Someone I know just died in her sleep. This person and I had been at loggerheads with each other on a number of political issues for the last 30 years but I still wanted to say something nice about her — and so I came up with this: “She pissed me off so much that she forced me to come up with much more interesting and creative ways to overcome our disagreements — which has made me a better person for having known her.”
She also got me started on the road to being a political blogger — because I figured that if I could survive 30 years of local political in-fighting, then taking on Cheney and Bush would be a stone cinch!
This person’s sudden passing away also got me to thinking about how none of us are immortal. None of us. Her death came as a complete surprise to me, even a shock. If this person could die, then death could come sneaking up behind any of one of us, at any moment — and it will happen to all of us eventually. EVERYONE dies. No one is immune. No one. Not even you. Not even me.
So. As long as we have been granted the magical gift of life, it seems clear to me that we should then be duty-bound to do the absolute best that we can with what we’ve been given. Fighting, killing, war, greed, lying? That’s just a stupid waste of our time. Instead of just taking the low road, let’s spend every possible living moment striving to be the best that we can — 24/7. Think of Gandhi. Think of Jesus.
And for those of us who might sometimes envy the newly-dead, who get discouraged and occasionally wish that we too had finally Gone Home and were in some nice coffin and being sung to by a nice choir — so that we would no longer have to trudge through our days under a cloud and feel so much pain, then here’s a short lecture for you (and for me too). “We are alive now. Let’s take freaking advantage of it.”
And for those of us who are committing suicide the hard way — by letting the earth get polluted and/or eating ourselves into a coma, allowing baby-killing nuclear waste to be created endlessly across the planet, allowing greedy corporatists to tear down the forests and kill the oceans that clean and filter our air, allowing bankers to steal our homes, letting Wall Street robber barons steal our jobs, drinking ourselves to death and/or spending our time in hundreds of other ways that we KNOW are unhealthy — that’s all just a stupid waste of time too.
Life is precious. Let’s stop wasting it. It’s like the bumper-sticker says. “Life is a competition. The winners are the ones who do the most good deeds.” Let’s shape up, guys. No more killing. No more hatred. No more pollution. No more greed. Sheesh.
You would think that at some point in time our self-preservation instincts might finally start to kick in — but apparently they haven’t so far. Clearly we’ve let our world fall apart — when everyone with half a brain knows that we can do better. Much, much, much better.
So I’m grateful to the person who died recently, if for no other reason than because she gave me a huge wake-up call regarding the urgency of death — and the urgency of life as well.
“Jane, you are starting to sound like one of those wild-eyed crack-pot street-corner preachers who go around shouting, ‘Repent! The end is nigh!’” Yeah, well?
PS: One of my friends was just telling me about Star Children. “They are the new babies that are being born today and they have a raised consciousness and empathy and intuition and idealism. And they are arriving right now — now when we really need them.”
“Hey, I was a Star Child once too!” I replied. Once. Long ago. Before my idealism got all stomped on. It was really hard to be a Star Child back then — when everyone around you was either fighting Adolph Hitler, working on their atom bomb chops, enforcing segregation, cheering on Joe McCarthy or trying to be June Cleaver and the Man in the Gray Flannel Suit.
“But it’s not too late,” answered my friend. “It’s never too late to become a Star Child.”
PPS: When the human race starts to die out from war and pollution in the next 20 years, the resulting scenario will probably run something like this: All those Americans who have consistently voted for unnecessary wars, against maintaining important government services and in favor of Wall Street bailouts at the expense of the rest of us will just smile in that infuriating Mona Lisa way that they have and say, “We have nothing to worry about! We are under the protection of God and Fox News!”
And God of course will be siding with us few remaining idealistic liberal-blogger patriotic clean-environment war-resister types (still hanging on here by our toenails) who, following in the tradition of Jesus, have tried to protect the downtrodden, to seek peace and clean up the freaking air.
And all those Fox News guys like Rupert Murdoch and Glen Beck will just continue to smirk down at you from on high while you struggle to eat out of dumpsters, choke on pollution and scratch at your nuclear-waste-induced scabs. “We only needed you for cheap labor, suckers,” they’ll say — as they slam the doors of their air-purified bunkers in your faces. “And now that we have achieved our dream — more cheap labor than we will ever possibly need — there’s no longer any need for you. Sorry about that.” Not!
The Tattlesnake – Potent Political Potables Edition
The Sharron Angle
Combine equal parts chunky peanut butter, gunpowder and sacramental wine in an unclear empty vessel. Using an old blender in a narrow, dimly-lit room, mix until the consistency of baby poop. Serve in cracked teacups. Refrain from sharing the recipe with the media.
The Michele Bachmann
Mix together grapeshot-flavored Kool-Aid, sexual abstinence, Biblical nonsense, Nutty Buddy candy bars and wormwood alcohol with a thousand teabags and let ferment in a fevered brain. Serve to anyone who’ll pay attention until you’re hired by the Family Research Council after you lose your Congressional seat.
The Glenn Beck
Combine chopped nuts, saccharine, VapoRub, Victory gin, Goldschlager, white lightning, horse pucky and turpentine in a large vat lined with hundred-dollar bills. Drink until you drown.
The John Boehner
Mix equal parts Tang and cheap vodka.
Serve warm in a crockpot, after heating under a sun lamp.
The Andrew Breitbart
Mix equal parts caustic lye, near beer, used tea bags, hair of Rove, pus from a dog bite, aged McCarthyite bile and edited videotape in an Internet website. Whine until someone drinks it, but don’t attend the funeral after they do. When it eventually kills you, refuse to admit you’re dead.
The Jan Brewer
Prepare a standard pitcher of Margaritas and then add a cup of raw sewage and a cup of flop-sweat political desperation. Stir until the stench drives you away. Serve hot to morons with J. D. Hayworth crackers, Joe Arpaio pink prisoners and Tom Tancredo dip and hope for the best next election.
The Jeb Bush
Combine Southern Comfort, Rebel Yell, light tequila, orange juice, your father’s tears, family money and bought-off media contacts in a no-paper-trail electronic voting machine. Strain lightly through an old Klan robe and stir well while pretending to be affable and moderate until you’ve seized the GOP nomination for president. Just smile confidently when your drunken friends in the media write you’re nothing like you’re dumber older brother, really.
The Sean Hannity
Stir together equal parts Brylcreem, moonshine, sleaze and Preparation H, and force through a fox’s alimentary canal. Drink through a fire hose until belly is distended, then retire proudly on all of that money you stole that was supposed to go to the families of the military.
The Sarah Palin
Mix equal parts cold duck, Russian vodka, old Navy grog, Christian Bros. brandy, Slim Fast, baby formula, iced tea, mashed lipstick, grizzly bear fat, a diced dictionary, steaming bullshit and chopped currency in a Facebook-approved container. Half bake and serve cold to the media and your adoring fans while striking a pose.
The Rand Paul
Tilt your head back at a steep right angle, pour gallons of Kentucky sour mash bourbon and searing hot tea on your face, swallowing what you can of it, while furiously masturbating to a photo of Ayn Rand holding hands with Bull O’Connor. Do this until you are defeated in November.
© 2010 RS Janes. LTSaloon.org.