There is an unsettling paradox that erupts when you meet other sensitive, like-minded couples in New York who loathe the current U.S. government - you're insanely pleased to be around a few people that feel the same way you do, but the conversations always devolve into sad, what-do-we-do-now treatises without conclusion. In a country that is apparently so rabidly gullible, it's awesome to meet a group of people that share your horror, because it makes you feel less abandoned when you read the Gallup polls. However, without the soothing balm of someone who isn't worried about the state of the country, certain dinner parties can be emotionally exhausting.
We had supper at Gail Segal's house tonight, and it was a great crowd of world travelers and funny folks in the media business. After an hour of mutual kvetching, I asked everybody how they felt about living in a country where you never agree with the average guy anymore, and nobody had easy answers.
I am truly the leftist Ann Coulter writes about, the liberal that hates his fellow Americans. I admit it freely. Part of what makes this country great is my ability to discuss, in a public forum, how much I detest the unshaven, tacitly-racist, un-rigorous AM Talk Radio-listening fuckwads that currently make up 51% of the American electorate. I wish I could be as calm as Al Franken (whose book we are listening to right now), but no, I actually want all registered Republicans to get a career-ending injury on Election Day so that this country can get straightened out by people with brains.
But if Bush is re-elected, all hope for a decent country is almost gone. And you can pretty much guarantee yourselves another huge terrorist attack if that monkey is put back in office; it will be a sign to all Islamicist insurgents that we agree with the way he has hamfistedly manhandled the world. Arab youth who currently can't stomach the killing of innocent Americans will be swayed by the fact that we all got together and agreed to keep this lying, bloodlusting buffoon in office.
Either way, we won't be here to see it happen; at least we don't plan on it. But that raises the other Big Question: where do we go? Are we really signing up for a few years in Canada or France? What will it truly mean to be an expatriate in a place where we haven't got all our friends, or even our language? I have a fair amount of emotional investiture in America; I just spent 2 years refinishing the floors at the farm, fer chrissake. My great-grandfather rowed here from England. Can I truly just say, "well, the 70s and 80s and 90s were a good run, but it's time to move on"?
It all sounds scary. I feel stuck. And sometimes talking with like-minded people only makes it worse.
Posted by at October 8, 2003 10:59 PM