In the Orwellian universe in which we now marinate, that uncomfortable reality in which rumors seamlessly transform into facts, and disinformation invades our bloodstream like a mutant virus, I wonder what the proper balance is while cowering under the bed and wearing a helmet, face mask and noise-cancelling headphones.
These last 18 months of America held spellbound under the everlasting stench of the Jan. 6 coup attempt and Donald Trump’s continuing odorous reign of dysfunction have been difficult to manage emotionally, even with a daily dose of 100 milligrams of Zoloft (up from 50 milligrams a year ago), an occasional chaser of Xanax and an uptick in cheap chardonnay.
The endless tweets, the 24/7 news circus with its countless cable TV “experts,” the GOP and its ringleader Tucker Carlson, have infiltrated every corner of my real and virtual worlds.
