Scenes From a Broken Hand: Bash-Your-Head-Against-the-Wall Time

Tuesday, July 8, 2008

Bash-Your-Head-Against-the-Wall Time

You know, the American People are, on the whole, reasonably intelligent, with a reasonably intelligent sense of what is urgent and important in their private and civic lives. We may not always be wise about finding solutions, or even properly analyzing those problems, but we more or less know what they are.

It seems clear to me, therefore, that the members of our glorious National Press Corps must be aliens:

In poll of pet owners, McCain tops Obama
Pet owners find McCain with his house full of animals more appealing than the petless Obama

Really? Seriously? This is what our noble journalists--heirs to Zenger, Mencken, Murrow, and Woodward--think we need to talk about in our current election?

Are they complete morons, incapable of following an actual story? Or is it just that they're so deeply filled with contempt for the rest of us that this is all they think we can handle?

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Scenes from a Broken Hand

CHESTER:
This monk I knew in Thailand... amazing man. He was always talking about these veils that stand between us and reality—and how you had to push them back to win the Hide and Seek.

JIM:
Hide and Seek?

MORDECAI:
It's a game, Pogo—the one I'm playing with myself—my real self, deep down.

CHESTER:
No, no. God, or the world, or whatever is out there, is playing it--with all of us. See, God is like this tremendous hand, and we, all of us, everything, are like the fingers. What God does is, he splits himself up into all these different parts, all these fingers: plants, fish, people, rocks—and then—this is the amazing part— he forgets! He forgets what he's done. He plays a game with himself, see? Hide and Seek! That's what the veils are for—so he can forget—so we can forget where it all came from. We see the fingers, but we never see the hand.

from Scenes From a Broken Hand,
a play by Andrew Ordover