the end of the world
(part ten)
((incalculable effects))


"she said she just turned six. she's got some good jokes for a kid. she's working hard to avoid a woman bleeding from her teeth...i know that sinking feeling all too fucking well. shame, frustration setting it. confusion that eats us inside out...i don't know what's wrong with me. i don't know why she can't wake up...her life goes on despite the fact her mom lies fucked up on the cement."


stephen colbert has taken some grief from people that take themselves way too seriously over the past few days since his testimony before congress on behalf of immigrant workers last friday, sept. 24th. the serious people seemed to think that the comedian coming before congress in character as the ultra-conservative champion of "truthiness" made a mockery out of the very real issue of immigrant workers' lack of rights and drew more attention to himself than those he was supposed to be lobbying on behalf of.

in some dark, dark world, in a universe removed from reality far, far away, i suppose i can see their point. what does this comedian know about immigrant workers? his entire shtick was borne out of one whole day of real labor. but in that one day lies the sad truth that politicians are not able to own. colbert's one day was one more day than the vast majority of those that are up in arms for or against more rights for immigrant workers will ever put into the "fields" of america.

count me in that vast majority. i can't tell you how much i never want to plant something that i would eventually eat. hell, i can hardly stand the thought of cooking something that someone else has harvested for me. i am the opposite of do it yourself in most instances. i take advantage of specialists, regardless of industry, found in the yellow pages any and every time i or sarah can't figure out how to stop water from dripping out of the faucet or a river running out of our air conditioning closet or how to make our grass as lovely looking as the neighbor's (a guy i have seen on his belly in his yard pulling weeds. are you kidding me? if you ever see me belly-down in my yard, i've either had a stroke or i lost a quarter down a hornets' nest and am trying to dig it out. either way, call 911). that's just me. call me spoiled. call me whatever. i am just playing with the cards that i've been dealt in the best way i know how.

same as immigrant workers. same as stephen colbert. same as the little girl in the propaghandi song that inspired these thoughts today. the little girl doesn't remind me of me. my mom has found problems as she's gotten older, but rarely did she exhibit any behavior (other than her choice in dudes) at home when i was a kid that i felt like i had to run away from. i and my brother were sheltered for a long time from the financial difficulties that come with being a single mom. we were sheltered from the early signs of the depressive state that has captured and imprisoned her for many, many years now. we were sheltered for a long time from her poor choice in dudes. she did what she could, playing with the cards she had been dealt.

not everyone in this world is as lucky as i was and am. this world is a filthy, filthy place. if we choose to see it, we can see it online and on our televisions and in our newspapers and magazines. people are mistreated. children are born into situations that will haunt and pervert every day of their life, no matter how strong they are.

and yet, we show so little patience. we don't want to see what comes next. we flip the channel. we expect things to happen as fast as we want them to. stimulate me now. satisfy me now. 30 weeks? how much longer is it going to take to make this worthwhile for me?

colbert, after hearing the last question that would be posed to him during his testimony, stepped out of his made-for-tv character and didn't quote scripture as much as he identified where he fit into the issue by citing the context of matthew 25:40, the "least of these..." passage. naturally, rather than listening to his sentiment, his detractors poked holes in his means. "he says bad words". "he isn't really a practicing catholic. how could he be? he's friends with jon stewart." "this is the best that congress can do? a comedian?"

it's this type of mentality that is destroying our human connections. rather than finding the common-ness between humans and working for the betterment of us all, we nitpick from our comfort(zone)able chairs.

raise your hand if you hate immigrant workers as people?

...

raise your hand if you think illicit drug use is a good thing? 

...

raise your hand if you like the state of birmingham's city schools?

...

raise your hand if you like abandoned children?  

...

raise your hand if you think you are better than any one person on the face of the planet?

...

confusing the issue(s) with the means by which the issue is raised or argued is a time-honored tradition.

doesn't make it right. 

"i know that sinking feeling all too fucking well." and yet, our lives go on despite the fact, our common sense lies fucked up on the cement.