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Fishrush is moving into a new state of being, an alteration of consciousness, a transcendence of spirit, and some other bollocks.
The Rite of Fishrush
20-11-2003 12:00AM
I have to admit, I've been kind of down lately.
I don't like my country's government. Not the country I'm living in, I mean that country of which I'm a citizen. It's not a thing where I just think they're making bad policy choices. I think it's a destructive entity. And it gets me down when I see other citizens of that country behaving like it's all OK.
The culminating moment of this was when I sent a jokey email to my dad about this, after reading Betsy Devine's excellent satire. My jokey comment was much lamer than her brilliant parody of a futuristic America; something along the lines of Bush having a fragile ego because he restricted protestors to special "Free Speech Zones" miles away from his presence.
The lameness of said joke (which, admittedly, was made with a sort of desperately hysterical sense of humor) was so great that he (my dad) didn't even get it, and when I read his response, which concluded with "Be Afraid" it was like the huge bubble of malaise that has been gurgling in the pit of my stomach any time I read anything political just boiled over and exploded inside my head.
I just sat there for five minutes, not even thinking; I couldn't do any work, and I ended up fiddling around until my lunch break.
So I think I need to get away from politics for a while. Which is not to say I've given up on democracy. But this situation is obviously not good for me at the moment.
When I got back from lunch I found something to take me away from it all-- for a little while, at least.
Now, after going through many elaborate rites and rituals, one of which was to recite the Postblogger Pronunciamento seven times consecutively without pause, I get to be caretaker of fishrush.com and fishrush.org.
What am I going to do with my new little charges? Well, I guess you'll have to wait and see. But whatever it is, I can guarantee it's not going to be political. I'm reserving that for awkward dinner conversations at extended family reunions.