And so, like the roads and bridges and dams of the Eisenhower and
Johnson and Roosevelt administrations that were supposed to be budgeted
for, planned for and replaced as part of thoughtful, long-range
planners but never were and are now rotting out from underneath us…
of the Big Iron software systems from an age gone by ended up in the
hands of short-term, immediate-profit-driven consultant-types who saw
no reason why they shouldn’t patch and paint just enough life out of
those systems to last until they skipped out for the next gig…
behind systems buried way down deep in the heart of the organization
that no one knows how to fix anymore, and which continues to groan ever
louder and shudder ever harder under the weight of what continues to be
stacked on top of them.
[snipping Space Cowboys clip because it will just distract me with thoughts of how much I really want to own Heartbreak Ridge on DVD, becauseFuck Yeah Clint Eastwood is an actual blog]
Of course, any and all of this could be fixed.
All it requires is money: the political will to collect it and the discipline to spend it on what matters.
Which will never happen.
it would put millions of people back to work and rebuild the foundation
on which our future success and prosperity depends, but spending
billions on rebuilding infrastructure is now called Socialism, and
spending money on Socialism makes All Real Americans mad.
As opposed to pissing trillions away into endless wars half a world a away, which makes All Real Americans happy.
As in the past ten years, particularly during the whacked-out nationalistic summer of suck that was 2003 when almost no one wanted to talk about how everything the president was doing was insane, it’s completely infuriating that we are so determinedly not having this conversation.
I mean we’re not having it HARD. We’re standing here, it’s right in front of us, and we’re white-knuckled on the ropes holding on to try to keep from getting sucked into it. We’re throwing all this shit at it, as it yawns before us like a black hole, we’re throwing chairs and giant stuffed giraffes and basketballs, all this free-market crap, at it and talking about green jobs and retraining 52-year-old steelworkers to teach modern dance, and the conversation’s still there, and we’re not having it so loudly it’s drowning out everything else.
And when you bring up shit like this, that maybe we should put people back to work building things that need building, it sounds absolutely absurd because surely if it were that easy somebody would have done it, right? It can’t be that easy, nothing’s that easy, we have all this crap in the way. It’s impossible, say the men in the suits, it can’t be done. We appreciate your passion. We understand your point of view, but it’s impossible. Because we say it is.
Because there’s no such thing as justtaking giant piles of cash and throwing them at projects. There’s no such thing as doing the job and worrying about the consequences later. There’s no such thing as saying so fucking what somebody gamed the system, screwed up, abused our trust, look at all the other people that got helped.
There’s no such thing as doing any of that, except when there is. And I don’t know what scares me more, honestly, as we stand here ignoring the thing in front of us gnawing at our bones: That we will never reach such a point of extremity that we will ignore what others say is impossible, or that we will reach it, sooner than we think.