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Greek to Me
Perchance To Hope
by Michael Raysses
I confess to being more than alittle relieved when I saw that this month’s theme was “cosmic community.” I’ve grown more than a little weary of all these earth-bound concerns, things like would we Americans finally pull our collective head out of our communal ass in time to elect someone President who doesn’t make me cringe every time I hear his voice? Someone who doesn’t make me wince when I introduce myself as American to a visitor from abroad, as I back peddle about the powers that be in this country in a manner that I would typically reserve for drunken uncles and inappropriately lewd cousins.
But deriding the vacuum of leadership that has characterized this country’s last eight years would be nothing more than fatuous blood sport in the absence of the prospect of a meaningful reversal of fortune. It’s the kind of whipsaw contrast that compels me to wonder what we have gained for enduring what felt like the unendurable.
In retrospect, one of the benefits gained has been a revitalized electorate. Though the number of people who voted in this last election increased only marginally from four years ago, what was palpable was the sense of urgency surrounding this election. This groundswell was so pervasive that it got people as resistant to activism as me to become involved. And I was privileged to do so. Manning telephones and speaking to prospective voters in all corners of the country gave me the unalloyed feeling that regardless of people’s station in the political spectrum, they were both engaged and dare I say, even enraged.
Thankfully, we found it within ourselves to pull out of the nosedive of the last eight years in what I am hoping is the nick of time. But for those of us who live in California, the victory achieved in the Pennsylvania Avenue Sweepstakes was blunted by the passage of a proposition (CA Proposition 8), crafted in fear and ignorance, fueled by demagoguery of the most rabid order. Somehow, there are those who think it their divine province to legislate how two people get to express their love for one another, and how the state should regard those two people in instances in which they are of the same sex. Even as I type those words, I shake my head in abject wonder—is this the best we can do? Don’t we have anything better to focus on than the issue of whether same sex couples have access to that most basic right, the right to declare their love for another, and to have that declaration be recognized by the society that they live within? If the answer to that question isn’t an emphatic “yes,” then you have way too much time on your hands. And for you, I offer the following:
There is a theory that the only way we will ever achieve any semblance of peace on this planet is by discovering extraterrestrials, thus unifying ourselves with a new target for our hatred, fear and disdain. That being the case, I see no reason why we don’t double down on our space program as a means of dealing with all the economic turmoil of the past few months. Think of it as a new-age New Deal for those who can’t bear the raw deal of a bailout. (Hang on a second while I check to see if the federal government still owns NASA…OK, we haven’t sold it yet to Sir Richard Branson, who wanted to make it a subsidiary of Virgin Airlines. Another bullet dodged…) We get our space program back up to warp-speed, we create jobs, some of which actually benefit people who live in this country, and we discover alien beings from outer space.
Naturally, our first response will be a military one, because let’s face it, nothing says “Welcome, stranger!” quite like a squadron of F-14s that have been scrambled faster than a diner omelet at closing time. After initial skirmishes with our intergalactic counterparts, we can then do what we do best—declare war on them. And why not? Historically speaking, war has been such a successful outlet for our highest expressions of exactly who we are. Unless, of course, you count the War on Drugs. Or the War on Terror. It’s funny, but the more I think about our relationship with war, and waging war, and the efficacy of war, I am left with the unavoidable conclusion that the only way to really address war is by declaring war on it. Is there a Doctor Strangelove in the house?
And when the folly of waging war on war itself becomes apparent, we can finally get back to those alien beings. Beyond hoping that none of them are extraterrestrial rap stars or intergalactic televangelists, my greatest wish is that they have highly reflective outer surfaces, so that as we examine them, we get the chance to see ourselves for exactly who we are: frightened, guardedly optimistic, and in dire need of a rallying force that elevates us over policies and conflicts that are beneath us. Most of all, I hope it will leave us with a renewed interest in the question of whether there really is intelligent life anywhere in outer space, including here on earth. That’s a proposition I would gladly embrace.