Sometimes everything in Washington feels polarized. One day it's 15 degress, the next it's 75.
One night we're in a glitzy hotel Dr. Barry Corey and the author of "Unchristian," the next we're serving soup at Food and Friends. And, of course, it would seem that the greatest polarization is that of how people view the Obama administration versus how they feel about Bush's.
A reporter down the hall in my newsroom was having a rather loud phone conversation on Tuesday night.
"It's all Bush's fault and that's the case" he said, in his usual high-pitched Irish accent. "What? there are still people in your newsroom that are positive? No one, and I mean no one, here likes him anymore."
It was his accent that made me start out laughing, but I began to think a little more seriously as the conversation continued, and I realized that he was illustrating for me what I have been learning in class about the market dictating journalism.
"Hits seem to go up when I'm bashing Bush, but of course he's not there to bash anymore," he said.
As I thought about how much commonality most people seem to find in Bush-bashing, I thought about a conversation I listened to on Saturday as I walked with a group to the archives.
Someone mentioned how hard it would be to find a t-shirt for Bush in this town.
He kept going, "could you even find a bush fan in this town?"
Two people piped up: "we are."
"I really liked him," someone else said.
"You're idiots," my roommate sneered.
The same people with such polarized views about our presidents were soon ooh-ing and aaah-ing over the same Magna Carta, Declaration of Independence and Constitution that have brought us all to where we are, and give us the freedom to polarize ourselves if we should wish to do so.
I caught polarization in myself this week. With Obama out of town, I walked around with a bit of a rain cloud over my head. I hated feeling like there was no chance of spotting him anywhere during my day.
I don't remember even thinking about Bush when I visited D.C. five years ago.
Even our weekly dinners at school, where we gather and eat in the same room, feel polarized at times. This week, we were on pins and needles waiting to hear about the stimulus package.
"Hello Great Depression number two" said one friend, when we talked about what would happen if it did not pass.
"I don't want it to" said his roommate, sitting beside him.
They left together to watch a movie, and I thought about Saturday again.
That's the beauty of living in America. Here, in the Capitol city, we can be as separate as we wish to, and yet, somehow, we all end up coming together.
One night we're in a glitzy hotel Dr. Barry Corey and the author of "Unchristian," the next we're serving soup at Food and Friends. And, of course, it would seem that the greatest polarization is that of how people view the Obama administration versus how they feel about Bush's.
A reporter down the hall in my newsroom was having a rather loud phone conversation on Tuesday night.
"It's all Bush's fault and that's the case" he said, in his usual high-pitched Irish accent. "What? there are still people in your newsroom that are positive? No one, and I mean no one, here likes him anymore."
It was his accent that made me start out laughing, but I began to think a little more seriously as the conversation continued, and I realized that he was illustrating for me what I have been learning in class about the market dictating journalism.
"Hits seem to go up when I'm bashing Bush, but of course he's not there to bash anymore," he said.
As I thought about how much commonality most people seem to find in Bush-bashing, I thought about a conversation I listened to on Saturday as I walked with a group to the archives.
Someone mentioned how hard it would be to find a t-shirt for Bush in this town.
He kept going, "could you even find a bush fan in this town?"
Two people piped up: "we are."
"I really liked him," someone else said.
"You're idiots," my roommate sneered.
The same people with such polarized views about our presidents were soon ooh-ing and aaah-ing over the same Magna Carta, Declaration of Independence and Constitution that have brought us all to where we are, and give us the freedom to polarize ourselves if we should wish to do so.
I caught polarization in myself this week. With Obama out of town, I walked around with a bit of a rain cloud over my head. I hated feeling like there was no chance of spotting him anywhere during my day.
I don't remember even thinking about Bush when I visited D.C. five years ago.
Even our weekly dinners at school, where we gather and eat in the same room, feel polarized at times. This week, we were on pins and needles waiting to hear about the stimulus package.
"Hello Great Depression number two" said one friend, when we talked about what would happen if it did not pass.
"I don't want it to" said his roommate, sitting beside him.
They left together to watch a movie, and I thought about Saturday again.
That's the beauty of living in America. Here, in the Capitol city, we can be as separate as we wish to, and yet, somehow, we all end up coming together.
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