This election was, in the final stages, billed as a referendum on George W. Bush and his first four years ( simply stating it as "his first four years" and thereby denoting 4 more to come is still nightmarish at this point). Maybe so, but I'm choosing to view it as a referendum on the American public, we the people, the "moral" and immoral majority, the inhabitants of the promised land, the keepers of the light of freedom, etc, etc, etc...I watched until things stalled last night, watching and hoping with all my might, trying to will John Kerry into the White House, not so much believing he could turn all this mess around, but knowing that the corporate puppet we've endured these past 4 years, the infamous G. Dubbya, had more than had his way with us, raping and plundering our collective will and consent, telling us all the way it was necessary, convincing too many of us that his way was THE WAY. John Kerry's slate was much cleaner, and he seemed much more willing to allow us to write upon it what we thought best for this country and thereby the world. He wasn't perfect, his flaws dramatically exposed during the grueling past months of a nasty campaign, but he was the only alternative to what I viewed as the all too obvious debacle of 'young' Bush's reign. I fell asleep and dreamt of the 'what if' of the next day, knowing the chances for Kerry were extremely slim, but hey, the Red Sox came back from the edge, so why not another lightening strike, this time for the good of humanity.

Waking up at 0530 this morning I had a political hangover of immense proportions, too much analytical ramblings and rants from the right, left and center, too much of a not-so-good-thing. I went to work, absent-mindedly slammed a few airplanes around, and all the while wondered why no one else seemed to be talking about the past evening and the implications of what was probably the inevitable outcome I so desperately wanted to avoid becoming aware of. Around 0815 I went online and immediately saw the headlines saying that Kerry had conceded. At that moment I realized just how much this whole thing had meant to me, how deeply regime change had become entwined with my psyche and my spirit. I've no idea what death feels like, but I believe I experienced 'death' at some level as I read those headlines, and as I looked around me and saw everyone else proceeding through their day so damn normally I began to feel what I've been sensing all along and I became quite angry, angrier still as the truth of what had really happened became clear. Apathy. That's what had happened; collective, insidious apathy, as guilty myself of succumbing to the enrapturment of it all as anyone else. The re-election of Bush was OUR fault, and not the result of someone else's ignorance separate from myself. We had blown it, our chance for redemption, however slight, had slithered away into the cold, dark realm of uncertainty and the accompanying despair that always follows. The coasts went blue, the south and center red, and in the end the blue was perhaps too smug and self-assured to reach out to the red and say "Hey' we're in this together, and we better get it right". G. Dubbya and his minions, (or is it the other way around?), beat us fair and square because we fell asleep at the wheel and they took advantage of that with a resolve and stealth we didn't see coming. This battle is lost, and for our once great society I'm not so sure it isn't already too late to save its soul. My biggest fear is that we will now slowly roll over and begin the process of social erosion that is the final stage all great societies must eventually face. With the republicans/conservatives on the verge of controlling all three branches of government, the balance we need to make this great experiment run is endangered and may quite possibly become the doorway to anarchy. I know this sounds like something Orwell would have penned, but when one stops and thinks about where we've been, where we are...where we're going seems suspicious at best.

I don't know what's to be done at this point, and I'm feeling more than a little lost and alone in regards to wielding any real power to change things. In the end compassion and love seem to be the only sentiments that ever bring about lasting or at least meaningful change, and making that argument part of any re-occurring debate wears me out, and eventually puts me in opposition to the very ideals I believe are paramount to turning this crazy, wacky world around. Chief Joseph, after eluding the cavalry for many months, his people weary beyond belief, his stomach eternally soured by death and the destruction of his world, made the simple statement "I shall fight no more forever". Did he find something cleansing at that point, the weight of all his troubles suddenly lifted from his broad shoulders? Am I at that point, or do I still have some fight left in me? I sometimes wonder if waging battle in support of the "good fight" is even the way to victory, that maybe 'victory' isn't what I think it is. G. Dubbya and his self-perceived "moral authority" over the world scares the hell out of me, but who am I to think that it's even within my realm to combat the onslaught of his slanted, ill-conceived, supposedly Christian-driven idealology and its impact on our world. I'm humbled by what has occurred over the course of my life, the last 3 years perhaps the catalyst for a new awakening within me. It just doesn't matter, it just doesn't matter, it just doesn't matter...and in the end that just may be more than enough.