Despair

There were so many things I started to write about today. Things that really matter, and shape the world we live in. Even little things that don't matter to a lot of people, but matter to me. I thought I should comment on how the Bush administration has changed its mind about the word "private" for describing the accounts that will undo Social Security. Now the word "private" has been declared a pejorative, and must not be used by the media. (See Talking Points Memo for the best analysis of the current battle.) I thought I should comment on the list of dietary guidelines released by the government today. Oh I could go on and on about trying to eat nine servings of fruits and vegetables everyday, how the vegetable should be the center of the meal, and the protein portion its co-star, but most people won't change their diets. We've had lists like this before. I thought I should write about Richard Pombo, the chairman of the House Resources Committee, who thinks that wilderness designations can only be applied to lands that have been untouched by humans. A rather daunting standard to meet, because it means that even a logging road in a National Forest will disqualify an area from protection. Pombo's philosophy can be summed up this way, if we have already intruded on the lush sanctity of the tall trees, why bother to restore it to its grandeur? I thought I could even add a photo of the Mount Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest area, so readers could see where the new Wild Sky wilderness area is being proposed. But then, I thought I should write about the devastating news that 31 soldiers died today in Iraq, or how Sy Hersh said that Iran was next on our list for war. But maybe I need to say something about the senate vote today on Condoleeza Rice. There's enough angst in that for me to bury my head and weep. And then of course, there's Alberto Gonzales, our own torture master who will likely be confirmed, as well.

I don't even want to talk about why I find it hard to read Atrios anymore. I see the number of comments can reach over 500 in two hours. The echo chamber is reverberating, reverberating, reverberating. What are we saying to each other? I don't know anymore. But I'm sure it's all very important. I think I'll leave it up to be far better minds than mine to sort it all out.