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Despair

I have never thought of myself as a depressed person, which I consider a luck-of-the-draw bonus in a world so overwhelmed with nuanced layers of angst-ridden disability.  I’m a “Boomer”, (OK?), with a blurred religio-laic moral center who protested, draft-dodged, marched and always questioned authority but never the right and wrong of things.  So, as I continue this self-assigned mission to release the voices in my head, it has suddenly occurred to me, that for most of this century, but maybe back to my first cogent thought, what I have considered positive energy, spawned by a finely developed sense of righteous indignation, may actually be utter despair.  The world I live in, the world I have always lived in, has relentlessly waged pointless war after pointless war, rewarded greed, abided cruelty and reimagined truth when truthfulness became inconvenient.  Hope, if that is or ever was a real thing, in the face of genocide, starvation, migrant camps, religious and ethnic intolerance, terrorism, climate change, Putin, Brexit and Trump and his body-snatched defenders, seems to be an unreachable brass ring.  If you parse the connective tissue of human evolutionary progress, how does your diagram ever get you to a happy ending?  Man…I hate the holidays!