Strange Days

Today was beautiful. For the first time since I came back to the Northwest, the weather was PERFECT! The sky was clear. It was 70 degrees. I could see Mount Rainier at nearly every turn. It was in my rearview mirror as I snaked down the massive backside of Fauntleroy in West Seattle. It was in front of me going south on 99. At one point, it looked like that ragged stretch of road might just end at the bottom of this massive snow-capped wonder. It was the beginning of a beautiful day. But then I came across this... from a website ironically called christwire.org 

“You know we’re living in a delusional world when libtards all over the place are not giving President Bush credit for killing Osama bin Laden.  Bin Laden was killed because President Bush declared war on Al-Qaeda, Hamas and every other terrorist on Earth.
When Bush was wiping Saddam off the map, liberals were crying over semantics.  They were crying because they said Iraq had no WMDs, when Saddam made it clear he had no respect for UN sanctions and America’s dictations for Iraq.  We had every right to invade and Iraq had their hand in 9/11...

Then he goes on to say...

“You dumb, retarded Reddit loving, crack toking and drug thought induced liberals, listen up.  President Bush received hell for trying to capture Osama bin Laden.  Like HELL you are going to give credit for this to a man who tried to make friends with Iran on his first dark day in our nation’s White House.”

And that, my friends, is how you fuck up a perfectly beautiful day.

I don’t much care about nationalizing vengeance. I feel it on a personal level, and I am not proud of that instinct. So, it becomes this contradiction. I understand it. I can’t judge it. But I can’t embrace it either. A man kills the man who raped his daughter, “Find peace, brother.” A woman cuts off the penis of her abusive husband, “Go with God, Sister.”

But, in all cases, it’s there but the grace of God go I.

But what I can’t ignore is that even this, even this act of putting down a man who killed more than 3,000 Americans, and who in supposedly purusing him, we launched a war that has taken from us nearly $2 trillion and nearly 5,000 in U.S. military lives, that this country cannot quit from its incessent bullshit for more than a day.... What enrages me is the gaul of honestly proposing that George W. bush bares no blame for the depression he left us with or the war he put us in based on lies but credit in absentia for killing Osama Bin Laden?

On the day of Bin Laden’s death, America reveled in vengeance. Partying at Ground Zero. Partying in front of the White House. The day after, the really self-destructive right-wing politicizing began anew, again exacting revenge. Not against terrorists. But against the political party that defeated them. Against the fact that a “black man” runs the country. In writing that, I’m not saying it’s base racism but desplacement. Think about the American man, women joining the workforce and perhaps on occasion competing with them for jobs spurred the Promisekeepers. The influx of Cuban and Dominican players in baseball had them decring the end of America’s pasttime. It’s not about racism but identification. We are all empowered in some ways through identifying with those in power, with talent, etc. The fact that white men no longer have exclusivity in the White House, coupled with the realization that white people will soon no longer be the “majority” in America must feel threatening.

On the left as well... Among liberals (assumedly emancipated from such base tendencie)  there is that sliver consumed by the get-back, against a President who did not live up to every last expectation. More importantly, however, it’s really about their own identity. After all, buffoon leadership is a necessary justification for rage. Then, Obama had the nerve to try to replace it with temperance and moderation.

Oh, the horror!!!!

Osama Bin Laden is dead because he is unnecessary. We are truly a country that needs no enemies. We are entirely capable of and are on a fast road to destroying ourselves. We don’t need Russia. We don’t need terrorist, China, “illegal immigrants,” outsourcing, bankers, unions, gays, Bentley-driving hip hop artists or the fucking Federal Reserve.

Rome is definitely burning.

Sometimes when I’m at the Wal-Mart forced to see the crack of some 250 lb woman in skinny jeans and a halter top, or reading about growth of the debt purchasing industry, or making the connection that it was indeed born from the Savings & Loan scandal in the 1980s and is as much to blame for the sub-prime loan crisis as was the Community Reinvestment Act, I think burn bitch, burn!

But, then, my son and I sit down for dinner.

