Circus fatigue

I'm not going anymore.

The barkers may make it sound so intriguing.  The people drawn to the big tent may incite the herd instinct within me.  The sights and sounds may lead me to believe I'll miss out on something delicious if I take a pass.  But, I must say I'm done.  The thrill is gone.  The game is over.  Don't want to be the sucker to P.T. Barnum's exhibition anymore.

Our circus culture feeds on revelation--the unveiling of secrets, the sensational drama thrust upon an "unsuspecting" world, the shocking news of the latest gossip.  "Step right up, see the most amazing thing you've ever seen . . . "

The script is so old, so tired, so predictable.  The television personality announces his gay and all the world is a twitter. "Who knew?"  The famous atheist declares she's converted to Christianity and everyone's buzzing.  "Who would have thought?"

But, I don't care.  I really don't.  Is that unChristian of me?  I don't know these people.  They're "coming out" has nothing to do with my little world.  So, I have no opinion about the latest, greatest, sensational news.  It doesn't matter to me.  I have nothing to say about whatever is going on under the big top.  Rather, I have enough to talk about, think about, care about within my little tent.

The teenage son of a former student of mine was seriously injured in a car wreck.  My father-in-law has a brain tumor.  A friend's house may have burned down in Colorado.  I have enough drama in my little life.

"Step right up, see the most amazing thing you've ever seen . . . ."  No thanks.  I've got a life of my own.