I felt a twinge of guilt when I got home Wednesday night. All the online news sites were full of coverage of the State of the Union address. Millions of “serious” adults had, no doubt, devoted the evening to watching Obama’s speech.
I, on the other hand, did what I usually do. I went and played in the woods on a fat bike. Didn’t give the big speech a second thought, really.
It’s not that I don’t care. I just don’t need the dog-and-pony show of a constitutionally mandated annual address to know the state of the union—it’s fucked up. And I didn’t need to hear the Big Man say anything to feel reassured that we’re in better hands than we were for eight years. I still think he’ll steer us onto the right course. But I have my own course to steer.
The stuffed suits in D.C. can have the State of the Union address. I can read about it in the New York Times.
I felt it was my duty to confirm the State of Blue Dot. And I slept better knowing what a fine state that is.