I also found the Democratic Hanggliders’ email oddly relatable.
Does anyone even remember what an empty inbox looks like? For all the emails that I get that I delete on sight, there are near as many where I make that fatal cognitive error: “Oh, I’ll read that later.” Slowly they’ve accumulated to the point where I have no idea why my Unread count is so high. I trim the emails off the top, but always down to a new baseline, well into double digits. Zero is not a value that exists in that realm any longer. It’s like Hoarders without the physical space component.
In all my daydreams lately, my mind has been wandering to abandoned places. Feeding into this, and more likely because of it, I’ve pulled out Fallout: New Vegas again. The folks at Bethesda have done an incredible thing: built a world that is at once foreign and nostalgic. Everything is dilapidated and most of it’s deserted, but Sinatra is coming out of a gritty radio. Everything is irradiated, but there are still billboards for old-fashioned diners dotting the busted up roads full of ruined cars. There’s a kind of longing for that apocalyptic shell that gets us playing these games, and watching things like The Walking Dead. A kind of reduction, and therein simplification, comes out of our fantasized apocalypses. You’re not worried about inboxes, or phone calls, or running trains. Everything you can find is a treasure.
No one asks you what Barack’s choice of pumpernickel means for foreign policy.
I can get behind that.