A Letter To Rev. Trotter
An exchange of letters to my good friend the Reverend Trotter.
Dear Reverend:
There was this article in today’s paper on the front page, the mental health issue, and I thought of you over coffee this morning. I didn't read it or anything...just saw it and said, "hmm, another article about the crazy people in Washington that the good Reverend Trotter works with."
I like the fact that the articles in regard to your livelihood find their way on the front page of the newspaper from time to time. That seems to happen less frequently with my livelihood; likely due to the fact that we have our own section I suppose. The fact that we do should make me feel proud about the profession that I've chosen, but somehow it doesn't really. My section seems out of the way and cold, buried near the K-Mart inserts and the classifieds. After the comics but before the junk.
And here is where you say..."What about Enron, Bill Gates, NASDAQ's decline, Pioneer closing? That's all front page news."
And you'd be right of course. In my narrow mindedness I've misappropriated the facts.
I want to believe it's the crazy people who make the news these days. That it's all suicide bombers and presidents with "shadow" governments playing nuclear war games. That we can park in the handicap spot near the mall and refuse all charges placed on our Karma bill. That now that all products can no longer be repaired we can shore up the economy by re-buying things we already own. That we've become a nation of sad eyed clowns holding up our daisy of Americanism as a shield against our rampant id.
But it's not "crazy people" that make the most news it’s just crazy...crazy. Like what you read to make "crazy" go down a little easier. "Woman drowns all four of her children: not insane says Texas jurors" "People might become more crazy if untreated, say Western specialists" "Museum of Glass needs more parking to come into state compliance" " New dog show is a bread apart".
Texas almost has it right. They’re just killing the wrong thing.
Slack
Dear Slack:
Heavy shit, man. I'm serious. I don't know what to say. Umm...the article was partly about how they're gonna start kicking people out of the nuthouse cause the state is making some pretty deep cuts in mental health care. So...they're gonna give quite a few crazies their walking papers along with two weeks supply of medicine...and down the road...somebody's gonna starve to death...and somebody else is going to shoot themselves...and somebody else is gonna freak out and manage to get himself/herself shot by the cops...and quite a few others will simply "disappear." And, worst of all, I guess, is that I'm watching this happen in front of my eyes and there's nothing I can do because in order for me to "prove" that these discharges are dangerous somebody apparently actually has to end up dead. You have to let the Titanic sink, it seems, before you can convince anybody that lifeboats are a good idea. For some reason, I'm particularly worried about this one guy I know out at the farm named Stewart--he thinks I'm a Catholic priest, by the way--and this big lady who wears her lipstick clown-style and carries around a teddy bear. They're the ones I think about at night.
Holding my daisy,
Rev. Trotter (Ret.)
Dear Reverend:
There was this article in today’s paper on the front page, the mental health issue, and I thought of you over coffee this morning. I didn't read it or anything...just saw it and said, "hmm, another article about the crazy people in Washington that the good Reverend Trotter works with."
I like the fact that the articles in regard to your livelihood find their way on the front page of the newspaper from time to time. That seems to happen less frequently with my livelihood; likely due to the fact that we have our own section I suppose. The fact that we do should make me feel proud about the profession that I've chosen, but somehow it doesn't really. My section seems out of the way and cold, buried near the K-Mart inserts and the classifieds. After the comics but before the junk.
And here is where you say..."What about Enron, Bill Gates, NASDAQ's decline, Pioneer closing? That's all front page news."
And you'd be right of course. In my narrow mindedness I've misappropriated the facts.
I want to believe it's the crazy people who make the news these days. That it's all suicide bombers and presidents with "shadow" governments playing nuclear war games. That we can park in the handicap spot near the mall and refuse all charges placed on our Karma bill. That now that all products can no longer be repaired we can shore up the economy by re-buying things we already own. That we've become a nation of sad eyed clowns holding up our daisy of Americanism as a shield against our rampant id.
But it's not "crazy people" that make the most news it’s just crazy...crazy. Like what you read to make "crazy" go down a little easier. "Woman drowns all four of her children: not insane says Texas jurors" "People might become more crazy if untreated, say Western specialists" "Museum of Glass needs more parking to come into state compliance" " New dog show is a bread apart".
Texas almost has it right. They’re just killing the wrong thing.
Slack
Dear Slack:
Heavy shit, man. I'm serious. I don't know what to say. Umm...the article was partly about how they're gonna start kicking people out of the nuthouse cause the state is making some pretty deep cuts in mental health care. So...they're gonna give quite a few crazies their walking papers along with two weeks supply of medicine...and down the road...somebody's gonna starve to death...and somebody else is going to shoot themselves...and somebody else is gonna freak out and manage to get himself/herself shot by the cops...and quite a few others will simply "disappear." And, worst of all, I guess, is that I'm watching this happen in front of my eyes and there's nothing I can do because in order for me to "prove" that these discharges are dangerous somebody apparently actually has to end up dead. You have to let the Titanic sink, it seems, before you can convince anybody that lifeboats are a good idea. For some reason, I'm particularly worried about this one guy I know out at the farm named Stewart--he thinks I'm a Catholic priest, by the way--and this big lady who wears her lipstick clown-style and carries around a teddy bear. They're the ones I think about at night.
Holding my daisy,
Rev. Trotter (Ret.)
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