still too diffuse

A number of people seem to be coming around at last to the notion of building a resistance, but it's too diffuse and you don't have time to pay attention. Your teenager is on the brink of pissing his life away after you have worked yourself to the point of a nervous breakdown to see that he gets the best possible start. Your father's estate will be usurped by the venal relatives if you don't ignore the greatest good with your radio show in order to sit on his property until they can't threaten your inheritance anymore. You're finally getting to travel in your retirement. You're practically eighty and you feel you shouldn't have to think about any more awful things than your multifarious ailments and too near death. You've got short people coming out your ears, and they have to get to school, and take their naps, and eat. Your boss will boot your ass right out of a job and out on the street 24/7 if you dare take off for a demonstration. You think if you have to watch one more signed petition drop into the abyss, hear one more gum-chewing receptionist fail to help you get your concerns addressed that you might turn into an axe murderer, so you are too obsessed with deadheading every dandelion within a ten-mile radius. You don't want to be shunned as an alarmist by any of these. You are so busy nursing your brilliant reputation as a whistle-blower, so busy polishing the righteousness of your acts, optimizing the redemptive qualities therein, that you subconsciously resist being effective. You are, pathologically, charged with conviction that the only way to stop all this warring and greed and attendant hatefulness is to stubbornly pursue happiness by means of the exaltation of both politically correct bearing and unremitting chic. You have, after all, needed this too badly your whole life to set it aside, even if half the apocalyptic stuff you hear about actually is true. Well. Over half of it is true, and it is because what you want for yourself is more important to you than stopping it.