James Wolcott: Wanted: Less Sorrow, More Anger
a friend once described me to another friend: ding's anger floats UP.
gay matt was never more correct. unlike my fellow progressives and democrats, i don't dither with blame. i know exactly whom to give the finger. not the hapless man or woman scraping to get by; not the clueless teenager who makes me fear for the future. my anger is aimed a little higher than that. i don't shuffle and hem and haw and qualify my anger (unless i'm at a work function and then, usually, a few glasses of wine overcomes that little restraint.)
but i failed in my anger the other night and i have my fellow presbyterians to blame. i unfortunately entered into a discussion of walmart and labor practices at a cocktail party at a local pub and it soon gained the attention of two conservative grad students. one i've already scrapped with, arguing over the failure of abstinence-only sex education. the other one looked like a perfectly charming, inocuous, church girl from texas.
until she shrugged, took a bite of her portabello sandwich and said, 'i don't care all that much about walmart. i mean, what else are those people going to do?'
i blinked. 80 different responses blazed on the tip of my tongue. and then i remembered that these were fellow church people, we were at a holiday cocktail party and i didn't know this woman at all. the financial analyst across from me was nervously looking at my face as i squinted at texas barbie and then deliberately turned away and joined another conversation.
my anger, instead of floating into a blazing fury right in her face, festered in my belly and gave me gas.
so here's a new year's resolution for dems and progs: for the sake of your lower GI, let fly the darts and arrows of your fury. get red in the face, spew some bile. get dirty with rage. let your anger float in the air and singe the heavens.