The patio door is open. It is cool, not at all cold, outside. Shyla, the dog, sits underneath the table as usual, waiting for Ilan to slip little corners of food to her when I look away.

“Geronimo, EKIA,” I say instead of grace, then explain to my boy it’s the code word for mission accomplished and the acronym for Enemy Killed In Action. Ilan looks at me as if I have loss my mind and Shyla barks. Guess I startled her.

The loaf...

I hated meatloaf as a kid. Don’t remember why. Maybe it was the word “meatloaf” I didn’t like. Maybe it was because it was usually bland. It could have been the fact that my Mother always put diced onions in the loaf. As a kid, I hated onions. Anytime we went to McDonalds, we were always asked to pull aside so the pimply teenager inside could scrape the onions off my hamburger.

Anyway, I got a hair to make meatloaf. Found a recipe that called for two cups of brown sugar and ketchup. The reviews were glowing but it sounded like something Roseanne Barr would make. So I substituted the two cups of brown sugar for half a cup -- one-fourth for the loaf and one-fourth for the sauce. For the loaf, I mixed garlic, ginger, one egg, one quarter cup of milk, green and red bell peppers, bread crumbs, rosemary, oregano and the brown sugar into a food processor. Mixed it all into the loaf. For the sauce, instead of ketchup (what fool ever uses ketchup in cooking? Mustard I get, but ketchup?) I used tomato paste, diced tomatoes, a bit more garlic, rosemary, oregano, worcester and soy.... I do everything to taste. It was a bit sweet. So I added that Vietnamese garlic chili sauce and coarsely ground black pepper. It was fantastic.  Way too rich for a marinara but perfect for meat loaf. So I lined the pan with the sauce, put the loaf in the middle and topped it with more bread crumbs. Then I cooked it for an hour at 350.

The gravy...

When the loaf came out of the oven, it had, along with a serious amount of meat grease, a gravy. I put the loaf onto a serving plate then spooned all the oil off the gravy. Then I kind of whisked the gravy with a spatula... It too was good. So fucking good. I served it on top of rosemary mashed potatoes.
Ilan is a fickle eater. Lettuce wraps, he likes. Pizza, he likes. Fried chicken, he could give or take. Pizza, strictly pepperoni and cheese. If he’s in the right mood, he will tolerate spaghetti and meatballs. All else, in his mind, is disgusting. But tonight, I discover that Ilan loves meatloaf. He eats it with the mashed potatoes and gravy, then he ask for more. He wants me to make him a meatball sandwich for his lunch tomorrow. “But put cheese on it,” he says, drinking a big glass of water, already wearing his pajamas. “And gravy. Put the gravy on top.”

It occurs to me. When you are happy, life is good regardless. When you are unhappy, dissatisfied, or otherwise lacking, nothing satisfies. I’m not talking about the fickle eating habits of my kid, but life, politics, the media and this country’s apparent collective pursuit of disdain. And my own detours. In all honestness, I got my own shit. Like the fact that Rush Limbaugh lives life a millionaire, exploiting the basest of human emotions, while Lenny Bruce, Sammy Davis Jr., Edgar Allen Poe and Thomas Jefferson all died penniless. To be blatantly honest, the fact that I am smart, fairly thoughtful, with a great work ethic, and I have little more than a 401K, a half-assed college savings account and a house full of furniture to my name while there are people -- whom I personally know -- who are verifiably crazies, narcissists and idiots with millions in the bank. It’s enough to make you bitter. Just like 3,000 plus dead is enough to make you vengeful. Just like losing your house to bankruptcy while the U.S. government, whom you pay taxes to, gives roughly 700 billion to the banking industry who took it is enough to make you hate your own government. Just like no longer being the King of the World makes you vulnerable to conspiracies about birth certificates.

I put Ilan to bed. As I walk out the door, he ask, “President Obama killed the terrorists?”
“Yes, he killed the bad man.”

Today was a strange day indeed. The point, I think, is to adapt, be generous with compassion and certain about rage. Above all, know that life is a struggle. The joy that comes with... is all gravy.