Election Night in America
Sitting in my office this Wednesday morning in Korea, which means Tuesday evening in the U.S., I have been vaguely attending to Fox News’ election coverage on my second monitor while I work. At 8:45EST, as I write this, I note that for all the numbers talk, the economy talk, and the demographics talk, there are three words I have yet to hear once on the Fox coverage: Russia, Putin, Ukraine. Through all the extraordinary fluttering of the Fox ladies’ gigantic false eyelashes and the Fox elder gentlemen’s sagging chins, not to mention the many pounds of botox and other fillers that blur the faces and speech patterns of so many, the proverbial elephant in the room in this election — namely Donald Trump’s support for Vladimir Putin’s aims in Europe, his frequent defense of Putin’s interests internationally, and his absolute rejection of any hardline stand against despotic aggression or those who embody it — is, not suprisingly, off the table in this evening of praying and cheering for Putin’s best hope.
Shortly, a young friend will visit my office with salad and doughnuts, and we’ll read a short story by Jorge Luis Borges together — “The Approach to Al-Mu’tasim” to be precise. That is my way of clearing the gut-wrenching futility and hopelessness of today’s political reality from my soul. Away with the six-inch-long eyelashes and six-inch-deep botox; away with the giddy laughter from people who care only about their careers and their audience numbers, and not at all about the fate of freedom and civility on this planet. I choose to spend whatever time we have left before the gods roll up the picnic blanket on our folly attending, as far as possible, not to the chatter but to conversation, not to tribes but to individuals, not to tribulations but to ideas, and not to death but to life. It’s the only way.
