It’s a mad, mad world out there right now. Crazy mad, chaotic mad, out-of-control mad. Scary mad. Have you noticed?
Hunter S. Thompson did, years ago, and here’s what he had to say about it –
“This is the kind of depth and clarity that cuts through the noise. The world is shifting at a speed that overwhelms our ability to process it, leaving us disoriented in a storm of change. Political upheaval, technological acceleration, and information overload collide, shaping a reality that feels increasingly ungraspable.
“This is not just disorientation, but a calculated condition, one that benefits those who profit from confusion and division. When chaos feels inevitable, the most radical act is to slow down, think critically, and reclaim control over what we engage with and how we respond. We can build spaces for real discourse, support independent journalism, and resist the pull of reactionary narratives. Together, we can steady ourselves in the storm, not by fighting the wind, but by anchoring to what is real.”
Hunter S. Thompson
What I want to write here is encapsulated in Hunter’s statement. I could stop right here, but what fun is that? So again I’ll ask you the question.. have you noticed?
I have. I’m retired, so I spend a lot of quiet, peaceful days pursuing whatever passions move me forward at this stage of my life, which sometimes is no more than a walk downtown and a beer at my favorite bar. I read the news more now, and watch the TV news now more than I ever did before. I was told, in an article in the editorial section of the Seattle Times this morning, that if I didn’t understand what was happening with the vast majority of Americans, and why, then I probably was living in a bubble. A bubble with thick walls.
From my bubble
I loved that article… for lots of reasons. She nailed me, and it was true. I am living in a bubble, and she proved it to me with several examples. Only difference is my bubble doesn’t have thick walls. The most popular network TV shows right now? They’re awful. Talent shows are simply popularity contests, and everything else is sex, violence and drugs. I can hear you now… “Well, two out of three ain’t bad…”
I was about to dive into all the senseless killings and all the corruption in every level of our governmental bodies, from local city councils to the federal government… how we’re all so fed up with all the lies and deception from those we’re supposed to be able to trust, undermining what fiber of integrity we are trying to hold on to… but I won’t go there.
Instead, I want to ask you… are you inside a bubble, or outside, in the “real” world, credit cards maxed, drinking craft beers, hating what the establishment has done to us… maybe paying off a horrendous student loan for a degree in a field you’re no longer interested in? And if so, does that all feel fairly normal to you?
If you commute to work every day in any of our large cities, I strongly advise you not to do the terrible math… that of figuring out how many hours a week you spend behind the wheel, in traffic. Just figure 10 years, virtually none of you will be doing the same job that long anyway. So, a modest hour each way, on average, is 10 hours a week, 40 hours a month, 480 hours a year, pretty much… divide that by 24 hours in a day, and you will spend 20 days a year in traffic. In 10 years that amounts to 200 days, or 6 1/2 months, of your life, white-knuckling it.
Of course, if you love your work, it might just be worth it. Do you really love your work? How many of you are holding on to a job you don’t like because it’s a survival issue?
You know who I think had this “life” thing figured out, probably for centuries? Craftsmen, craft people. People who chose to do a thing and do it really well, those good souls who provided a service or an object of some sort. Those shoe repairmen, those carvers, woodworkers, painters, who spent their days quietly and patiently working at their task, concentrating on it, always refining it, with always the same attention to quality and consistency. I think that maybe that was their bubble, their silent refuge from what has probably always been a certain madness in the “outside world.”
Here’s a song written by Graham Nash, for Crosby, Stills & Nash
Just a song before I go
To whom it may concern
Traveling twice the speed of sound
It’s easy to get burned
When the shows were over
We had to get back home
And when we opened up the door
I had to be alone
She helped me with my suitcase
She stands before my eyes
Driving me to the airport
And to the friendly skies
Going through security
I held her for so long
She finally looked at me in love
And she was gone
Just a song before I go
A lesson to be learned
Traveling twice the speed of sound
It’s easy to get burned
Yup, Too easy to get burned. Burned in a way we sometimes don’t even notice until our skin starts falling off. I mean, I’m living in a bubble, yes… but I also know what life is like outside my little bubble. I did it for 37 years, good years but sometimes white-knuckling my way through those difficult times we all go through. So I can see fairly clearly, the outside world of today through my little bubble and see how it has changed, gotten tougher, uglier than I would ever have imagined.
Yeah, Graham, I got burned several times… not severely but, I’m told, enough to leave a few emotional scars. And twice the speed of sound? Oh yeah, and let me tell you, the skies were not always friendly. I had to ride the freight elevator to the 22nd floor of the Atlanta Merchandise Mart for a 3-night-a-week gig that lasted exactly one year. I was always on it alone, and it was dark. Guess I specifically remember elevators in the busy times of my life, as I grew up in a town that was 70 miles from the nearest elevator.
Another elevator ride, this one to the 14th floor of a downtown building, already late for a creative meeting with an ad agency, late because of white-knuckling it in traffic. Slacks & jacket, (no tie, ever) and briefcase, a touch sweaty. Atlanta is hot and humid in the summertime. Ever move an electric piano and an amp up the stairs and into a hotel, for a 3-hour gig, while wearing a tux and being sweaty in it before you even get set up? I have, dozens of times in those first few years in Atlanta. Did it pay off? Yes. Did it take its toll? Yes. Was I finally able to move beyond those difficult times? Yes, until they came back around 20 years or so later. Did my skin finally fall off? Not yet…
Anyway, sure, it could get crazy back then, even a little wacky, but not the out-of-control bazerko that it is now. I see it through my little bubble, and experience it when I actually crawl out of my bubble and go into town. Seems the bigger the town, the more, and more dangerous the chaos. And I have to tell you, Seattle Times, that I do understand what is happening with the vast majority of Americans, and why. Even from my beautiful island bubble.
I’m usually far away from the fire and all the dangerous flames now . See, I’m cool… not in the hip sense, but in the temp sense. There’s no speed of sound in my bubble, no fear of being burned. Sorry, Seattle Times, but if you think I’m ignorant of the outside world, you’re wrong. Living in a cave now, one would be ignorant of all outside. In my bubble however, I see it all right, I even participate in it when absolutely necessary. But I’m perfectly content here in my quiet, serene little bubble… hoping it doesn’t get popped anytime soon.
Just a thought before I go
A lesson to be learned
Traveling twice the speed of sound
It’s easy to get burned
Steve Hulse
