Turn Off That Screen and Live

I grew up in a political family.  I can remember loud arguments over candidates early in life. Father to daughter, mother to son, people who were normally close could take off on politics in a way that was frightening to a small child.  The election would eventually pass, however, and things would go back to kindness and closeness. People had lives and politics belonged to only a tiny corner of it. The President’s picture was in our classrooms, adults were respected, and children managed temporary upsets around elections.

Life has certainly changed.  For reasons known only to the Lord above who said pre-diluvium “their thoughts are only evil continually”, we are now engaged in politics like we used to be engaged in life.  Gone are the days when presidents were in the White House and we were going about our daily lives. With the instant nature of news and its confrontational delivery, we have lost our collective minds. We are certain that other people must tell us what to think.  We believe fear mongers have our best  interests and that they aren’t just wily twisters of facts because it is making them rich.  People play this nonsense non-stop.  Designed to rile you up, scare you, and take your peace, talking heads talk on and on and on.  They choose their side and stick to it, warning us that if we look away, we are doomed.  Only they can save us.

Hogwash.

You want to know how strong these talking heads are?  People are dying nowadays because of what they heard on a screen.  They are not in a clear state of mind.  Upset by the latest outrage delivered by announcers taking it all to the bank with a smile on their face, your regular John Doe is close to losing it.  Some of them are losing it. Millions are living on a thin ledge of sanity.  Afraid of scientific advice, afraid of The Other Side, even afraid they are being chipped so they can be followed. (Though still carrying the phone in their pocket and the watch on their wrist that tells most any half-decent hacker, several businesses they are connected to, and any and all authorities where they are every second of the day and how their heart rate is doing).

People do not trust other people.  They do not trust their government.  They do not trust their God.  But give them a talking head with a loud and long tale to tell and every word is gospel.  Or the opposite of gospel, as that word literally means “good news.” 

I believe a big part of this mental sickness is that announcers let them think they are gaining an exclusive insight into what-is-going-on.  Now I know something you do not know!  Information they would logically have seen as rot admits them to a club of others like them.  Those in-the-know, who put them ahead of saps, dupes, ignorant souls who aren’t listening, and who give them talking points control them.  Now, they have something to say.  People who couldn’t hold a conversation with a six year old can now parrot several of their favorite fear mongers and insist it’s “research.” 

There is no phrase on earth that makes me turn away from someone faster than “You better listen!”  If you have only theories, if you have only fear, if you have only other people’s words, you say, “You better listen!”  It is a dead giveaway that the speaker doesn’t have a clue what he is talking about.  You are listening to a parrot. 

There are too many “celebration of life” meetings being held.  There are too many children who are learning poison that will control them for years to come; there is too much sadness and stress taking place. 

I came thisclose to not letting a close relative in my house because I know his lives for being in-the-know.  It’s a sport for him.  He is too old to have to consider being sent to fight in a war.  He has neither money nor power nor faith in God.  But as long as he can know stuff, he’s ready to go.  He heard it while looking at a screen.  The screen controls his life and he is ready to scream out the screen’s nonsense as fact.  Except for my living room, where screens are down and flesh and blood sees flesh and blood.  He knows he can put a foot wrong and be invited to go and sit on the patio while the rest of us enjoy real life.  I would imagine I am very much not liked, but this small space is not made for ugly talk.  For the brief time in my house, real life takes place, real joy is traded and real memories are made.  And if being heavy handed is what it takes to live while life is ours, I am okay with that.