George and Amal Clooney are donating $500K to a bunch of kids who are too young to drink but old enough to get shot at. Oprah heard about the gesture and matched it. Truthfully, these aren’t celebrities, these are stars. As for the kids, these are kids.
No really.
They’re kids.
Think about it.
The March For Our Lives will take place in Washington DC on March 24th. The kids from Parkland are determined to make their school shooting the last of its kind. It’s tempting to call this naive. But I get the feeling saying something like that reflects poorly on me, not them.
Even if they don’t succeed right away, they’re pointing things in the right direction.
Jennifer Lawrence announced she’s taking a year off acting to help fix our Democracy. She’s not a celebrity, she’s a star. To make it so young, on so many levels. God Bless JLaw! She’s taking a year off to try. I know she’ll be bashed. I know she’ll be ridiculed. But so what? It’s the surest sign she’s getting under the skin of people who have given up.
By the way, it’s perfectly okay to give up.
If you wanna golf, so be it. If you wanna shop, so be it. If you wanna get drunk with a friend and step up a profile on Match, so be it.
While the adults play games, the kids are stepping up to run things.
You know why? They have no agenda tied to money. They simply want to live. Imagine seeing things so clearly. Then when you’re done thinking about that, imagine being shot at. Then when you’re done thinking about that, imagine having the people who are supposed to be grown ups vote on porn instead of assault weapons.
That actually happened today in the Florida Legislature. But what do you expect from the Peninsula Of Insanity where George Zimmerman calls home, where Stand Your Ground is the law of the land, where Stoneman Douglas Shooting Range was mislabeled as a high school.
Oh, and then there’s Alabama where they want to arm teachers. If you think I’m actually going to debate Alabama, I have 2 words: Roy Moore.
Moving right along…
When the celebrities aren’t celebrities, when the grown ups aren’t grown ups, when the kids aren’t kids, when the only thing all of us who survived the last mass shooting can be sure of is that we’re sitting ducks, you know for sure we’re in the middle of something too hard to define. I don’t know what any of it means but I do know I’ll be in Washington joining the March For Our Lives. I’m as lost as those kids. But I’m 50. And I don’t have Clooney Money. Or Oprah Money. But I do have a genuine desire to be part of the uncomfortableness. The woman I love is a school teacher. Her 5 year old nephew is my bestie. My college roommate has a daughter with friends who were shot in the knee and the leg at Parkland. It begs the question…
How close to home does it need to get before you stop pretending to be a grown up and start acting like one?