Saturday, September 23, 2006

Sleeping Muse

I don't know if the Muse is asleep, drunk, on vacation, or what. It ain't here.

It only matters for me, anyway. Judging from the comments, the Muse could be dead, and no one but me would care. This is supposed to be for me anyway, my therapy, my journal, my ego exposed.

I promised Ms CPB that I wouldn't write about the total moral bankruptcy of Islam and it's followers, governments and clergy. So I won't. I might offend one of them, and cause more terrorist acts. Mea culpa, mea culpa.

I just started re-reading The Lyre of Orpheus by Robertson Davies, a (gasp) Canadian novelist. I must admit, all Of PDB's blogs on Canadians prompted me to start the book. If you want to understand his rants and insights, read Davies. This book is one of his last, and one that captures Canadian thought, or more accuratly, the Canadian psyche, or what PDB was talking about in that scene he describes at the park with his friends, better than any other book Davies has written. Anyone rising above mediocrity, on purpose, is suspect. Strivers are criticized. Davies quotes the National Prayer: "O God, grant me mediocrity and comfort; protect me from the radiance of Thy light." Amen

Ok, Muse, wake the hell up. The dam is about to burst and I need direction. Politics seems irrelevant. Democrates are boring, liberals are either Hollywood or crazy, conservatives are starting to make sense.

After months of complaining to the cable company about not getting 30% of the stations I'm paying for, they finally boosted the signal in our area. I get Imus once again, on MSNBC. And perhaps that's why conservatives seem to make sense. They want to wipeout terrorists instead of trying to understand them. My understanding is long gone.

My only admited predudice, in the past, was against redheads. I never met one I liked. However, I have gotten over that. But I have abandoned all tolerance for a certain non-Christian religion. I am now blind to all their arguments, justifications, sufferings, and admirable qualities. All of them are the same, I am ashamed to say. Events have forced this on me, sort of like admiring pigs from afar, and then having to live among them. This tends to change one's perspective.

I said I wouldn't do that, so I'll stop.

BRB is still Left Write Left(and missing a Muse or two)


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