![]() ![]() I don’t know, I just find when the news comes on I switch the channel. Or, as there are billions of lives, my sadness is alive inside the recognition that billions of lives never mattered. or our American optimism the sadness lives in the recognition that a life can not matter. The sadness is not really about George W. ![]() Then, like all things impassioned, this voice takes on a life of its own: You don’t know because you don’t fucking care. Mostly I resist the flooding, but in Bush’s case I find myself talking to the television screen: You don’t remember because you don’t care. Sometimes my mother’s voice swells and fills my forehead. You don’t remember because you don’t care. All the non-reporting is a distraction from Bush himself, the same Bush who can’t remember if two or three people were convicted for dragging a black man to his death in his home state of Texas. However Bush came to have won, he would still be winning ten days later and we would still be in the throes of our American optimism. ![]() I want to continue watching, charting, and discussing the counts, the recounts, the hand counts, but I cannot. ![]() After the initial presidential election results come in, I stop watching the news. Cornel West makes the point that hope is different from American optimism. ![]()
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