CommentsBELL VIEW--The other day, walking through my residential neighborhood with my wife and two kids on a sunny Sunday afternoon, I forced down a rage eruption at the driver of a car who mistook our quiet street for a stretch of the 101 Freeway.
In the blur that raced past my frightened family, I detected a middle-aged driver – male, graying hair, eyes set in permanent disdain – slamming his foot down on the accelerator in an effort to make up time between stop signs. I mention the driver’s age because the sight of this grown-up jackass racing through my neighborhood on a Sunday afternoon caused me to wonder: Just how much havoc has this a-hole wreaked on the world since the unfortunate day of his birth?
Yeah. I’m angry. This is not new for me. My wife has convinced me not to scream in rage at speeding cars anymore because it frightens my children. And so, I swallow my anger and congratulate myself in having evolved past my own father – who used to throw rocks at cars.
Once again, I sense the soft murmuring of the anti-rage crowd, and I ask myself: why now? Of course, prominent Republicans – Mitch McConnell, Donald Trump, Lyndsey Graham – have used the rage of Democrats as a campaign rallying cry – but nothing these people say has a molecule of meaning to me. They might as well be banging on garbage can lids as opening their stinking pie holes. But everywhere, from all angles, I sense the great American whisper campaign asking: Can’t we all just get along?
No. I say. No. We cannot get along. As far as I’m concerned, anger represents a compromise. My old man threw rocks at cars; all I do is rage into the void.
I suspect most of this distrust of the current angry mood comes from a fear of female anger. Weak men like Trump and McConnell have never understood women who don’t pretend to respect them. And people unaccustomed to angry confrontation find such displays in women especially disconcerting.
Well I say bring it. As one angry white man I implore all angry women to pile their dry logs of rage onto the bonfire of national angst and add to the collective howl. Now is the time to storm the ramparts. Now is the time to tear down the curtains and smash the china. On November 6th we need to boil Mitch McConnell’s pet bunny on the stove of national rage.
Now is not the time for deep breathing or healing or centering. Now is the time for anger and rage and vengeance. This might very well be our last chance. Take walk through the woods on November 7th – but from now until election day, I say throw another log on the fire.
(David Bell is a writer, attorney, former president of the East Hollywood Neighborhood Council and writes for CityWatch.)
-cw
