|I'll have a Jameson on the rocks-better make it a double...|
Bridge-Burning-201, Advanced Studies
How Liberals and Conservatives can learn to get along: A Step-by-Step guide to the complete idiot (that would be me, for one; the rest of you have to take stock…)
The first point of order here is that neither libs nor cons are right or wrong: They simply are, kind of like Jerusalem crickets and butterflies, dependent upon which side of the septic tank you happen to be representing. I, by universal definition, must be a Jerusalem cricket, because everywhere I go, I make people nervous.
So in order to be able to coexist with the butterflies I encounter, I must find a way to rein in those pincers that seem to be the problem. I must accept that I am the newcomer here, despite having lived on the mountain for almost 35 years. In most books, that makes me an old-timer, but not when it comes to politics.
I bring in with me different notions of how things ought to be, especially the concept of political correctness. I have been around for a spell, and have seen our culture go from referring to various ethnic groups as spics, wops, kikes, zips, and micks, all nice single-syllable words, easy to spit out, even by the mouthful.
There are others, so many others, that it boggles the mind at how creative we were back then. On the other hand, we drove around in vehicles at 70MPH without seat-belts or airbags. Go figure.
Liberals tend to look upwards and outwards from the immediacy of their lots in life, more globally as it were. Conservatives tend to focus more on what is right around them, as their grandparents and multiple generations going back into the depths of time, have done.
Both are admirable sides of the septic tank of politics, from which to view life. When occasion calls for the intermingling of the two sides, unspoken truces go into effect, baseball is played, church is attended, the school field trip takes place and we all enjoy a good cup of our favorite hot beverage at Pour Girl’s, in the ‘Ville.
Until the election comes along.
Instead of being able to keep those truces in effect, as we do when we are face-to-face, we (I mean me, of course) tend to let that broader side of our socio/economic background take over, and that’s like trying to mix cannabis oil and beer: It’s never going to happen smoothly.
Better to drink your beer and eat a brownie with it, than to try and mix the two.
Though I personally do not support either of the major party candidates, I find myself drawn into debate because of my inability to understand that I am clearly out of my league. 20,000’s worth out of my league.
I am so politically naive, I never actually realized how much animosity I could incur, by simply asking a clarifying question of someone. It makes no difference what the question(s) was, only that I was incapable of recognizing how vast the chasm was/is between us.
I appealed to what I thought was human nature, and found out that human nature can be viewed by different people, in amazingly different ways. Again, specifics are unnecessary-only the recognition that they exist.
So, what to do?
Well. there is the weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth approach to the situation, or a daylong excursion to Boomer’s, to drown my sorrows in good Irish whiskey.
Oops, probably not Boomer’s, due to my controversial approach to the whole Colin Kaepernick/respect-for-flags conundrum. Judging from some of the posts coming out of the saloon, I would be as welcome as, well, a Jerusalem cricket.
One strategy is avoid all political exchanges period, recognizing clearly the futility of once again, being put through our paces by a master plan far more complex-and probably devious-than any of us can imagine. Nothing is too outrageous.
Another strategy is to find neutral ground, preferably of a humorous vein, and then go that route. Not only is the humor infectious, there is a certain lightness to the exchanges that lends more weight to them, as in, “We are rising above that septic tank and meeting somewhere else, kind of like we do in reality.”
The reality is Annie and I like to stop at Pour Girl’s on the way through to get lattes; it’s an incentive whose worth is immeasurable.
|When it comes to blowing up bridges, I am a demolition man...|
The question is, “Have I obliterated this bridge over the chasm, or can it be repaired?”
Ask me after the election, when I no longer have a swath of black bands running down my back