The election numbers I published yesterday remain valid. It is now broadly recognized that the Democrats have won control of the Senate, 51-49. Since Lieberman is technically an Independent, the actual numbers are 50-49-1. So he actually now emerges as a potential power broker between the parties. He was elected due to Republican support -- and despite the fact his Democratic colleagues in the Senate campaigned against him -- but says he will conference with the Democrats. If by some reason he changed his mind, however, and joined the GOP, Dick Cheney would take control the Senate. No one expects this, but it is worth mentioning as one of the central ironies emerging from this election. In the House, the final number will probably be Dems 232 and GOP 203.
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It has been observed that in this post-modern world it may be our fate to become isolated, lonely, disoriented, and disconnected. We're drowning in the early floods of the Information Age, surrounded by wild bursts of new data about virtually everything. It's understandable that, as the biological creatures we are, we often seem to be unable to evolve fast enough to keep up with the pace of technological changes.
Therefore, we seek comfort wherever we can find it.
For many, solace is found in religion. There is nothing quite like a set of cohesive beliefs that can be reduced to mantras repeated over and over -- Allah Akhbar, Praise be to the Lord, Ommm -- to quell our disquiet. I've never been blessed as much (in English) as when I visited Biloxi after Hurricane Katrina; but it also was routine for people to mention me to Allah when I worked in Afghanistan in my early 20s.
Outside of this opiate for the masses, many choose to self-medicate. On one of my other blogs, Sidewalk Images , I publish photos of the cast-off remnants of drugs, alcohol, and cigarettes on our streets all the time.
As for other sources of comfort, there's sex. I'll leave that alone for now.
For a small but loud group, there's politics. They are much on display this week.
For a large but quieter group, there's work. The workday routine treats many a case of "referred pain."
In journalism, when we talk about how to improve our media services, we often speak about "addicting" our audiences. So, we are upfront about that. What we hope to do, on behalf of our companies, is to persuade large groups of people to build us into their daily routine. One of the tools we have is the news cycle, which constantly churns out new headlines for us to exploit.
Another tool is the daily columnist. People turn to Maureen Dowd or William Safire (or their radio equivalents) out of habit. People tune into Howard Stern or Rush Limbaugh by habit.
There are good habits and bad habits. The role of an honorable journalist is to try and create for you some good daily information consumption habits.
Someone asked me whether I blogged repeatedly throughout election day and night for a reason. I said yes, my goal was to provide those who didn't want to watch the election on TV with an alternative source of information. In the Internet Age, one person has access to enough information in real time to do pretty much everything the old-fashioned television networks still try to do.
If were more talented at html and UI design, I could also provide many bells and whistles. But instead, I just told it straight; my only tool was a calculator. On the other hand, I spent that entire election alone (except for a brief period from 7:30-9:30 p.m.) when I put the kids to bed, so my ex-spouse could go to a celebration party for the victors.
So, I'm one of those disconnected, lonely, isolated discontents you hear about. Just another political junkie indulging his habits behind closed doors; then displaying the results in electronic text messages that can be accessed by anyone, anywhere, anytime.
There's some comfort in this, naturally. For that brief moment of simulated contact with the outside world -- that instant when I push "publish" and shoot these thoughts out there, I'm a bit less disoriented, and I feel ever so slightly less lonely.
Then, my own reality sets in again...
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