Get Kony...

As so many of us shame-ridden citizens of Bubblopolis (LA/NY/PDX/SF/etc) focus our (solar) flaring (full moon) frustrations on getting Kony, what I really wanna know is - who's gonna get the shameless narcissist Jason Russell?

At risk of sounding glib, I am so pushed away from the subject by this approach. The asserted good intentions of legacy-obsessed self-filming altruists grate nerves to their nubs and degrade the real issues at play here down to sunny Bonoism. Jason Russell you've left me cold, disinterested, and angry (at you) in the face of something that clearly deserves attention. And I kick myself for falling into this dumb trap of trifling disgust. Here, embarrassed, nauseated, at my coldest, I will confess to a passing interest in the unchecked projections of outraged Californians marketizing their dawning discomfort with other worlds (via cute bracelets, child exploitation, superior voices, Shepard Fairey fingerpaints, and the power of the self-promoting docu-tumor). It makes one wonder what blunt awareness can do. I'm now painfully aware that ego-activism compounds Kony problems in fascinating ways. It's a great model of a 21st Century transcontinental socio-cinematic puzzle that defines increasingly odd encounters in the extremes of global culture. We're one but we're not the same.

Yes, someone should get Kony. Do I have to even say that? He's apparently a murdering opportunist lost in a situation no one fully understands. And yes, maybe this campaign will help save some children from ruin. That would be very good. I don't want to be a hater here, but tonight my hackles are as flared as our sun's corona. I don't seem to be the only one wresting with this either. OK, I'll stop. I know my expression is as misguided and upsetting as the one I'm attacking. Damn you civilization with all your blind spots and quagmires. Damn you America for the numbing spritz of your popping bubbledom.