Seven days into the new year, but it already feels old and familiar.
Congress needs an enema, or a heart transplant. Australia is on fire, twenty-five dead, half-a-billion animals gone. Iran is shouting “Death to America!”, but what’s new there? I don’t know whether to laugh or cry when the news out of Tehran is that many were trampled to death in the frenzy to mourn Soleimani. What the hell did they expect would happen when they’re packed like sardines into a confined space? Is this genuine grief or just thousands of drama queens being ridiculous for the cameras?
The only thing I get from the ready availability of news is that nothing is normal. Everything is measured against some standard of shock value or sensational, over-the-top craziness. I’m tired of extremes. I’m tired of feeling like we’re watching the world collapse before our eyes.
Normal is a non-existent category. There is no frame of reference for normal.