I tried for a long time to keep politics out of this blog. Okay, for a little while–but it seemed like forever. I had this idealistic dream that I could keep my mouth shut and inoffensively skip through the ether, getting along with everyone in a post Rodney King dream world of sunshine, lollipops, and glistening dew on early morning spiderwebs.
That went down the crapper quickly enough, because the world is full of rednecks who think America reached its pinnacle in the moments following confederate succession, who deny racism, who think that women’s bodies autonomously reject pregnancy in the event of rape, and Presidents–a fucking President, man–who brags about his history of sexual assault with a wink and a grin that says, well, you know, those chicks were asking for it.
I never liked being called a liberal. I haven’t much stomach for the sensitivity that has become a source of both internal pride and external derision for the moral left. Our unofficial family slogan here in chez junk is “suck it up, Lizzie.” There’s a story behind that–no one here is named Lizzie–but it has been a pretty effective way to raise children. Knocked down? You get back up, wipe your tears on your sleeve, and get on with it. I appreciate the importance that the left has placed on identity, on saying the right words at the right time, on being first and foremost respectful–but it is wearying, too, and it has become clear that in focusing so much energy on not being offensive (which is different from simply being respectful) we have concentrated too much on matters of individuality and too little on those that effect the community at large.
In a manner of speaking, those are peacetime concerns. We are presently at war against a despot who would wipe his fat, pimply ass with the constitution while scheduling prime time melodramas to air him bloviating from that same wrinkled, cellulite-curdled butt. Also against us are the enablers–rational and possibly even generally good men and women who know better–who goddamn know we can be so much better–yet who sit quietly by out of loyalty to party and love of power, hitching their carts to a twitter-mad, id-obsessed madman suffering from classical Textbook narcissistic personality disorder.
I’ve been a Democrat largely because the Pennsylvania electoral system is set up so that independent and third-party voters can’t vote in primaries, which means exclusion from local elections such as town council, school board of directors, and row offices. I’ve stayed a Democrat because however bad it gets, Republicans also seem to be worse. (You think Anthony “Look At My” Weiner isn’t thrilled about Trump’s romp through out ugly political landscape?) Democrats also seem to have better taste in beer.
Some of this is by default. For example: I align with pro-choice and environmentalist positions because, let’s be honest, I love trees, mountains, and untrammeled desert while I don’t particularly care for people and feel very strongly that there should be less of them–and it’s an either/or thing with birth control: teach kids about effective birth control and make it readily available or stick with all this ridiculous abstinence rhetoric and keep the abortion rates where they are.
I may do a position paper sometime in the future, when I’m feeling feisty, but I’m here now to declare–unless you missed it–that for now and for the immediate future, Old Road Apples will be a Voice of The Resistance; not THE voice of the resistance by any stretch of the imagination, but one voice among many, however ragged, second-hand, exhausted, or shrill. It will remain so until the current threat is quashed, until the Constitution is again revered, and until we have leaders who put justice, reason, sanity, and morality ahead of party allegiances and private aspirations.
If you’re a conservative and thrilled with the way things are going, I urge you to stick around, engage me, and make an effort to explain to me why? Because I clearly don’t understand. If you agree with me, in whole or in part, I need to hear from you as well. It is good to know we’re not alone, as we teeter on the brink of destruction. Let’s get this fixed so I can get back to being my old self–it’s far more rewarding to mock liberalism than it is to carry its torch, but as the old saying goes, the enemy of my enemy….