A Stake in the Ground

by Garrison Somers

This Essay Rated CT
Credit / Blame Garry
Essay # 0000001
Last Edited 2016-02-19

Exactly 500 words on the present madness on the campaign trail:

I’ve decided that I’m using too much personal energy being unhappy with the offerings this election season. I don’t know why I’m getting upset, anyway. After all, I’m not Black, so black lives really don’t have to matter to me. I’m not Hispanic, so if they do build a wall across Mexico, it won’t affect me. I’m white, but so what? I’m not a woman, so women’s rights to their own bodies isn’t truly my concern. I’m not going to college again, so student debt, well . . . and the high cost of higher education, ahem . . . . I’m not particularly religious, so if our next Executive is, well, I’ll just muddle along. On the other hand, if he’s not, then it won’t bug me a bit to lose what spiritual activities I participate in. I’m not so young that a long hard time will affect my entire life. I’m not so old that a long hard time will wreck the rest of it, either. I don’t fly on airplanes because I don’t like traveling, so Homeland Security is only vaguely relevant to me. I do own a gun, but don’t shoot it. I have some bullets, somewhere. If it’s taken away — oh, well. If it’s not? Oh, well, again. I’m uninvolved with Genetically Modified Organisms, free-range chickens, school vouchers, police brutality, recreational drugs, animal cruelty, lack of diversity in the film industry, the tiffs between celebrities, concussions, earthquakes in far-off places, and while child pornography deeply troubles me, I have no young children who can be taken advantage of by such sick behaviors. I’m not a farmer, or in the oil business, so I don’t care about subsidies. I can afford my own health insurance, so if they repeal the ACA, then so it goes. I’m sorry for all of my friends out of work, or not as well off as I, but, frankly, it’s not really my problem. I have invested wisely, so I should be able to weather any upcoming economic downturn, or, if not, it’s going to be bad all over, and then, poof. In the end, I haven’t put anything off hoping for a more opportune moment, nor have I planned to travel when I retire. I suppose I’ll miss out on some things, but not so much that I actually anticipate a spiral of depression in not doing them. And, if the world is getting warmer, there’s not thing one I can do about it. If it’s getting colder, I suppose I can wear another coat, if I must. And I may or may not be suffering from the first glimmers of early onset Alzheimer’s, but whatever happens in that regard will happen with or without my fear and worry, so, quite frankly, fuck it. Here’s my point: this actually is my circus, and my clowns. If they take everything of mine away, then I’ve done without before, and can do it again. So, bring on this god-damned election.