In the past, I have written articles and columns that have been somewhat critical of American politics and international policies, mostly because it is easier to complain about these things in a high school newspaper than it is to actually do something about them. Is America wracked by aristocratic, illegitimate, hierarchic structures that spur social and economic disparity and create poverty and crime? Is our society ravaged by drug laws and mandatory minimum sentencing that give us the highest rate of incarceration in the word, disproportionately target minorities, and give us laughably hypocritical and illogical advertisements about drug users supporting terrorists? Is our foreign policy so self-serving and flawed that it will eventually cause unfathomable violence? The answer to these questions, and others, is: I don’t care. These issues are as important to me as Prince Charles is to a properly functioning British government. Over Spring Break, I had a moment of clarity in which I realized that I live in the best nation in the world. I discovered that even though I don’t engage in flag-waving fervor, I am in fact a patriot who just happens to be on the sidelines, much like Drew Bledsoe. I made this discovery while watching Tonya Harding punch Paula Jones in the face so many times that Paula’s nose was almost reduced to normal size. Celebrity Boxing is the America that I love. I like living in a country where we have verbs like “super size.” I like that Jerry Springer and Jesse Ventura can hold high political offices. I like that talent and the ability to entertain aren’t prerequisites to being in the entertainment industry (thank you Rosie O’Donnell and Carrot Top). I like that we can overlook our cultural mistakes (XFL, Enron, Glitter) and focus on our successes (Furbies, Survivor, Lyme Disease vaccinations). Unlike John Rocker in downtown Queens, these colors don’t run.
I don’t mind that America is such a powerful nation militarily, and I like that we’ll occasionally stick up for weak countries that have so few arms that they could play drums for Def Leppard. I don’t mind that “whazzup” is an accepted part of our vernacular or that the House of Representatives is filled with more weirdos than the David Lynch fan-club. It might bother me that I can choose from about ten times as many ice cream flavors as I can news sources, but then I remember that I really like ice cream, perhaps even more than I like news sources. America is the greatest theater in the world, showcasing hilarious plays that are so absurd that they make Rosencrantz & Guildenstern Are Dead look like a flow chart. We are an unpredictable nation whose rhythm is about as regular as Dick Cheney’s heart, and that can make the USA a very exciting and comical place to live in.
Sometimes it is necessary to take a step back from all the problems that exist and remember that it is not a crime to be alive, happy, and comfortable. Of course, there are many people who do not recognize their social responsibility to help the millions who live in destitute conditions. There are many who either ignore the egregious injustices in our society or don’t even notice them. But then there are those who feel guilty just for walking past The Gap or a Nike shoe store, those who can’t witness a patriotic or sentimental gesture without cringing and pointing out hypocrisy, those who see panda cubs at the zoo and think of brutal human rights violations in China instead of cuddly teddy bears, and those who can’t watch a John Ashcroft press conference without punching a hole in the wall. Sometimes it is necessary to see the wrong in the world, concede that, at the moment, there is very little you can do about it, and realize that the world is a senseless, but comical, place that you will only hurt yourself trying to make order out of.