Pewboy slouched and stared at his blank computer screen. He was attempting the dangerous practice of psychological self-diagnosis when his thoughts were interrupted by his constant companion and friend, Altarego.
Altarego: You know, they have come up with incredible speech recognition software that will type the words on your computer screen as you speak them. But if they have come up with thought recognition software, I haven’t heard about it.
Jim White
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Pewboy: (blinking for the first time in several minutes and straightening himself) Now, that would be scary. Who would want everything he or she thinks to appear on a screen for everyone to see? I’m not sure the world is ready for that. If it could read my thoughts why couldn’t it read other people’s thoughts as well? And they could read mine, too. It might simplify communication, but it would complicate things, too. Wars would be fought over thoughts of leaders. New laws would be enacted. And dating. How many people would ever get a second date if the other person knew everything you thought on the first one? Bad idea!
Altarego: Pehaps. But it would certainly help me since you don’t seem to be in a mood to talk about your feelings. What’s going on?
Pewboy: That’s just it. I wish I knew. I’m depressed and I don’t know why. I’ve been trying to figure it out all morning. Maybe I’m just lazy. I can’t seem to get excited about getting back in the saddle again after the holidays.
Altarego: Well, I’ve noticed in you a propensity to avoid work on occasion, but if you are lazy it is a new development. Do you have any other theories?
Pewboy: Well, I guess it could have to do with the long hours of darkness at this time of year. There’s a name for it. What’s it called?
Altarego: You mean Seasonal Affective Disorder. They call it SAD for short. You think you have that?
Pewboy: Oh, I don’t know, it may just be that the Super Bowl is looming and beyond that weekends without football.
Altarego: Oh, please. You can’t possibly be that shallow, can you?
Pewboy: Uh, probably so. But you asked for theories, so I’m trying to consider the options.
Altarego: OK. Let me try to help. Does this happen about this time every year?
Pewboy: No, it doesn’t seem to.
Altarego: Then we can rule out the SAD and football theories since they occur annually.
Pewboy: (brightening for the first time) Hey, that’s right. I hadn’t thought of that. What other questions do you have?
Altarego: You said it doesn’t happen every year. Does it come randomly or in cycles? And when it does happen, is your depression constant or does it come and go? If so, are there events that trigger it?
Pewboy: Boy, you’re full of questions, aren’t you? Let’s see, the best I can figure, it seems to happen on leap years but it is starting earlier every time. As for triggers? I would have to say newscasts. Specifically FOX and CNN.
Altarego: Have you considered that leap years are also election years?
Pewboy: Oh, my goodness! I do believe you have put your finger on my problem. I have DEMS! Depressed by Elections’ Mud Slinging!
Altarego: Or maybe REPUBS, Repulsed by Elections’ Petty and Urbane Bull Shooting. Of course, you could have a touch of both. But if that’s it, you’re in for a rough year, I’m afraid. I can’t see the symptoms easing until mid November.
Pewboy: I don’t know if I can take it until then. Is there anything I can do?
Altarego: (tapping the side of his right temple as he thinks) Well, here’s what I would recommend. Ignore everything said by or about a candidate in a commercial. They are trying to convince you in 30-second sound bites that every other candidate, including the president, is hanging over hell on a rotten limb and deserves to have it snap suddenly. These reprobates, they would have us believe, are morally bankrupt, intellectually inept, professionally incompetent and financially corrupt.
Pewboy: I think I see where you’re going with this. After months of hearing that the whole country and maybe even the world will go straight to heck in a handbasket if one or the other of them is president, we finally become convinced that they are all awful. Then we elect one to be the leader of the free world! No wonder I’m already feeling depressed! Besides ignoring commercials, is there anything else I can do?
Altarego: As a matter of fact, yes. Alert your extremist friends that you do not wish to be included in their systematic digital gossip-mongering by email. With these folks online, truth becomes an endangered species.
Pewboy: That shouldn’t be hard. I don’t have that many friends who can write.
Altarego: Doesn’t matter. If they know how to hit “forward,” they’re dangerous. But in addition to all that, let me prescribe new knowledge as a mental purgative. (Pewboy’s wrinkled nose and furrowed brow signaled he needed to explain.) You need to let the candidates speak to you in their own words. Read the things they write. Not only that, you need to read about the things they talk about so you will be able to form an opinion.
Pewboy: That sounds pretty involved. I was hoping for a pill I could swallow.
Altarego: The problem is, if you don’t prepare yourself to cast an informed vote, you will be swallowing a lot more than a pill. Think about it. Our entire system of government depends on voters making informed decisions. They need to make sure they get good, objective information before they cast a ballot.
Pewboy: (pausing) Now I’m really depressed. I was hoping I was just lazy.
Altarego: Well, cheer up, friend. That may yet prove to be the case.