Civil Discourse

What a shame that it has become impossible to have a civil conversation on anything political. I would love to be able to talk issues with co-workers, friends and colleagues, but the level of invective has risen to such a pitch that it has become dangerous. We wait anxiously for results of today's elections, and I have yet to reveal to anyone but my wife how I would vote. Is that not pathetic? Those who know me know. Those who know only the demographic of me assume they know. But we never talk. Why? Because we now greet opinions different from our own with such contempt, such hate and hyperbole, that it has become too painful to reveal anything. My fellow Americans would rather assume I am just like them in all ways, and would offer only the vilest snorting venomous response to any alternative view. So it is easier to let them cruise by on cruise control, secure in their ignorance and bigotry, and not rile the viper.
I blame Newt Gingrich and the Reagan Revolution primarily for this. It was possible 25 years ago to be the loyal opposition, to be a happy warrior for whichever side you favored, and not get your tires slashed. But not since the go-go 80's. Unhappy with being the minority party with minority views, the Pubs sought to leverage their position with polarizing personal attacks on their fat, complacent colleagues on the other side of the aisle. And they succeeded in spades. Never mind that the notion of "family values" was being trumpeted by a guy who married his school teacher as soon as he got old enough not to cause her criminal sanctions, and then offered her a divorce paper to sign when she was literally recovering from cancer surgery, so that he could marry a younger woman. Hey, at least he is heterosexual. Never mind that the environment was being sold to the highest (inside) bidder in vast chunks, so long as the economy was booming along. Never mind that civil liberties were not only lost, but derided as the wishful notions of criminals, pinkos, Jews, faggots and negroes, and of no interest to anyone real. Never mind that we trampled on the democratic hopes of people all over the world, if those interests did not coincide with those of MacDonald's and Coca-Cola. Oh, well, democracy works for us. Pity you all don't understand how it really works. It got so bad that a polemecist of the first order, Michael Moore, got cred for being the counterbalancing voice. And to the extent that a balance was needed, and still is, he is 100% right. Disgusting that this is true, but there it is.
So here we sit, waiting for the voice of the people to be heard and interpreted by the Supremes, and fifty secretaries of state, ready willing and able to take the partisan road in choosing to certify or not certify results, if they happen to disagree with their party of origin. I can only hope there is a substantial margin, whichever way it goes. I cannot abide a thirty day argument, with the final result the poll of 9 old men and women, all lawyers, and all immune to realpolitik, and largely appointed by Newt's Posse. And a result at odds with the actual balloting. I can only wish for an actual election. I can live with the result either way. I will have lower taxes and lower personal freedom if George wins. Good for my bank account, and I don't really want to do anything outlandish anyway. I am lucky to be a white heterosexual married male in America with good job, and no real prospects of losing my job to a Mexican Maquiladora. They haven't figured out yet how to export the service industries. Lucky I don't make anything tangible, except taxable income. On the other hand, if John K-not-Kennedy wins, it's gonna cost me. Big bucks. And you know what? I'm willing to pay up. Just to have the next member of the Supremes not be an embarassment like Mr. Justice Thomas, nor a wickedly intelligent and devious activist like Mr. Justice Scalia. Just to be able to admit that I like Paris (not Hilton--ask Clarence Thomas about her) without being spat upon. Just to be able to travel in another country without being called Cowboy, and without being lumped in with the lumpenproletariat that supports our kick-ass we-don't-give-a-shit-foreign policy at all costs, from human life (ours and theirs) to simple credibility. Just to be able to wake up tomorrow on the return of the pendulum from Fascist opinion control to something resembling the country I was born in. Just to hope that the highest aspirations of my coat hangers remains to hang coats. (I have taken a long position in the market on Acme Wire and Hangar, just to be safe.)
Lest you think I have no stake in this matter beyond my tax liability and my sensibilities, let me tell you that my stepson is an Army MP in Iraq, stationed in Baghdad. His job is being a turret gunner in a Humvee. He has been wounded once, but not enough to get him off the line for more than a few hours. My daughter is in the Navy, but not in harm's way yet. She hopes to be, but that is for another day. My stepson arrived for the war on terrorism without functioning goggles against the sand and glare(we bought them for his platoon), without pads to protect their arms from burning on the hot roof of the Humvees (we sent those for the whole company). They battle rats, but our Chinese-made imported rat traps from Wal*Mart help. They have no place to take a dump without exposing themselves to snipers, but we sent some camp potties, and that seems to help. Maybe in 6 more months, maybe not, he will come off the line in the war on terrorism and wait to be sent back. Maybe he will come back in an aluminum casket to no ceremony at Dover AFB, as one turret gunner in his platoon already has, or to Walter Reed, as several other members of his Company have. And maybe he will only come back confused and glad to be alive and guilty that his friend died and other friends are wounded, and guilty for killing strangers, against everything his upbringing ever taught him, and depressed and unsure about how to relate to people who speak of complex things in simple and simple minded ways. I share his depression, but for different reasons. It is difficult to talk of these things, and I haven't had to kill anyone. I doubt he will be able to say anything to anyone except his brothers in arms, who share his hurt and confusion. And god forbid he have an opinion later. The vipers will be waiting in their smug ignorance. Welcome back to America. Now Shut Up.