Sunday, January 08, 2006

Ellie Smeal

I've come back to my old city for a week to stay with a stranger and volunteer my time for a cause that while I do very much believe in I'm not nearly as riled up about is as I should be to be here. Anyway, I'm doing my part for the future of America even while deep in the hole of general apathy. It's truly scary this guy, Alito, and I'm serious. Watch the fucking news then extract the full scaryness of him as a Supreme Court Justice by imaginining what the media would be saying if they weren't so afraid of loosing thier jobs. Dude, this guy thinks like its 1943 all over again. This is the surface on which I can care, but the passion? Nope, haven't felt that in a couple years. Maybe it's the political heartbreak of the 2004 election that I still haven't gotten over, or maybe I'm just so fucking miserable I have lost all sense of a future. Maybe I've even been sucked in to the mass culture mind freeze, pretty soon I'll decide that going shopping is just as good as participating in the political dialogue. If Mr. Smith buys a Plazma TV, the terrorists will give up; if I buy some Diesel jeans, the Republicans will dissapear...

Is the public experience of shame amplified or diminished if you are the only one aware of your shamefullness? Today I was in a small room with about a dozen truly inspired (I assume) young women (and a couple boys) and the leaders of the Feminist Majority Foundation, sitting around a table, talking. This is not exactly what I expected when I signed up for this, its both very cool and very scary. Especially so when the Big Lady is on, leading and rightfully dominating the conversation. I am put to shame by Elenor Smeal, the prez. This woman is fucking impressive. Knows she knows everything about the women's movement and pretty much all of American history but more is adamant than arrogant and her ideas are right on, she's got an answer for everything and she beleives in the most rational way that her agenda is possible. She's seen a lot of shit. She reminds me that I suck. That I'm selfish, petty, lazy, and I talk out of my ass more than my mouth. That I'm doing this to get myself out of a slump more than to fight for what I believe.

So step one in coaxing out the confidence that's absence is ruining my fucking life is to tell the nonexistent readership of this 'blog' thing to GO FUCKING CALL YOUR SENATORS TOMORROW AND THE NEXT DAY AND THE NEXT DAY AND THE NEXT DAY UNTIL THIS PSYCHO RIGHTWING MOTHERFUCKER RUNS HOME WITH HIS GODDAM PISS-STAINED TAIL BETWEEN HIS LEGS. Fucking do it bitches, not to make me feel better, but because it will give you a little thrill (which would be considered cheap if it weren't for a good cause). Work those atrophied give-a-shit muscles just a little, then we can compare notes on wheather it does anything for the soul-sucking void inside.

Another day, another way to hide my shame.



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