This is becoming a familiar feeling.
Where I avoid the news – paper, broadcast, internet – all damned day. I do it purposefully. If I accidentally click on my usual news sites, I quickly steer away. If a blogger I enjoy dares speak of the AVOIDED, I again, click away.
Even when 70% of the stories ask if it was “soon enough” or whether the lead was anything more than negligible. Even if they trash her for her negativity and her attempts at re-writing the rules:
I don’t even know that I can put my finger on why.
Perhaps it’s because I can’t put my finger on WHY Hillary won’t just fucking crash & burn. I don’t understand why people like her. Why they vote for her despite her shittiness – the way she comports herself, the bullshit “misstatements” that she makes, her quasi-republicanism, her negativity, her miscategorizations.
Maybe I am just unhappy. Unhappy to think that it’s true that a Black Man still can’t be president in this country. (And yes, I fully believe that a very large part of the results in Pennsylvania are due to racism. The polls that I heard a week ago and two weeks ago were very racist, and very clear that the “rural” residents of the state would NOT vote for an African-American.) And that a member of his own party will exploit this fact. Will revel in it.
Maybe I am unhappy because once again, I am apparently worlds away from the vibe of this country.
I don’t want to let go of the hopefulness that something different could happen NOW. In the wake of the crap that we’ve been handed over the past 8 years. But not only does Hillary’s apparent semi-popularity dash my hopefulness — so does Obama’s lack of remarkability in the past weeks. I am not sure I would go so far as to say he was unfaithful to the image I had at the start – the promise he offered and reinforced with his outstanding speech on race – but he’s stopped being remarkable.
I want remarkable.
I still see no sign that if he makes it to the white house, we will have more of the same.
Bush – Clinton – Bush – Clinton
I know that the actual numbers make the pattern hugely unlikely. But I wanted him to blaze through. I wanted for us all to stand up and clap and shout as he made his way. I didn’t want us to be clamouring for public perception and crossing our fingers that her bullying doesn’t work.
So I’m squirming. But I’m squirming while I continue to donate, and while waiting for the discomfort to go away so I can start to hope again.