Hahahahahahaha

It wasn't until The Great COVID Lockdown of 2020 that Sweet Hubby and I finally entered the world of streaming.   Up to that point, we had kept ourselves amused by relying on the library, Redbox, and our own collection of 1,000+ dvds.  During the early days of the lockdown, we learned that "Hamilton" was being shown free on Disney+ for a limited time.  We agreed we would subscribe temporarily, just to see this and maybe a couple of other films, and then let go of our subscription.

Well, it turns out that subscribing to streaming services is sort of like eating potato chips; it's awfully hard to keep it to one - or two - or three.  You get the idea.  So now we have a string of platforms to choose from, which means an almost overwhelming glut of material.

When we settle in to watch something at the end of the day (always with the fervent hope of lap time from a kitty), if we don't have time for an entire movie, we will often go to Netflix in search of comedy.  This has led to some wonderful discoveries: Hannah Gadsby, Taylor Tomlinson, Dave Chappelle, Ali Wong, Hari Kondabolu, Patton Oswalt, Ricky Gervais, Fortune Feinster, to name a few we have enjoyed.  The few we have not enjoyed shall remain nameless so that not to poison the well of your possible future amusement.

The gem of them all so far has been Mike Birbiglia.  The first time we watched one of his several shows, I laughed so hard that I literally peed my pants.  Even a couple of days later, I would recall that devastatingly funny moment and start laughing all over again.  Last night we watched another of his (I wore a panty liner this time, just in case) and it was once again an absolute delight.  

He's not just funny, though.  Like most of the best comedians, he sprinkles deep, thoughtful moments throughout his performances.  The one we watched last night, his most recent, titled "The New One", is wrenchingly personal and devastating while still being terribly, wonderfully funny.  Mike can kinda creep up on you.  He has a bland, Everyday Joe look and demeanor, comes across as a Regular Guy, even though one learns that there are parts of his life which are far from ordinary.  (Which is probably true of pretty much every supposedly ordinary person alive.)  He masterfully draws one in, does invisible setups for later payoffs, finds pure gold in the mess and confusion and surprises of being alive.  If you have never seen Mike Birbiglia, I invite you to do yourself a favor and watch him, soon and often.

Security

Sweet Hubby is very -  one might even say extremely - conscious of security.  He is always scoping the landscape or situation for what might go wrong, and takes whatever preventive measures he can.  Stepping from our kitchen onto our backyard deck, for example, entails getting out a hidden key, unlocking two locks on the door, then unlocking the screen door.  

I know I should be grateful for being kept so safe, and I am to a certain degree.  But I also rebel, sometimes inwardly, sometimes outwardly, against all this attention given to what can go wrong.  That's not where I want to focus my thoughts.  I once lived with a gunsmith who had 3 large dogs, a gun in his fanny pack, a gun under the pillow, a gun in the glove box.  I should have felt supremely safe, but instead I felt uncomfortable and stressed, not because I was concerned about a gun accident  but because all those security measures seemed to shout out, "The bad guys are going to get us!  We have to protect ourselves every moment!"

I'm no cock-eyed optimist wearing rose-colored glasses.  I've been mugged 5 times, my car has been broken into and my tires slashed.  And I've experienced my share of non-malicious dangers as well.  I've had my missteps and falls; I was once concussed while crossing the street by a stop light a driver had knocked over.  I know there are criminals.  I know gun violence is on the rise in this country.  I lock the house when I leave home and my car when I park.  This isn't me closing my eyes and stopping up my ears, singing, "Lalala, the world is safe, nothing bad will ever happen to meeeeee!"

What I rebel against is focusing on what's bad and dangerous.  There is a worldview encouraged by political leaders and given a megaphone by the media that we, the public, have a right to be safe and that our safety is under imminent and constant threat.  This kind of thinking is both ugly and ridiculous.  Ridiculous because of course we are not safe in this world, and have no reason to think that we ought to be.  There unquestionably are dangers galore, from microscopic germs to melting glaciers to outright war, slippery surfaces, hard edges, falling branches, drunk drivers, thieves, etc. ad infinitum.  And ugly because this worldview is fear-based, and people make very bad decisions when choosing from fear.  TSA is one big fear-based mess of a waste of time, energy, and resources.

