NOBODY ELSE IN THE WORLD BUT US

by Andrew Williams

Constant viewers of my electronic palimpsest know I tend to be highly critical of American culture and politics. Besides the fact that it's my idea of fun and it keeps me off the streets, our country is just about the only big game left on Spaceship Terra. That, and our government's hubristic attempts to become the world's police force, behooves a skeptical posture "inside/outside USA."

Aside from all that, it's just too damn easy to become a member of Uncle Sam's cheerleading squad. All you need do is ignore every piece of critical evidence and attack all critical opinions with the tenacity and instinct of a bull in the ring. Just like a good propagandist. Or journalist. (Oops! I did it again! Naughty, naughty America-basher! No freedom fries or bread pour moi!)

The real truth--the heart of it which I try to hide with my cynical wit--is that I love America. Not as a Romeo who sees his Juliet as a flawless pearl, but as one who sees the beauty and the flaws and loves because of and in spite of the latter. Unconditional love, however, does not require blinders. I'm like the anonymous umpire back in the day who said, "I calls 'em as I sees 'em."

So when I write, for example, that I believe that the US government allowed the release of the Iraqi torture pictures in order to foment greater anti-American sentiment in the Arab/Muslim parts of the planet, triggering more terrorist incidents which would give our government excuses to enact more police-state legislation here, I am calling the situation as I see it. (R.I.P., Michael Berg)

And if I lambaste SUV owners as being wasteful of finite resources and insensitive to the safety and needs of other drivers, I am weighing facts (e.g., the ever-increasing price of gasoline and the pathetic MPG ratings of SUV's) and opinions (I think SUV's are butt-ugly behemoths and a reflection of their drivers' arrogant stupidity).

My current fantasy involves me being elected President of the US--it could happen--and calling the heads of the Big Three automobile manufacturers in America in a conference call. "Here's the deal, gentlepeople," I say into the visiphone. (Hey, I'm the POTUS. Remember?) "Either you increase the fuel economy of all your SUV models at least five-fold, or you'll have to rename each of your SUV lines after an extinct species. And only those names that are on my list. Otherwise, no more subsidies." Since I believe in calling things what they are, I would find it entirely appropriate to name these Reebok Jeeps after the wooly mammoth, the Tyrannosaurus rex and the dodo.

As I said before, I love America. And since my love is true, not blind, the honeymoon is long since over and the marriage has begun. In an earlier essay, I quoted Richard Belzer-Da Belz to those in the know--from his appearance on a Bill Hicks tribute. His statement--quoted then, paraphrased now--was that America is loved and hated from within and without in part because every possible good and every possible evil can flourish here.

I believe we have a greater capacity for good than we've so far exhibited. In terms of racial populations, we're still amongst the most open societies in the world. Our multitudes contain polyglots of races, religions, musics and cultures. Our diveristy is truly our strength. And all we need do is stop acting as if the planet is our raw resource supplier and recognize that we can't have and eat our cake anymore. Ever.

It means growing up. It means trading instant gratification for delayed gratification. It means no more quick fix or quick sex, but forethought and foreplay. It means taking pleasure in measured doses, rather than gulping it down all at one go. It means hybrid, fuel cell and electric cars, not gas-guzzling SUV's. It means running fans half the time instead of A/C all the time. It means recognizing that freedom isn't free from responsibility, but it is far from joyless or onerous. It just means being--here's another French word for the Francophobes--reasonable. And then maybe the rest of the world won't hate us so much.

Grok: it actually takes less energy to care than not to. Think about it: all those people who say "I don't care" about, let's say, pollution. Half of them are so pissed off when they respond you can actually see the steam boiling out of their heads. Wasted energy. And the other half say it apathetically, which means they didn't have all that much energy to begin with and they just wasted some they can't spare saying with their mouths what they were already saying with their bodies.

Now dig: Those people who really care don't waste time getting choleric on a soapbox: they just go and do. No wasted effort: they apply Brunner's Law, which states: "Do what needs doing, but only what you feel like doing." If you feel like doing it, it ain't work; if you don't, then it is work and you won't do it as well as someone who loves doing it. "It" could be anything from ringing doorbells for Greenpeace to pleasing your partner in bed. (Which could be said to be parts of the same thing under the Gaia principle. But that's another essay. Maybe.)

I realize I'm recapitulating part of last week's sermon, but as Jack White says, it bears repeating: what you love to do isn't work and work is what you don't love doing. All creative work is play, and that law doesn't just apply to music, theatre, etc. Lots of cooks love their jobs. So do lots of mechanics. Even dishwashers can get in a groove.

If I had to--say, at gunpoint--boil this essay down into 25 words or less for postcard purposes, it would read thus: "Simplify. Love what you do, and do as much of it as you want." Impossible dreams? If you think so. Possible realities? If you think so.