I'm a little afraid of what I might do tonight.
Two days ago on my way home from work I passed a sign that had been put up in a neighbor's yard: "Meeting Friday Night about [Our Common Road]"
This winter this guy took about 30 acres of open pasture -- a Civil War battlefield -- and subdivided it and put up about 10 Hummer-Houses. (You can actually see part of it in this post.) People are starting to move into the houses now. Traffic on the little dirt road has tripled, quadrupled, since he did this.
I know what this guy wants to do: He wants to agitate to get our road paved.
He claims his house -- the first to be built on that pasture -- is dusty from the road. Damned right his house is dusty -- he plunked it down in a peninsula of pasture, surrounded on three sides by the road, and not a tree or shrub has he planted to shield the house. A spectacularly stupid bit of home-siting. A boy of five could have told him not to put his house there. (Several boys of five, lined up on their tricycles, shook their heads sadly and looked chopfallen as the bulldozers broke ground.)
But here's what's got me worried. In my interior monologue I am making this guy a scapegoat for every goddamned avaricious, mendacious, soul-destroying crime against sanity perpetrated by beauty-hating, know-nothing, land-raping, Iraq-invading, home-schooling, Christ-insulting, religion-perverting, Kerry-slandering, Abu-Ghraib-denying, history-mangling, language-destroying, WMD-inventing, plutocrat-tax-relieving, wingnut-judge-appointing ASSHOLE in the last five years.
Do you know, this morning a woman drove past me with a personalized license plate that said GOP GIRL and some frother bumperstickers -- and I flipped her the finger?
That's what I'm afraid of. I'm losing my mind. Civility gets harder and harder to fake.