As if bad pizza weren't enough of a reason...

I now have added incentive to keeping avoiding the Papa John's mere blocks from my house: today they forced someone to wear a giant, anthropomorphic, foam pizza suit and wave miserably to passing motorists as the temperature topped out at 98.

Peering through the shimmering waves of heat rising off 14th street, I witnessed this poor soul doubled over and awkwardly flapping the crust/hem of the costume in a weak attempt to promote air circulation. When the Pizza Thing saw me coming, it straightened and performed a little jumping dance that could be interpreted as either a playful jig or a manic prelude to utter despair.

This town has about 20,000 residents, and as a relative newcomer, I am already thoroughly familiar with its short roster of restaurants, so there's no way a manager could justify breaking out the pizza suit for advertising purposes. Besides, I can imagine nothing more off-putting than the thought of how a flacid, faded pizza suit with toppings made of peeling felt must smell from the inside. I am convinced that this was some sort of hate crime, possibly ageism, homophobia, or immigrant abuse.

Add to this the fact that I was listening to sound bites from the President's insanely optimistic Rose Garden press conference after his peek-a-boo tour of Iraq, and you can see where this dark assessment of power motives is coming from.

Which brings up an interesting and decidedly thorny issue: I have wanted to comment more on politics on this blog, but two things have kept me from doing it. First, it's being done far more eloquently and thoroughly on other sites by people who have the time and the resources and the uncrushable spirit to look closely at how our government operates every day. To me, this is a bit like working in a sausage factory-- you see all the unsavory things that go into the final product, and then you risk losing your appreciation for something you used to like. In my case, I'm already unable to stomach many of the outcomes and decisions made by this administration, and I'm afraid that if I start writing about what seems to be going on behind these factory doors, my entire worldview will begin to smell like the inside of a pizza suit-- in other words, I'll begin to realize how truly powerless I am.

The second, and perhaps more obvious reason I don't write about politics more often is because of my husband's job. I support him wholeheartedly and believe at my core that he (and we by extension) is in the right place and doing the right thing, but this is a hard message to communicate when I'm busy coming up with hyphenated F-word names for the president. This is not to say that we don't talk about politics, just that it's something that must be done mindfully, and with a clearer assessment of purpose than just blowing off steam.

It's a delicate balance, but one for which I'm grateful, since it's made me take a harder look at the purpose of disagreement and frustration, and indeed of the true nature of democracy. Paying attention, staying abreast of the situation, is a duty, but without positive action, complaints are just so much hot air in an already uncomfortable pizza suit.