Of course, “all politics is local”, so the best thing to do to explore forthcoming electoral possibilities is to check in with our neighbors to see what’s up in their lives. But before we get too far down that Highway to Cynical Hell, let’s check in on my physical condition. Not much happening physiologically this week. All things considered, that’s pretty much the best outcome by far of all the possibilities. It means the seed cancers splattered around my lungs and chest cavity haven’t sprung to life and re-started their multipronged attack on my respiratory apparatus. When I was with the oncologist a couple weeks ago, I asked her what signs, symptoms and signals I should be watching for to indicate the rise of active pathology [(for some reason I think of it like a “rise of the machines” in a Terminator movie. And of course the ability to travel in time seems like it should have potential therapeutic benefits. Either I could return to the past and eliminate some of the grossest carcinogenic behaviors from my repertoire, or I could jump to the future on the assumption that at some point cancer will become a curable problem and I could pop naked (unfortunately not looking AT ALL like Arnold Schwarzenneger or Kristanna Loken) into the post-cancer world. Of course, after thinking about it for 30 or 40 seconds I remembered that Sarah Connor died of leukemia. So I’m gonna have to go deeper into the future, hoping that the Terminator Wars haven’t impaired human medical advances. Maybe it would be easier to just track Kristanna Loken through space and time as she appears naked from the ether via the nearest wormhole. Admittedly this wouldn’t help fix my cancer, but it would probably get me to forget about it at every T3 pop-in/pop-out event]… .
OK, dammit, I lost my train of thought there. Lemme look back earlier in that bloated paragraph… . Ah. There we are. Signs and symptoms of resurgent cancer. She said it could be increased pain, bleeding, trouble breathing, massive swings in mucous production…any one or more of a wide range of pathological changes in my condition. Sort of a “know it when you see it” deal, apparently. And I do pay attention. Mostly because of a now innate terror of the horrific effects of chemotherapy, which accounted for essentially all my hospitalizations over the past few years. So I live in walking dread of the week after the infusion bags are locked to my medical port. When my cancer returns, Dr. T is planning on putting me right back on the chemo drugs that were so effective at getting me to this point. We don’t have the option of going to the more advanced technology of monoclonal antibodies. We started my treatment there, and I promptly fell into anaphylactic shock and had to be put on a respirator. But I’m wondering if there’s not some other cocktail of drugs we could try, just in case they work without sending me barfing, whining, and/or barely conscious via ambulance rescue to the Emergency Departments.
Happily, at least for the moment, I don’t seem to need treatment beyond my daily regimen of painkillers and physiobalancers for blood pressure, gastrointestinal activity, anxiety, etc. In other words, I’m feeling surprisingly good for someone with a terminal illness. I intend to ride this pony as far as it’ll take me before I have to “switch horses in midstream”, as criminally underappreciated California female rock group “Fanny” from the 60s would have it. (their 90 song Rhino Handmade collection is available as an mp3 download on Amazon for the bargain price of $33. Highly recommended. No household should be without).
OK. So now we can go back to the stand-up comedy contest that is the initial marshaling of forces for the 2016 national elections. From Hillary Clinton to Ted Cruz, Jeb Bush, Scott Walker, Chris Christie, Rick Perry, Lindsay Graham, and on and on, the humor value is enormous. Of course, the comedic fun has to be balanced against the potential to really screw something up in an increasingly complex and dangerous world. This means it would be nice if we could elect somebody with half a brain and two scoops of meaningful global experience in 2016. And I’m not seeing that person anywhere between here and the horizon, otherwise known as “nominating conventions”.
Of course, should somebody meeting minimal standards of intellect and experience actually show up and run, you’d like to think the “locals” of famous political aphorisms would have the brains and ethical perspective to recognize and vote for same.
Sigh. Here in our neighborhood, the most recent insight into the state of voter’s minds was revealed by the owners of the house across the street, caddy corner to ours. This family borrowed a shitload of money against their house (given the listed value, it is apparent that they have at least two, and maybe more, mortgages). They put their kids through college, built a small collection of high end automobiles, and then simply walked away. That’s right—they stopped paying off their mortgages. Apparently they stopped making payments several years ago. The banks finally foreclosed. And the family simply packed up and disappeared. Leaving an empty house to deteriorate and drive down the value of the rest of the properties on the street. Eventually, hopefully, somebody responsible will pick the place up on a short sale or foreclosure auction. But that could take a long time. Time that will see that house falling ever deeper into thermodynamic hell as the lack of maintenance lets things slip into entropic degradation.
Sigh (again). To the degree that these people gamed the system (a not-uncommon event, search on “strategic foreclosure” for all the fun details), they’re going to win and the remainder of the neighborhood is going to lose. No wonder a complete whack job like Ted Cruz is a viable presidential candidate. Not only will the electorate not call his bluff, his dim understanding of reality and cruelly shallow thinking may be right in tune with the times.
OK. I hate to leave you all with this depressing story, but I’m afraid this is the road we’re walking as a collective social enterprise. To counter this frightening overlap of local and national politics, I suggest you take full advantage of the changing seasons. Get out and watch the songbird migration this spring. Cook outdoors all summer. Live ‘em while you got ‘em, because they are NOT forever!
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