Sunday, August 19, 2012

"...I Wonder If It Might Actually Be Pre-Election Syndrome...."

Haven't heard a lot, in the current political campaign, about flip flops.

Which seems a little odd.

Especially given, that...

1) It is, after all, a political campaign and nothing energizes one candidate by being able to bitchslap another candidate about their flip flops.

2) It is, after all, still summer and pretty much everybody I know wears flip flops.

Ar-ar.

Burst of ba dum bump notwithstanding, it is a genuine curiousity that there hasn't been more focus on the he said/he said/you said/then you said part of that wacky and wonderful process electoral.

Then again, it's still summer. There's still plenty of time.

In recent years, though, I've come to realize that we, the people (in order to form a more perfect union...and, by the way, how, exactly do you form something MORE perfect? Isn't perfect as good as it gets?) have our own little annoying tradition during these campaigns.

The pivot.

This little choreography has become more and more evident in recent times as a result of the free access that so many minds (word used loosely) have to offer insightful opinion (term used sardonically) as well as spirited, but always engaging debate (term used with outright sarcasm) on the myriad Internet sites that include that most algae topped, filter clogged gene pool known as the "comments section".

And what, you might be contemplating, exactly is the pivot?

Well, first of all, in order to illustrate, I have to preface.

And offer that I've already re-named it.

The reason being that "pivot" is not only a commonly understood term for a physical motion, most often employed by basketball players, but also a poltical motion as well, most often employed as a strategy by a candidate determined to keep the campaign "on message" and resist, with all their might, the push/pull of media that is equally determined to annoyingly shove aside the candidate's positions on issues of national and global importance in favor of getting to the bottom of that whole "did you actually tie your dog to the top of your car on that vacation trip" queston.

And let's don't even get started on that birther thing that keeps popping up like herpes...or Kardashians.

Six of one.

So, given all those possibilities for both definition and distraction, I decided the best way to go was to change direction and call it something else.

Pivoting to prevent potential problems with pivot, as it were.

I call it The Sylvia.

Some years ago, my circle of friends, at the time, included a delightful, warm hearted, quirky, but sweet and savvy lady. Her range of gifts, talents and, especially, people skills made her a valuable person to know, as well as a wonderful blessing to call friend.

Like many of us, though, Sylvia was, as mentioned, quirky.

And her particular quirk was the source of much affectionate amusement amongst all of us in that friend circle.

Primarily, it was about PMS.

Given the male DNA that has afflicted me during my life, I'm sincerely the last person on terra firma who would minimize or mock the magic of the menstrual, but even the female folk in our group would testify today that Sylvia elevated, apparently instinctively and, to this day to my knowledge, unknowingly, her focus on the flow to an art form.

And she wove it into the conversation, any conversation, with a seamless precision that made those microscopic surgeons look like construction workers in full jackhammer mode.

No matter what the topic, no matter what the tone or texture of the conversation, Sylvia always found a way to bring it back to the sinister syndrome.

To pivot, so to speak.

This lovable personality blip became such an endearment that the rest of us, admittedly childishly but always affectionately, began to "test" her  by purposely, but unbeknownst to her, steering the peer group patter into some uncommon territory, not to wax prolific on the obscure, but to simply put a football down in front of Sylvia and then watch and wait to see how long it would take for her to place kick that pigskin right between the PMS uprights.

For example...

"Hey, guys, did you hear the other day that they think they might have actually found the Loch Ness Monster?"........

Sylvia, unquestionably educated and sophisticated, was always at the ready to engage as lively conversationalist.

"You know what, I did read about that in the paper or something the other day. They were saying that photographers are now using some kind of new high tech, super fast speed film that will enhance the details of the imaging. You know, not like the old Polaroid develop in the camera thing...it seemed like we were waiting forever for those to develop, remember? And the smell of that film fluid or whatever that was, it was like...actually, you know what? It smelled exactly like that prescription that the doctor gave me last week for my PMS..."

It was uncanny. She was a menstruation marvel.

A syndrome savant.

As to the readers comments on every blog, news site, web site between here and there?

No matter what the topic, no matter what the tone or texture of the conversation, more and more find a way to bring it back to blame Obama.

"I think this article about inexpensive ways to decorate the home by shoppping the dollar stores is really great. And it would be even greater if I had a home, which I do not, because I'm out of work because companies arent hiring and all because of Obama.."

Politics, like life, isn't really all that complicated.

And it's a natural instinct to blame the manager when the team's win loss record is in the crapper.

And Barack Obama hasn't done himself any favors with his performance.

But I'm pretty sure that he's not responsible for preventing people from decorating their homes by shopping the dollar stores.

Don't take my word for it.

Ask Sylvia.

Just be prepared to hear about cramps.





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