The newspaper reads like a John Grisham novel turned
darkly unflinching. Each story more sordid and bloody than the next. Daycare
workers raping children. Cops killing black people. Black people killing cops.
Mentally disturbed people killing everyone. People—not always American—screaming
for stronger gun control laws or bans. People—usually American—screaming to
keep guns, threatening to fight to the death. And then there are the complacent.
It’s not my problem as long as it doesn’t
touch me.
CNN flips from gore and loss to the presidential
candidates as seamlessly as a preacher switching from salvation to tithes.
Hillary looks bored as she answers yet another question about emails, annoyed
as she calls for stronger police protection. Trump’s pinched face and snotty
voice negates the script he’s reading as he tries to appear in any way
presidential.
Facebook is full of pretty pictures, YouTube videos,
and food recipes. Its summer so there’s vacations and gardens and Happy Birthdays
galore. Twitter is on fire with all of it. Prayers and vacations and
#blacklivesmatter and #bluelivesmatter and #alllivesmatter and buy my new cd
and #weightloss and omg I love these shoes and save the animals and stop the
Yulin Dog Festival and #vegan, live cruelty free and #guncontrol and #love…and…and…
I can’t process it all. It’s so surreal. So insane.
My kids are clueless. They’re tiny, pasty white
creatures holed up with Destiny and
talking to their friends through a headset. My kids are missing all of it in
their sheltered little world. Part of me hesitates, do I tell them or let them
live in their vacuum? I tell them. No one can live in a vacuum. They look to me
for guidance, for answers. Blood on my hands. I’m posting nonsense like
everyone else. And they’re looking to me?
And then the segment ends. #Merica
