cliche alert

Election time. RNC last night, next week DNC.

I want to post more political things, but I am sick and tired of that sinking feeling I get when I post something on Facebook and log off, knowing that someone is going to engage me in a heated discussion on a controversial topic when I log back on. It makes me wish I never even posted anything in the first place.

Don't get me wrong: I still have enough piss and vinegar in me for any conversation or debate you can name. I'm just sick and tired of doing it. Because venting my spleen is not a sign of happiness. It's a sign of angry-ness, and although I will probably always be a little angry and not 100% happy, I do have control over it.

Right? Right.


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Living in the Midwest is like going back in time ten or fifteen years: pot is not legally available at a dispensary down the corner (in fact, even liquor stores are closed on Sunday); food prices (and wages) are ridiculously low, as is the cost of living; and there are at least twelve churches within five miles of my home in every direction.

The liberals and lefties out here are a lot more diligent and less tolerant of conservative thought. That's because in Los Angeles most political types are wannabes and poseurs, whereas out here you have to back up your words if you really mean them. In California there are conservative pockets, yes, but it's mostly a liberal paradise; a person can rant all day long about taboo subjects and never have to face the music or deal with the consequences of their words. This is not exactly the Bible Belt (Indiana is located right above it) but it was once a stronghold of the KKK in the years after WWI. Conservatism and Republicanism run rampant here. If you want to have that magical conversation about religion or politics in the bar, make sure you have your peeps with you.

All of my peeps are back home, so I pretty much keep my mouth shut. Fortunately, Indiana has a lot of liberals, so I do get the chance to exchange ideas with people on the same page. And yet it's not the same, plus I'm no spring chicken-- I have a wife and a kid to think about, so (to use yet one more cliche than I already have) I try not to write checks with my mouth that my body can't cash.

In other words, I'm not trying to get tied to a monster truck and dragged around town just because I like Obama. Call me a coward if you want, but these days I only engage in battles if it looks like it's gonna be a fair fight.


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Of course, I like taking the piss out of both sides of the spectrum, so I pick fights with liberals too. But what I'm finding out here in Indianapolis is that, while there is room for a middle ground, it's more black-and-white than being back home. Whereas back in L.A. I can talk shit about Democrats who are just as bad as Republicans, out here it is more of a mystification. People don't always get the fact that I am firmly to the left on everything. What I always felt was a willingness to self-criticize is perceived out here, I feel, to be some sort of political/ethical self-hatred.

I always felt that the Left's greatest attribute was their ability to examine themselves less subjectively than the Right, but lately that's all been changing. The GOP has had to reflect upon themselves a lot, if only because they are struggling to find a common ground upon which to mount their attacks at the incumbent. But the Dems have become more subjective and less open to (Cliche Alert) taking the plank out of their own eye before taking others to task over that tiny mote. Is this the result of taking back the White House after 8 years of George W. Bush?

I don't know. I mean, I DO know, but I'm not going to get into that anymore. Sick and tired, remember? Such a drain to log onto Facebook and see all these comments waiting for me. Maybe that's why I am spending less time on FB and trying to make more time for the blog: no one is forced to read this, but if I post something in my News Feed or (worse) write a Note and forward it to people, I am not only being invasive but I'm kind of asking for it.


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I'm glad that at least I work with a lot of people who are politically on the Left, or at least have enough of a sense of humor to laugh about their conservative beliefs (if they have any at all). Like everyone else who works, I spend a lot of time with my co-workers so it's important to like them as people. I don't think I could hack it in this city if I had to work at Chick-Fil-A, for example. But who's to say that the people who have to work at a place like Chick-Fil-A aren't nice? Some of them might even be Democrats. Or gay. Or gay Democrats. This economy sucks, people have to get jobs where they can find them.

Is it betraying a principle if a gay person works at Chick-Fil-A? Most would argue that it is. But if that gay person has a domestic partner and an adopted child and they need cash, is it wrong then? Or is it a necessary evil? We've all had to work for an evil corporation at one point or another-- do we ever get absolved of that, even if we go onto more humane employers? Will working at a used bookstore wash my hands of the stink left over from my time at Clear Channel?

Is it wrong for me to eat a Chick-Fil-A sandwich even though I support gay marriage? Was it wrong of me to criticize the gay movement's mishandling of the "No on Prop. 8" campaign in California in 2008? Is there a satisfactory answer to any of these questions, one that will sate everybody's lust for judgment?

I guess the answer to all of these is: depends on where you live. There's a Chick-Fil-A in Santa Clarita, just north of Los Angeles. It's been there for a little over a year. I don't know if there was a huge show of support out there on August 1st. I'm sure that even if there was, it paled in comparison to out here, where there are more Chick-Fil-A's than I can stomach (pardon the pun).

Personally, I think their food is a little bland, but my son loves their playground area. But then again, what does he care? His best friends are the neighbor kids who are being raised by a lesbian couple. Given a choice between hanging out with his best buddies or a chicken sandwich, I know what my son would choose: he'd choose his friends, because that would make him the happiest... and that's what it's all about, in the long run.

Right? Right.


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