SO I PULLED into my parking space in Montclair and noticed that the Jeep V-8 had its brake lights on, glowing up at the American flag taped to its side. "Going out or going in," I thought.

I had already noticed the correlation between SUVs and flags. I have no idea what it means. I am not a flag waver, because I dislike the idea that the people waving flags are more patriotic than the people who aren't. I distrust showy patriotism as much as I distrust showy religiosity.

I walked by the car. I got hit by the exhaust -- the engine was on -- and then I saw the woman inside talking on a cell phone. I went and did my errand, came back 15 minutes later. The Jeep was still there, the woman was still on the cell phone, the engine was still running.

It's like: HELLO! Do you get that one of the root causes of this entire war thing is our insane and pointless dependence on foreign oil? Do you get that driving an SUV is not exactly a patriotic act right now, and that sitting in the car with the engine running is even worse because you're not going anywhere?

Darn nice flag, though.

Our wealth and prosperity have made us a silly people. Silliness is fine in moderation, but we don't seem to know when to stop. And somehow the Recent Unpleasantness has made our various dopey national obsessions seem just a little dopier.

People say, "Everything has changed." People say, "We must go on with our lives or the terrorists will have won." How can both of those things be true? I think the stakes are higher and the sacrifices will be greater, and shopping and flags may not actually be part of the solution.

IDO THINK there's a new balance to be struck; almost everybody thinks that. Many people are trying to strike it by eliminating dissent -- I have been called a traitor so many times I don't even notice anymore. The concept of "loyal opposition" seems to have disappeared; I am waiting for the modern incarnation of Joseph McCarthy to make his appearance in Congress.

The president has taken advantage of this feeling to push for measures he has long wanted, asserting that the huge corporate tax cuts are necessary to fight terrorism. That seems to be cynically using a war for political ends, but it's the people who mention that the emperor has a distinct lack of raiments who get called "cynics," a word that apparently now means "someone who doubts the authorities."

But I don't feel cynical; I feel generous. I think we all need to be kind to one another. I think we should cut some slack for the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, which failed to be perfect in dealing with an unexpected crisis. We have watched public health go to hell for so long in this country. Besides: We're all in this together. Does your household have an anthrax readiness plan? There's enough weirdness going around without laying into sincere and underpaid bureaucrats.

BUT I UNDERSTAND, I do. I want comfort and unity myself. I want us all to be united in grand struggle. I want my old life back; hell, I want my old silliness back. I am in the middle of an interesting parlor game: You have a newspaper column, and Sept. 11 comes along. What do you do? No time to ponder and do preliminary sketches; your first deadline is in two hours.

This makes me notice more. The cracks in the facade, the little moments of cognitive dissonance become clearer. Here's what I think is true: We do not know what to do. We should perhaps wait until clarity strikes. The brave new world will tell us what it wants from us all too soon.
Notes on the new world, and what it feels like just wandering around.

Jon Carroll
jcarroll@sfchronicle.com.