Around the grounds until you feel at home
Bald men on TV are talking about the candidates' debate that hasn't happened yet. Some of them are really really excited. The tiny, tinny TV is up in the corner of the newsroom, above a reporter leaving late night, last minute messages for officials who've gone home, and an editor who's talking to his e-mail. The TV's turned to news, turned on so it's there and turned down so it can't really be heard, even in Friday's falling quiet. But the bald men, and a woman wearing a powersuit and bob, they're punditing on without caring if we're catching all this. They're hyperventilating and I can't hear what they're saying, only the breathlessness. Some other bald man is speaking more confidently than hecould ever really be, more than I could ever really be, and he speaks in John Wayne voices and knows no one will ever come back and check what he said.
Hey hey hey, like Paul Simon sang, wherever he went. Wo wo wo.
The partisanship and blind belief are so bad I have to wonder if it's not all designed to dredge up my cynicism, because that too is a political tool of the powerful.