I haven't written this blog since 2019. I'm not sure why I stopped. It may have been dismay over the election. But why? There were many elected who were just as self-focused and blatantly self-serving as today's politicians, yet I kept writing through the time they strutted and fretted upon their stage. It is still something of a mystery to me that something caused me to stop writing.
As I look back, 2019 was the time when I was busy disbelieving Sarah Palin and the ragtag group that were her family. I didn't take her seriously and thought some of her behavior was just opportunism. I viewed her and those I considered her successors--Lauren Boebert and Marjorie Taylor Greene, as behaving as if they were good-time girls, laughing up a storm while peddling beers to the boys in the bar.
But there's something new now that has brought me back to the keyboard, and I think I can see it. It's a tawdry obsession to dominate, which the now-president elect seems to be celebrating. As far as I can see, it is a slogan that has created thousands of gladiators looking for action and dedicated to "owning the libs."
I have to admit that I'm not sure what owning the libs means.
One picture that comes to mind is a victorious gladiator standing in the Colosseum, sword poised over a poor devil who has a wife and son somewhere. This victor holds his sword high and waits for emperor's signal. Will Ceasar give the thumbs up to mean life? Will the gladiator then pull his comrade up and let the wife and son have their family for one more day? Or will it be thumbs down to mean death? Will the woman then get the body, wipe off the sweat and dirt, and prepare the man for burial?
In those moments before the signal is given, what does the gladiator think about? Does he wonder why the emperor's ego requires him to decide whether a man lives or dies? Does he listen to the roar of an audience that feels powerful watching the death of a man already downed? Does he feel compassion for the man whom he might have shared a beer with?
If he owned the libs at that moment, I suspect he wasn't thinking at all. He was gloating at having won. Yet what does he have to gloat about? Will the glory in the moment matter in the future? His name may be chiseled on the training area wall. But how long before his name is replaced by whoever vanquishes him?
Today's celebrity is tomorrow's dust, a truism that applies to any civilization or culture. One day, our buildings will crumble like the Colosseum and lie festering below layers of natural vines--or, as Carl Sandburg said--beneath the grass that covers all. One day, we will be strange, even bizarre, to those who follow us.
And when that happens, I doubt very much that "owning the libs" will stand as one of the nation's great rallying calls like "A time for Greatness" or "Morning in America."
