Armagideon Time

Year (Less Than) Zero

January 24th, 2017

The old cliche is true. Waiting is the hardest part.

No matter how bad we told ourselves it was going to be, watching it unfold makes it feel even worse — that feeling of powerlessness, flinching as each fresh blow lands even as you realize the brunt of it is landing more ferociously on someone else’s shoulders.

The wheel of dread and pleasure shows no signs of slowing down. Each moment of moral uplift or petty infusion of schadenfreude will inevitably followed by a new horror even worse than the last.

You grasp for saviors or silver linings, but in vain. There’s no last-minute reprieves or hero riding in on a white stallion, just groans of despair and another round of infighting. Understandable or not, justifiable on not, they only exacerbate the prevailing atmosphere of dread.

It feels downright unbearable, but what is there to do? This is the shit hand we’ve been dealt.

There’s little comfort to be had in the ultimately non-sustainable nature of the beast before us. It’s a litany of bad ideas and discredited concepts fished from history’s dustbin and cobbled into amateurish fanfic. It will certainly end up biting the asses of the idiots who foisted it upon the country, but not before ravaging so many others first.

Yet I refuse to give in to despair. I cannot sit this one out and trust that my particular set of cultural privileges will shield me. For one, it would be a really shitty thing to do to so many wonderful and incredible people who don’t share that precarious immunity.

Also, I really really really REALLY hate bullies, especially the smug motherfuckers who’ve convinced themselves that they are untouchable. My assets are meager and my motivations are messy, but I won’t tap out until I see the the tables turned, via what activism I can support and their own self-destructive idiocy.

There is some small solace knowing that this is not an individual struggle, but one waged by constellations of communities working collectively to Put Things Right. From each, according to ability. To each, according to need.

The night ahead is long, so let us be torchbearers, each in our own particular way.

There is another world, and this is it.

Related posts:

  1. 1983: The Year My Voice Broke – The End
  2. 1983: The Year My Voice Broke – The Horrors
  3. 1983: The Year My Voice Broke – The Toys

3 Responses to “Year (Less Than) Zero”

  1. Argh!Sims

    Sa-LUTE!

  2. Brad

    Unless global warming is dealt with, nobody’s privilege is gonna save them.

  3. SJB

    Well said sir.
    The wife and I have seriously thought about simply moving out of the country, and while flight remains attractive, we are staying in the fight in whatever ways we can (ex: donations to Planned Parenthood, Brady Center, ACLU, and other orgs are about going up)

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