I believe there are those who want me to feel afraid so that I will look to them to protect me.  That is what I rebel against.  I simply don't want to buy what they're selling. Bad things may happen, will happen.  But I decline to be thinking about them all the time.  That's just not where I want my thoughts and energy to go.  I'll take my chances, thank you very much, and I'll just  handle what comes.  

Whose sensitivies?

This is a time of super-sensitivity in American culture.  A lot of our leaders are proclaiming they want to protect (white) students from any uncomfortable feelings, even to the point of banning books, which is always an alarming omen of a possible theocracy or dictatorship on the rise.  One political party seems much more interested in and disturbed by what bathrooms and pronouns people use than in coming up with, let's say, affordable health care.

I've been thinking about this topic a lot lately, and of course am distressed and disgusted by the trend toward censorship and the imposition of supposedly Biblical standards in schools.  And it has occurred to me that it's not really children these political leaders are trying to protect.  It is themselves; it is their own discomfort they are trying to legislate away.

It is an uncomfortable and disturbing time, after all.  Four years of Trump and the ensuing political rancor and divisiveness, the normalization of lying, mass shootings on the rise, Covid still and permanently among us, technology becoming more a more pervasive, invasive part of our lives, racial tension, sexual identity tension, the glut of information, disinformation, lies, rumors, and gossip available on the Internet.  It can feel for us elders as though everything we're used to is being upended.  I certainly feel it, the bewilderment of navigating a world that isn't mine any more, a world so changed as to feel almost unrecognizable.

During the late 60's and early 70's, when the women's liberation movement was right up there with the antiwar protests, the gay rights movement, and the social justice movement as a vehicle for change, I remember my dad saying that he didn't know if he was going to insult a woman by holding the door for her or not holding the door for her.  The etiquette he had learned was being torn to pieces.  Language was changing ("It's fire fighter, not fireman!"), mores were changing ("Why shouldn't two men get married?"), and it must have felt to my parents like an upside down world.  And let's face it: change is upsetting.

The trouble is that some of our elected leaders, rather than helping the rest of this through these changes with grace and wisdom, are instead using their positions of power to make laws and pass bills meant to make the world more comfortable for them.  They don't really care about kids (although they are wildly fond of fetuses); they just want to feel better themselves, want the world to feel safer and more familiar.  It's kind of sad, really and I could feel sorry for them if they weren't such power-hungry imbeciles.

What's my motive and why am I suspicious of it?

Sweet Hubby and I alternate which one of us gets to decide what movie or series to watch when we settle in at night.  Last night was my turn, and for some reason, I really wanted to see a documentary chronicling the history of racism in this country.  And I found myself wondering: why do I want to watch this?

I know racism exists, was actually written into this country's Constitution because it was written by slave owners.  I know it's rampant still, and appalling and disgusting and wrong.  I am aware of many of the cruelties inflicted by racists, past and present, the vast majority of whom suffer no consequences.  So what was I hoping to get from watching this documentary?

Did I want to gawk at all that unspeakable cruelty, the way drivers gawk at even the most minor car accidents?

Did I want to be informed?  Certainly there is a lot more for me to learn, but nothing that could make me more sad or angry or horrified than I already am.

Did I want to test myself, check myself out for my own unrecognized prejudices?

Did I want to feel just and righteous, as though I have proved something about my virtuous character by watching it?  To feel superior to those people who stand under a lynched person with smiles on their faces?

Did I want to feel inspired to action?  But to what action?  What am I supposed to do?

Maybe I just want to understand, on the most visceral level possible, this horrible disease which infects my country down to its very bones and nerves and cells.  I don't know.  A lot to think about.  I wish I were braver.