Ladies and Gentlemen

So I'm depressed, or I was at least. Everyone feels like shit. Frieda didn't write the comment about killing everyone, Gorss is taking heat from Cornell about Bush and I'm contributing to his shit feeling by telling him he's brainwashed, the Jets lost today...TO THE BILLS!!!, my fantasy golf team ended up with a miserable 70 points and there's rumor of snow coming to Ithaca. The once fun loving, artsy, often unintelligent and unintelligible Coney Island has become a battleground state.

Last week, I thought that if I responded in a way that equaled my sadness about the election, something would change for the better. Err, oops. That was wrong. Nothing positive came from this idea, in fact just the opposite...
Gorss writes: "My brief excursion into blogdom has done nothing but raise my blood pressure. I think I'll return to reality and let you tell me in person how brainwashed I am."

This is bad news for Cap'n Pete for a couple of reasons. One, you won't meet a nicer guy than this Gorss fella. Two, he writes great posts and comments with his heart and his head combined, something that I might be unaccustomed to. Three, he wants me to tell him how brainwashed he is in person. The dude's like 6'7"! I mean, I'm quick like a cat, but my hands are typing out checks my body can't cash. I know what’s coming to me, and I probably deserve it, but it ain't stopping me from wearing a helmet to church next week.

No one's happy about the election. Republicans are being treated like they personally began the war, and the Democrats are sulking in the reality of four more years. Us Progressives are just sitting back blasting everyone cause that’s what we do best. And don't for one second think things would be an ounce better had Kerry been elected. Ain't no Republican gonna take orders from some latte 'drinkin', gay marriage 'supportin', baby 'killin' liberal and I have a pretty good feeling that I would not have acted in a mature way had Kerry won. This might be the saddest thing of all. There wasn't an option that would have healed the polarity of the country.

Well, I'm burned out. I talked to my father on the phone. I told him how sad I felt. Something about talking to Dad's when your sad brings you so close to tears. (You think nostalgically about the times he warmed your frozen feet in sixth grade after you stood on the snow drifted sidelines of Hornell's astro-turf and waited until the end of the game to get your eight required, "everybody gets to play" plays in.) He listened to me explain my frustration and embarrassment, my feelings of responsibility for Bush's re-election and my in ablitity to comprehend what the next four years might bring. He told me to stick in there. When I got home he had e-mailed me this scripture. Try not to sing the Byrds tune to it.

3:1For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:
2 a time to be born, and a time to die;
a time to plant, and a time to pluck up what is planted;
3 a time to kill, and a time to heal;
a time to break down, and a time to build up;
4 a time to weep, and a time to laugh;
a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
5 a time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together;
a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
6 a time to seek, and a time to lose;
a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
7 a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
8 a time to love, and a time to hate;
a time for war, and a time for peace.

As I read the e-mail I remember thinking..."Oh Yeah. I forgot."

So for now, I'm done. I don't want to think about it. My wife's having a baby in five months. I just saw Mel Chin speak in Cleveland. He turned it out, and even mentioned my name during his lecture given to the Cleveland Institute of Art. My 26th birthday was on Saturday and I'm still alive. Why am I making people feel shitty? Why am I feeling shitty?

Ladies and Gentlemen! The rides at Coney Island are circling again. Step right up, see the dog faced boy, hold on there little sailor hold on, have your tickets ready, You’ll see Priscilla Bajano The monkey woman, Jo Jo the dog face boy and Milton Malone, the human skeleton. See Grace McDaniel's the mule-faced woman and she's the homeliest woman in the world. Under the Big Top tonight never before seen (And if you have a heart condition, please be warned). Don't forget to visit our sister snack site, the nicest place in the world, at The Pickle, all sales are final void where prohibited by law. You'll see Johnny Eck, the man born without a body. He walks on his hands. He has his own orchestra and is an excellent pianist. And don't forget, it's ladies' night at Harvy's Harbour Bizarre you'll see Ko Ko the bird girl, Mortando, the human fountain. Step a little closer, a little closer ladies and gentlemen and don't be shy dig deep in your pockets Ladies and gentlemen, Take Me To Coney Island! A little closer.
Ladies and gentlemen!