A good many people are starting to wobble, as my beloved James Wolcott observes.
I've noticed a distinct note of despondency in many of the blogs I devotedly follow, a deep indentation of the blues…. [M]uch of it transcends a single or multiple cause, expressing a dark mingling of the personal, the political, and the cosmic: a prison sky of futility pressing downward to the point where depression and oppression meet.At this rate, we’ll make it through neither the psychic nor the literal winter that is coming.
There’s only one way to survive this, people, and that is to screw with their heads.
Pick the head and the screw of your choice, and do it.
Pick the degree of rebellion -- cackling laughter, sarcasm, passive-aggression, punk, resistance, rebellion -- and do it.
But for fuck sake, do something.
Bush shrugs: History? Pffft. We’ll be dead.
Oh, but not all of us. Some of us will be dancers on graves.