As shocking as it may seem, yours truly has friends and relatives. You probably thought I was raised by wolves? I was recently fortunate enough to spend time with kith and kin. Despite being cuddly as a porcupine and a bit of a loner; I love them.
We all benefit when ties of friendship (or blood) are strong and I hope to foster them. Sadly, the last few years the media has hammered the idea of family (love?) over politics. Thanksgiving and Christmas invariably lead to abhorrent bullshit media articles:
- From CNN*: “Breaking News, How To Withstand Insufferable Nitwits At Thanksgiving Dinner.”
- From Slate*: “Everyone Else Is Stupid. Make Sure To Explain This To Them.”
- From Hot Air*: “Your New Year’s Resolution To Tell Everyone About Benghazi.”
- From FOX News*: “Ten Ways to Verbally Pile Drive Your Elitist Douchebag Cousin Who Bought A Prius With The Student Loan Money He’ll Never Repay.”
- From People Magazine*: “Why It’s Your Duty To Discuss Bruce Jenner’s Genitalia On Christmas Eve.”
- From The New York Times*: “Talking Points To Fling At The Retrograde Bitter Clingers Who Live In The Wasteland Between Manhattan and LA.”
It seemed to peak with this simpering eunuch:
Dear God! Kill it before it reproduces.
I set out to spend my holidays as politics free as humanly possible. Should Pyjama Boy go on the offensive I’d change the subject to index funds, double my whiskey intake, and smile. I can do that on Jesus’ birthday of all days! I’d do it for the good of humanity. I’d be strong. I meant well.
It almost worked but I made a miscalculation. I failed to understand that I’m Pyjama Boy’s diametrically opposed reflection. Like him, I speak volumes simply by existing. Damn!
Look at Pyjama Boy up there. Don’t you just want to beat him with a frying pan? Even without the text you’d still smell blood in the water. For one side of the political spectrum he’s a human version of a red flag in front of a bull. Can you imagine a conversation with that flake about a neutral, non-political, interest? You could propose a discussion of… anything and it would be boring to him. Imagine trying and rejecting topics alphabetically; apples, aardvarks, the Apollo program, beer, bacon, boobs, cars, Carthaginian civilization, cats, dogs, dingos, Dio, elves, Eggos, farts, frogs, fornication… need I go through the alphabet? By the time I’d gotten to Led Zepplin, Ziplock bags, and zero point energy I think we’d all agree the man-boy in the picture would struggle to talk about non-politics.
Luckily I’m not him. But I’m the polar opposite of Pyjama Boy and that brings its own baggage.
I’m into liberty. I radiate it. I think about it. I breathe it. I see it. I feel it. I care about it. Liberty has seeped into my pores and it shows. Just as the twit up there simply enrages us; I might do the same to him. Despite my best intentions I’m a walking beacon of personal liberty… and I can’t lower the wattage.
I tried, I really did. But I’m a human steamroller of “don’t tread on me”. It surfaced in whatever I did.
When I helpfully took out the trash I discovered that clear plastic bags were required by regulation and just about hyperventilated. Some folks must use clear garbage bags to verify their compliance with recycling or something similar (I wasn’t clear on the details). They think it’s normal. I think anyone who examines my trash is fixin’ to get it shoved up their ass. Yet who am I to question their world view? I tried to ignore it and was only mildly successful.
There was a swear jar in a tavern. WTF! I pre-paid a buck and opined that if there’s a time and place to swear it’s at the bar. Seriously, folks you gotta’ help me with this. What kind of Stalinist shithead wants us to talk like children at a motherfucking bar?
Whoops. Not very mellow of me was it? Was my thinking akin to Pyjama Boy who’d demand a fruit smoothie of the same tavern?
I lurched from one confusing or non (anti?) freedom moment to the next. My bacon raising, gun toting, wood splitting, bearded, backwoods, redneck internals couldn’t self calibrate.
We went shopping. I bought ammo and lit the “gun control” fuse. Silly me. Who doesn’t think ammo is a great stocking stuffer? People who don’t like guns; duh! Lesson learned.
My computer runs Linux. Why? I have nothing to hide so why not let it all hang out on Facebook? After all the NSA people are surely nice people who are keeping us safe. Alas my laptop is encrypted and has a skull placard on top. It radiates menace to the trusting.
I was not in my natural habitat and wasn’t good at blending in. So I apologize to the universe… and kith and kin. I tried to be neutral but I’m as subtle as a hurricane. They looked across the dinner table and saw this:
I am smiling.
Perhaps next time I’ll be more mellow. Possibly sedated. At least sufficiently so folks on the opposite side of the political spectrum don’t look like they’re about to burst into flames. I’m trying. I swear I am.
A.C.
* Like many references on the internet, these are made up.