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EVERYONE NEEDS
A MANTRA
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As regular readers know, my presidential candidate didn't do
too well in the latest election. The other guy won, and I began considering
how I would handle the next four years.
Would I be angry? Would I be anxious? Would I be depressed?
Would I turn to alcohol and drugs to ease the pain? Would I move to Canada?
Or would I find a way to cope with what I considered the absurdity of the
situation?
Naturally, I chose the latter. I've embraced my inner self and
remained relatively calm through the first month of the President-elect's
nominations for Cabinet posts and other appointments.
For example, when Mr. Trump nominated Matt Gaetz to become our
next Attorney General, I hardly skipped a beat. I simply closed my eyes,
leaned back, and repeated over and over my new mantra:
"Whateverrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr."
Sure enough, Gaetz withdrew his nomination a couple of weeks
later and Mr. Trump nominated someone who wasn't a national joke. I had no
control over either nomination and I lost little sleep thanks to my new
mantra.
When the President-elect nominated the notorious anti-vaxxer
Robert F. Kennedy Jr. to lead our Health and Human Services Department, my
wife went ballistic. Not me. I couldn't do anything about it, and she was
not happy when I purred, "Whateverrrrrrr."
"You can't just dismiss it," she cried. "RFK Jr.
says he had worms in his head! Who knows what he'll do to the CDC. We're all
going to die!"
She was getting all worked up. Not me. "Whateverrrrrrrr."
I'll admit the nomination of Kash Patel as head of the FBI made
me slightly nervous. He's a conspiracy theorist and QAnon sympathizer who
has vowed to go after members of the media. Not the kind of guy you'd
necessarily want as our top law enforcement officer.
Feeling a little anger and anxiety, I quickly put it to rest
with my new mantra. I had no say in the matter. Maybe he'll get
confirmed, maybe he won't. And if he does, it will all work out eventually.
We'll survive.
Don't misunderstand. I'm not suggesting anyone who disapproves
of these nominations shouldn't be engaged. I'll voice my objection to
anyone who wants to listen. But I don't get worked up about it because
I have no control. My mantra is wildly successful.
It's not just politics. It works for all absurd aspects of life
out of my control. Sports, for instance. When I heard this week that Juan
Soto, a 26-year-old outfielder, had signed a 15 year contract with the New
York Mets for $765 million, I simply said, "Whatever."
Or when my beloved 49ers, who were widely expected to be a
Super Bowl contender, got blown out by the Buffalo Bills a week ago in a
snowstorm to fall to 5-7 for the season, I would normally be crushed.
Not anymore. As the clock ticked down and they fumbled away
another opportunity, I turned to my fellow 49er faithful watchers and said,
"Whatever. We'll be back next season."
"You've lost your spark," my wife said as we were
watching the national news the other night and I had my head back, eyes
closed (she was watching, I was listening) and I was deep into a "Whateverrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr."
It was a segment on the overthrow of the Syrian government,
where the despicable Bashar al-Assad was forced out by rebel forces. All
good, but there was much discussion about whether the rebel force was a
terrorist organization. Maybe not all good.
It was another perfect opportunity for a "Whatever."
"You can't just close your eyes and chant every time you
hear something that seems absurd," she continued. "You need to
fight it!"
She was right, of course. I needed to engage, not escape. I
thought about all the things I could do to prevent nominations, create a
democratic regime in Syria, turn around the 49er season, and reduce Juan
Soto's salary so that fans wouldn't have to pay exorbitant prices to watch
games.
Unfortunately, I came up with no ideas. That's why I gave her
the only reply I could think of when she told me to fight:
"Whatever."
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