You have to peel back the onion carefully on this mess we are in. I was hoping to get some insight into it last night, and got only a glimmer.

There are great currents running in the public life, on broadcast and simmering on the web.

One of my professional groups in cyberland is melting down in civility over the perceived slight of pianist Lang Lang’s curious performance of a lovely song at the White House. The professional credentials of an apologist for the choice of song- “Hey, listened to the Star Spangled Banner lately?” were questioned by those who saw a dark plot in the lyrics- unsung- which called our soldiers “jackals.”

I don’t know what it means. I heard Lang Lang on the radio protesting that it was just an old song that he loved from his childhood. He seemed quite irate about it, while I think maybe a softer tone might have played better.

I think it was a subtle pay-back from the Chinese side, and they made a significant miscalculation by those who thought playing to the gallery back home would go un-noticed on a world that runs on the web.

I had made a concerted effort to get to the State of the Onion and gauge how our leaders intend to peel it this time. I looked out at the snow that began to fall as the President pressed the flesh on his way down to the Speaker’s Rostrum. Snow began to fall outside.

I understand Mr. Obama talked about “investment” in the future, but I have to rely on those who spin the message this morning since I fell asleep I the warm embrace of the brown chair with a belly full of Ludmilla’s stew and warm bread slathered with creamery butter.

Carbs are my enemy, but that was an investment I could believe it. Sometimes the comfort is worth it.

From what I can tell in the after action reporting, I am generally in favor of everything the President said. I also agree with the new insurgents in the House that deep cuts in spending are necessary but also believe can’t be done now without crippling the economic recovery.

Crap.

I see the snow has turned to gray rain. Work beckons and damn the bad luck I have a nine o’clock at the Pentagon. As I don a raincoat and select a hat and stout boots, I am filled with a dreamy uncertainty.

The Hubrismobile is clean, and the second I pull it out of the garage it will become coated in salt spray and road dirt. If I walk to the Metro, I save the cost of a carwash and a little petroleum based energy.

Is it warming or cooling, Ice Age coming or a sweat bath?

Is it a truculent China, or a simple misunderstanding?
Why do those heartless Marines make PFC Bradley Manning sleep in his underwear in the Brig at Quantico? Oh, wait, I sleep the same way.

The hell with it. If we can all pull together perhaps there may be a slow and gradual way out of this predicament. Forward we go.

There appears to be no alternative but to peel the onion back, layer by layer, and get cooking.

Copyright 2011 Vic Socotra
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