective response to Bernie Sanders supporters, black men being shot by cops, and income inequality.

When our reactions to one another have become so foreseeable that we can all play drinking games in observation, perhaps we should disconnect a bit and reframe the situation. For a short while, actively ignore these things we know in advance will shatter any feelings of good will or enjoyment and take a collective breath. Rethink your response and be more creative.

Or justify your screaming and hope you get that fucking Slurpee.

I really hope you get the Slurpee but you didn’t get it from Comey or Mueller or Shiff…