America has talked its throat dry on politics. Collectively, as a country, we’re rubbing our necks from the whiplash of the last six months and politely holding up our hands for a cup of water. We’re parched.
We’re not done with politics, of course. As a free nation, we can never be done with politics. But we’re resting. We’re talking an “off” day from the rigorous mental routine we’ve subjected ourselves to for the last long while.
We’ve talked healthcare and women’s rights and free speech and immigration until our lips are still moving but we’re not sure words are coming out. Here are a few signs we’re suffering from political burn out and calling a time-out:
The Unicorn Frapp
Apparently, Starbucks knew the world needed something new to get worked up about. It intuited, with its Starbucks-y sixth sense of commercialism, that we needed something sparkly and multicolored and basically liquefied candy to fuss and fidget over.
The sheer volume of words devoted to shaming or proclaiming the Unicorn Frappuccino has achieved a level of absurdity almost equal to the red cup fiasco of Christmases past. Thank you, Starbucks, for reliably dosing us with caffeine, sugar, and controversy. My brain needed a boost in another direction.
Cue the fastest downfall in history, a plummeting elevator to the basement level. One minute he’s pulling in $100 million in ad sales per year for Fox News, and the next minute he’s fired, ousted, without so much as a farewell speech.
It turns out you can’t sexually harass women for decades and get away with it, no matter your revenue. The nation has had to put up with a lot lately, and the nation is done with this. There will be no negotiations. O’Reilly was on vacation in Italy at the time of his dismissal, so maybe the pope can deal with him.
Lambs in sacks
Scientists have managed to successfully bring a 23-week-premature lamb to maturity in an artificially engineered womb. This means science is one step closer to saving the lives of the 15 million medically fragile premature babies born each year.
As a mom to three children all born prematurely with long hauls in the NICU, I’m raising my hands in hallelujah for this one. It’s also a sign that we’re thinking past the present and building a future for the next little people to run.
Newest television series lineup
We’re bringing our dark humor and snark to Hollywood because we’ve got to get it out somehow. It’s cathartic, a meditation in fiction. We’ve got Neil Patrick Harris in “A Series of Unfortunate Events” singing and setting traps to take down the Baudelaire orphans.
Drew Barrymore is a dead real estate agent feeding off the living, while also juggling her role as wife and mother in the dark comedy, “The Santa Clarita Diet.” We always knew Drew was a multitasker.
Opening with a murder at a trivia night fundraiser in the local school, “Big Little Lies” (based on the book by Liane Moriarty) delves into the dark side of the PTA and what you wish you could say out loud in the carpool lane. Reese Witherspoon and Nicole Kidman play it perfectly cool and creepy.
Clearly, we need to direct our evil chuckles somewhere. Where better than primetime?
We’re head-over-heels for America’s Greatest Pastime
Baseball has always been the golden child of America, the catchall sport that captures toddlers with T-ball and makes them devotees all the way to the major leagues. It is bipartisanship at its best.
This year, we hit it big with record attendance at the World Baseball Classic. Over 50,000 fans flooded Dodger Stadium for the championship, and 3.1 million tuned in from home to watch the U.S. trounce Puerto Rico for the win. Because sometimes you just need to buy yourself some crackerjacks and root for the home team.
While we’re certainly not throwing in the towel on the political front, we are in the middle of a much-needed breather, a commercial break from the tug-of-war along the usual party lines. Just like any good halftime, we’re taking pause to reset our hearts and minds for the months and years ahead.
I’ll toast to that with my Unicorn Frapp.