My Facebook friends have been
posting some extremely funny comments about the upcoming Presidential election.
I’ve sworn off sharing my own opinions on this on Facebook. Too many friends of
a different political persuasion have added snarky remarks to my posts.
I recently made the following
comment on a political cartoon on someone else’s page.
Oh
snap. Glad I had deadlines the last few days and have been taking a break from
CNN. Trying to stay on the high road is like having to pee something fierce,
but there’s no bathroom nearby, and you’re forced to walk around with your
knees pressed tightly
together.
After I read what I wrote, I
thought: There is definitely a blog post
in this. Here then are some other things that staying on the high road is
akin to.
It’s like going to confession as a
teenager and telling the priest that your sin was that you lied to your
parents. Meanwhile, you know you should really confess to what you and Buzzy
were doing in the back seat of his car last weekend. But you also know that if
you share that, there will be hell to pay. So the guilt is killing you.
Taking the high road is like going
to a wine tasting when you’re the designated driver. You can have just a tiny
sip of a few of the offerings. Meanwhile your friends are flying high on the
Barolo, the Brunello and the Prosecco. You’re following the waiters around the
room, eating as many canapés as you can grab off their trays, but you’re still
bitter and resentful. Everyone else is having a great time and you… well,
you’re committed to taking the dry road.
It’s like finding the
quintessential pastry café in Vienna. Your tongue is literally hanging out as
your mouth waters over the elegant sweets. Your traveling companions have
plates full of the little morsels. You order just herbal tea, because you’ve
promised your GP you will not put on one additional ounce during this trip.
You’ll keep to 1100 calories a day, pushing toward your goal of losing another
ten pounds.
Women who work in Manhattan will
appreciate this high-road metaphor. You’re forced to wear five-inch heels every
day so you look professional and have more height. What you long for is ballet
flats. They’re so much more comfortable. But no; flats are not an option,
because you’ve chosen a career on the high-heel road.
The cover story of a recent issue
of Time magazine brought to my
attention a reason why taking the high road is especially challenging. Those
who treasure a well-turned phrase have dozens of zingers careening around in
their brain, but on their restricted path, they can’t use any of them. I was particularly inspired by
some of late-night-TV comedian Samantha Bee’s bon mots. (She has her own TBS show, Full Frontal.) Because I’m on that high road, I can’t tell you who
her target was. You’ll just have to guess.
Remember: I’m not saying these
things. “People” are saying them. OK. Not “people;” Samantha Bee. Here are
three of her more imaginative aphorisms: “tangerine-tinted
trash-can fire,” “screaming carrot demon” and “America’s burst appendix.”
Speaking of bursting, my brain is
about to explode. It’s so full of colorful descriptions I’d love to hurl at
someone who shall remain nameless. It’s a cruel world. And it’s even crueler up
here on that high road.
