…by this Rob Ford insanity. I shared in a meeting recently that for the first time in my life I know what it’s like to live with an alcoholic parent. Not that I consider Rob Ford a paternal figure but he is (was) kind of in charge of the place where I live and his unpredictability was (is) affecting everyone who lives here including me. Not like a father but he’s like a drunken uncle, constantly embarrassing himself in front of everyone: falling into Christmas trees, shitting his pants, pinching the maid’s bum. I have many opinions on Rob Ford and his potential addiction and my opinions do tend to change — I’m not committing fully to any specific opinion yet — for example, I now have some compassion for him (as one would for an uncle who’s in denial). This is since his admission of crack use and his subsequent denial that he’s an addict — the compassion comes from me being able to relate to this total, incredible denial, especially because I know that denial — not alcohol — is what makes a lot of people die.
At the same time, I try not to confuse Ford’s possible addiction with his character although it’s hard and I have seen first-hand how people tend to get confused about that. The world making fun of our drunken uncle was also amusing for the first little while but lately it just feels embarrassing and guilt-inducing as if we were a bunch of enablers who have a hard time cutting him off (well, we have, sort of now as of yesterday). We ridicule him on social media (I certainly have), we gleefully watch his baroque antics and I think, as a city, we ourselves have become addicted to the Roboshitshow . I certainly have, checking Twitter first thing in the morning for the past few weeks, expecting more craziness. And he never disappoints. And I’m so sick of it. And I can’t stop watching.
I need Al-Anon. Or Fo-Anon?