As a political junkie I’ve been overdosing on the impeachment hearings. It’s turned out to be a fantastic way to detox. Watching Adam Schiff drone on and on, repeating himself for hours on end is as good a rehab program as it gets. I think my craving to keep up on current affairs is definitely waning. Sure, there are theatric attempts to keep me riveted but its tedious to hear the actors read the same script 1,276 times a day in a loop. It’s bad enough to be lectured on how the American people are too stoopid to choose a President on their own at the ballot box, and certainly not qualified to put 2 and 2 together. I may not be a genius but I’m pretty sure the answer is 22, like my Smith and Wesson.
As a writer I relish a good story line. I hungrily devour movies featuring actors who skillfully portray their characters. Although politicians and actors have a lot in common—they both live in a world of make-believe and crave fame and recognition—I prefer that they stick to their respective roles. Drama is best when left to professional actors and I have no interest in their politics. Likewise, when politicians attempt to play a dramatic role it usually falls flat. I’m so sick of the two factions bleeding into each other that I want to gag, which probably is a good thing because with any addiction, aversive therapy has proven quite effective. Still, I have a hard time controlling the rubber-neck impulse to watch the train wreck dominating television and radio.
Most addictions are health hazards and manifest symptoms like high blood pressure, mind numbness, double vision, hair loss and teeth grinding. Political junkies are not immune. These impeachment hearings have me pulling out my hair while uttering piercing cries and cuss words like I have Tourette’s. Although Adam Schiff’s eyes seem to be glued open, it’s frustrating when he doesn’t so much as blink when I throw shoes at his head.
My best recourse is to go cold turkey and shut off all media outlets until the whole debacle is over. I keep thinking I’ll have the will power to stop watching political theatre on my own. But I think it might be time to duck tape myself to my chair out of reach of the remote. The problem with that is that this circus isn’t going to end. It will likely never stop. It might be a better use of duck tape to use it on the mouths of the politician actors and the actor politicians. Maybe after I revive myself with naltrexone I’ll do just that. In the meantime I better refill my popcorn.