Done pissing in the wind

I have no more capacity for outrage.

Bush could soak a kitten in kerosene and set it ablaze in the Rose Garden and I’m not sure I could manage much more than a sigh. The Democrats would feign shock then vote to support the president’s bill weakening laws against animal cruelty. The press would unquestioningly accept the White House assertion that the kitty was in league with terrorists. The American people would be apoplectic for a day and then go back to sleep.

We handed over the reigns of power to a lunatic and his enablers with predictable results—America is in shambles. But with a year to go before Bush leaves office, things could get worse. Much worse. Pakistan is on the verge of exploding. Limp-dick Cheney wants yet again an opportunity to prove his manhood by blowing Iran off the map. Bush continues nominating imbeciles to the nation’s highest positions. Yet this past Sunday I gave the opinion page of my paper the same breezy fly-through that I usually reserve for the classifieds.

I just don’t care that much anymore. The president will continue to do as he pleases and congress will not stop him. The voices for justice are simply too weak to be heard. The Democratic candidate for president a year from now will most likely be Hillary Clinton, who, like her husband, knows how to speak “liberal” during campaigns, but votes conservative when the lever is actually pulled.

And I’m getting sick of writing letters to my representatives. It really is an exercise in futility. My Democratic senator seems to have no qualms about voting with Republicans on key issues, and my stream of embittered e-mails certainly hasn’t resulted in any epiphany on her part.

Resistance (even the quiet kind) requires energy and my batteries have been drained over the last seven years. I’m tired of pissing in the wind.