I’ll admit it: I’ve been a bit of a jerk.
Whether it was berating alleged diaper-donning senators or calling out a governor for being harder to track down than Waldo, this semester in print gave me ample opportunity to stimulate my “pompous ass” gland.
But before we bury our heads in books absorbing information we’ll probably all forget by January, I invite you to join me as I permanently step down from my pedestal and look at things from a new perspective.
As much relevant political news as there is to comment on this week, I simply cannot in good conscience say one more word about politics.
Instead, I’ll say two: Politics suck.
If you’re like me — and based on the feedback I’ve received this semester, many of you are — you’re sick of it.
You’re sick of the lies, the empty rhetoric, the power plays and the deception at all levels of politics, from the White House to the University administration to your own families.
The natural response to all of this is cynicism. It’s easy to be suspicious toward politics, and sarcastic rejection of the establishment’s force-fed crap is as natural as passing Thursday’s Thanksgiving dinner on Friday.
But it’s not enough to just comment. Sitting back and making canned jokes or quoting great satirists just won’t cut it. Political cynicism makes for a tolerable column here and there, but ultimately, it’s an insufficient response to the world.
There’s a story once told by the late David Foster Wallace about two fish who were swimming along one day when an older fish passed by and asked, “How’s the water?”
After he passed, the two confused youngsters looked at each other and asked, “What the hell is water?”
As cliche or banal as the story might seem on the surface, it’s closer to an important truth than anything you’ll be tested on next week.
I invite you to sit in the Quad for 15 minutes and count how many people with headphones in ear or cell phone in hand stroll by completely unaware of their surroundings. It’s a pickpocket’s wet dream.
Our culture — whether because of the advent of new media, social networking or simply a generational trend of combined phenomena — has no idea what’s happening around it. Engagement has moved from interpersonal to intrapersonal.
I know this because I’m guilty of it, too.
I’m not the older fish of Wallace’s story. I’m the confused younger fish. Every letter of every word I’ve written this semester has been an attempt to figure out what the hell all of this is.
Why don’t we care about budget cuts? Why don’t we hold our politicians accountable for their actions? Why do we allow media to act irresponsibly?
These are among the many questions I’m concerned with, and my ignorance of the answers has fueled my writing from day one.
And while questioning and commentary are important starts, they are incomplete in and of themselves.
We have to actually change.
Sorry to drop the C-word, but I’m not speaking the iambic pentameter of Obama’s carefully crafted campaign rhetoric.
I’m talking about actual, personal change on the smallest imaginable scale.
Before we demand change from our politicians, we must demand it from ourselves. We must become compassionate, selfless and aware — as students and teachers, friends and strangers, young and old.
We must make the culture our own and force the politics to adapt.
Start today. Take an earbud out and have a conversation.
Hold the door open for someone, or just simply smile at a stranger. Imagine the difference 30,000 extra smiles per diem would make around campus.
Maybe it’s cheesy and trite, or maybe you gave up on the column after the consecutive poop jokes.
But if nothing else, this is an earnest and (nearly) completely sarcasm-free argument for a personal change in perspective.
Now, as I leave my place atop the skeptic’s platform abandoned and desolate, I depart not with a witty clincher or perfectly constructed punch line, but with a question:
How’s the water?
Cody Worsham is a 22-year-old mass communication senior from Baton Rouge. Follow him on Twitter @TDR_Cworsham.
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Contact Cody Worsham at [email protected]