I should have named this Madam Overit, with “it” referring to so many quintessentially whacked out things in the world we now live in…keyboard warriors leaving devastatingly mean personal attacks in a comment section, for example. How cavalierly they take this unprecedented opportunity to be heard across the universe. How little they regard the recent reality when your best hope was that a letter to the editor would be published in your local paper or if you were going for the big time, a monthly magazine! Maybe there was a reason we had fewer outlets for our opinions…since most of us have no idea what we are talking about. Reading in the US is at an all time low. Our educational system peaked in 1972 and it’s been a steady downward fall ever since. Journalism, long revered as the cornerstone of democracy given its fundamental tenet of being unbiased, simply doesn’t exist anymore. There is no where to find even a semblance of the truth.
I recall all my journalism classes and the golden rule of reporting: show both sides. If you write two negatives, make sure you have two quotes from the other side. Just the facts, ma’m! Now I can’t find any facts, just opinion and insult a lot of the time. For a brief period a few years ago I attempted to engage in thoughtful discussion on FB with my cohort. I asked, with genuine curiosity, why those who had automatic weapons needed them. I wanted to understand. What followed were many comments about gophers destroying lawns. There was a mention of how long it would take the police to reach them in rural areas if there were a home invasion. Ummm. Okay. What else could I say other than let each comment speak for itself.
Do guns represent masculinity? Are they proverbial super penises that can mow down a crowd? What is the real appeal? Whenever there has been a particularly horrific (wait, check that - they are all horrific) mass shooting, I yearn for the days of the musket. Drop the ball in, tap tap tap with your stick, then maybe try to aim and fire. While the tap tap tap is going on, everyone gets the hell out of the area.
Even writing this…if anyone were to see it, I think it would be immediately viewed in politically divisive terms. I’m questioning guns, ergo I must believe in allowing children to identify as kitty cats in middle school and provide litter boxes in the bathroom. I’m reminded of a line from VEEP that went something like, “Yeah, I’ve met the people and the people are F&$#%tards.” Totally offensive? I’m not so sure.
And that is why I should call this Madam Over It, because any attempt my brain makes to try to figure out a solution, a light at the end of the tunnel, a scrap of hope for humanity…I might as well be taking a walk in a phone booth. Every direction you turn, you hit a wall. Which reminds me that I miss telephone booths, along with real journalistic ethics. Maybe it’s time to rewatch All the President’s Men - a book and film that pointed me in the direction of studying journalism. Why? Because the reporters, focused on confirmed facts and the actual truth, spent a lot of time in phone booths, confirming their story.
Comments
Post a Comment