The Beat Goes On

I just got some email humor from  people I've known for fifty-some years.  Onion domes on the White House.  Marlboro cowboy on a camel.  Colonel Sanders wearing a turban.  A Shell oil sign with the "S" taken off.  The message was that I should think before voting for that guy Obama.  I don't remember any more of the pictures; but I do remember the sigh that escaped me as I closed the mailing.

I threw it out and wasn't going to respond, but then I did.  I wrote, "BooYah!  Let's use racism to make our voting choices for us. 'Oh, say, can you see,  By the...' Oh, wait.  No, you can't."

I've  refused to let politics choose my friends for me.  These aren't intimate friends, but we went through school together and then our paths diverged.  We'd reunited and were having a good time, when in came the Bush years.  We were told, then, that we couldn't trust our neighbors.  They might disagree with what the government was doing, and that would make them a) Unpatriotic  b) Terrorist sympathizers c) Both, and worse.

It worked.  We focused on distrusting our friends with different political views, and we focused away from the destruction of our economy, our status in the world, and our mission statement while all three were being strangled to death.  I've read that in George Washington's time, the same ploy was used.  Poor whites were taught to hate black immigrant slaves, so that they would stop resenting what the rich white landowners had.  See "Jefferson's Pillow" for details.  And that, boys and girls, is how we became racists.

Having resisted the efforts to de-friend me from old acquaintance, I stand here on my little piece of ground wondering why I cared enough to stay friends, in this case.  These folks know and dislike my views and have called me names, while reminding me they love me.  Why do I bother with the ripostes?

I must admit that I think I can come up with some pretty funny stuff, and that is a part of why I write back.  I'm good at snappy comebacks.  I want folks to know that I don't just lie down and take the crap being served.  At the same time, I look for things we can both agree upon and share those as conversation.

I guess the other part of why I respond is that when the world goes belly-up on hate, these folks will remember when they knew some people with another point of view.  That will be just before the Morlocks sound the whistle calling them in to be made into food. Is it worth it?  I'm thinking that over.  (sigh)