Yesterday was rather a weirding day. I felt rather like Alexis d’Toqueville.
Had to run a series of errands. First was a haircut. Greater Metropolitan Arab is an Alibam boonie town. Population is about 8K; rush hour lasts maybe ten minutes if we subtract out the folks who drive to Huntsville to work. But the streets are paved and we sorta have town utilities. They don’t work very well, but…
Anyway, to get to my hair person’s new shop I had to go out to the real outskirts of town where the paving has ended and the denizens are more real than in town. That’s the charm of by hair cutter. She is an Earth Goddess type, not in the Jewish sense although she has many qualities of a sage Jewish mother. Easily one of the most intelligent and insightful people I know. Easily the most thought provoking.
Sadly, she was in the midst of a family spat over some overly vicious canine. Violence was declared to be necessary. And I found myself trying to convince her that since it was family all that would occur was nastiness and hatred.
It was in the middle of this that I had an insight into the recent election. One of my colleagues, Magnetic Inductance Electric Field, describes himself as a member of the “Angry Men” cult, a group of lower and middle class men (?) was are fiscally frustrated and hence angry. My hair cutter, Displacement Current Spin, was an “Angry Woman.” Surprisingly, however, she was in a strange state of being rational and ignoring the rationality. Because she felt herself threatened by this animal.
At that instance, I realized the recent election had been supremely, abnormally rational. The “Angry” people wanted to reduce their insecurity and had reasoned that they had to elect someone out of the usual. What isn’t clear is whether the rationality ended at that point. Waiting Is.
My hair reduced in total length, just in time for the first freeze of the season, I departed a bit negatively. My hair cutter is also a superb painter of landscapes. She had recently executed a commission to paint a religionist iconography as a memorial to a friend’s deceased child. The schmaltz was nauseating and a travesty of her excellence. And I had to contain my reaction lest I hurt her feelings.
Did I mention that like most residents of the outskirts she goes about armed with a rather ineffectual firearm? And yes, I know that is redundant.
So next I motored to the MalWart to acquire buns of cinnamon for She Who Must Be Obeyed. This is easily the most dangerous place in town. Not only do they purvey noxious toxins, but the clientele is largely “Angry” people who are all armed. I am always reminded of the fellow in the Floridas who was shot in the twenty-items-or-less queue for having twenty-one items to be rung up. And the fellow who shot him was given community service which is definitely a confusing punishment.
Happily no explosions while I was there so I could motor on to refill my petrol tank – at a station run by a person of colour from the subcontinent and hence wary of his customers at all times – and visit the postal service office where a dim view of firearms is extreme and vigilant.
And thence to home. Where I realized that the morning was rather like that Gahan Wilson cartoon I saw as a college freshman of two buzzards in a tree with one saying “Patience, Hell, I’m gonna kill something.”
Another joyous morning in Alibam.