Whatev.

I always try to write about what's on my mind. But everything on my mind is either far too weighty or far too personal to dredge up for the qwerty treatment. Not that I don't consider readers of my blog to be friends--because I do. But frankly I don't think we need to get into the minutae of what's on my mind.

I'm beginning to believe more and more in that Jungian Giant Space Brain (or whatever the professionals call it) where we all share one huge, pulsating mind. So many things I read by other people are like parts of what is going on in my mind. The things that bother me seem to vex countless others as well.

I'm tired of the war. I'm tired of Americans bullying other Americans over differences of opinion. Opinions are one thing, but the words of one local blogger stray from the land of disagreement a bit:

I'll be honest -- I wish for the opportunity to kill you, if you think Ann Coulter has a valid point. I'd love to give you lead poisoning, I swear, because you do not deserve the blessing of liberty. ... That makes you unworthy to be my countryman. You can't die soon enough for my tastes.

As it happens I'm not even clear on what Coulter has said this time, yet I'm sure it's kind of tacky and conveniently timed to promote her latest book. Nevertheless, this reaction seems a bit extreme.

And it's that extremeness of reaction to everything that has left me feeling nothing. It's as though I've sat around and watched right wing and left wing Christians, Athiests and Jews all rev their motors in high gear for too long. Ironically, it's my engine burning out from the friction. Which is strange, because most people's friction actually comes from within themselves.

The other day I read a blog entry by a former columnist where she frothed at the mouth over people who drive SUVs. Her big idea was to Superglue bumper stickers to all SUVs that read: This Car Runs On The Blood Of U.S. Soldiers. That post came 3 days after the picture of her big boat, which I can only assume is solar-powered. On the actual day of the anti-SUV tirade she also posted pictures of her daughter--whose carbon footprint can only be guesstimated--reclining on leather furniture in their family's newly-remodled family room with lots of big windows. Did I mention they live in Michigan? Rooms with big windows are hard to heat and cool in Michigan. They require a lot of oil. Shall I superglue bumperstickers to her leather couch and loveseat?

This is the stuff that leaves me rolling my eyes. The splinters we wave triumphantly while we ignore the logs. And I'm as guilty as anybody for all the stuff I should say but don't. All the stuff I should do but don't. And all the times (like now) that I never shut up.