I think I may have finally figured out the key difference between liberals and conservatives. I mean beyond all the obvious policy differences, religious differences, blah, blah, blah. Forget all those for the moment. Here's what, after too many years thinking about this, I've decided: Liberals tell us, that no matter how good things seem for the individual or society as a whole, they are way worse than we believe. Our relatively boring, comfortable lives are not what they should be. In short, we don't have it as good as we COULD. Of course to achieve this higher state of happiness, bliss, or whatever, we must let government have vastly more power over our day-to-day lives. Conservatives conversely, tell us that no matter how bad we think things are, they really aren't. They could be worse. Way worse. We have it better than we deserve, or even know. Be grateful, at all costs. Because if those pesky liberals had more influence, our happiness, bliss, or whatever would decrease exponentially. In short, liberals always see the glass as half-empty; conservatives as half-full. The basic worldviews between the 2 sides are polar opposites. It's why liberals tend to be miserable all the time. And are often no fun to hang out with. And while many conservatives are tragic bores, at least they don't constantly depress you. Me? I don't see the glass as half-empty or half-full, I just wanna know what kind of booze is in there. Scotch???
Another thing I think I've figured out, though it's somewhat painful to admit, is that while I tend to see things that others rarely see in a situation, ask questions no one else would consider asking, and offer alternatives that no one else would consider to solve problems, I often miss the big picture, the obvious. I focus on the minutiae, the obscure - I'm an outlier. And that has its merits, no doubt. But by so often missing, ignoring, or overlooking what most folks see or take from a situation, I live in what has to be charitably called a warped reality. Let me give you an example: whenever I read or see a news story, or even some work of fiction or a movie, about some tragedy that befalls a person, I rarely react to it in any kind of socially accepted emotional way - I'm incapable of empathy. However, if in a similar sad type tale, the person who has been visited by tragedy has a pet, I react very differently. I only wanna know if the pet is okay. I get very emotional about the pet. I don't react at all to the person. That kind of thing, I've been reminded a few times, is not healthy or normal. But I can't help it. It's just how I'm wired. In my reality, my compassion for a person pales in comparison to my compassion for an animal. When I was a young kid and saw Wizard Of Oz the first time (I was maybe 6 or 7), I was never remotely concerned if Dorothy made her way back to Kansas. Instead, I was worried to death about Toto. For example, during the tornado scene, when Dorothy is racing back to her aunt's house, I was unconcerned if she made it back or not, I kept looking at the bottom of the screen for Toto scooting along, and hoped like hell that the dog made it back. And when those flying monkeys came and scooped up that little dog, I started crying like crazy. I dare say, most kids did not have this reaction to the film. Sure, they cared that Toto was safe. But it wasn't their main worry watching the movie. For me, it was my ONLY worry watching the movie.
In a slightly similar vein, I was talking to Greensboro's favorite lush/day bar manager, KC of Wing Joint on Battleground fame, a few Fridays ago. Now, it was late, after 12. And KC was feeling it a bit, to say the least. Well, earlier that week she somehow got this blog address and had managed to read some of the stupid posts. Which is fine, whatever. KC kept complaining about how in the stories I relay here involving the Wing Joint, I make myself appear to be above all the drunken silliness. She said at one point, "_____, you were just as drunk if not more drunk than anyone else." And I dismissed this criticism at first as ridiculous. Because if you read, say 25 random posts, you should get the clear impression that I'm hammered at times, and not comporting myself properly in polite society. At the time I told her, "KC, they're stories. They don't necessarily reflect exactly what happened. Are you familiar with poetic license?" And I tried to leave it at that. But I've thought about that drunken conversation with KC a few times since that Friday and have come to the conclusion that her comment did have some merit, at least in the context of what I wrote in the previous paragraph. By that I mean, beyond twisting events to make them more amusing, maybe I miss the overarching reality of whatever happened. Do I tend to focus completely on the minute or trivial, and walk away from experiences totally missing the real significance of whatever happened? Of course I could easily defend that by noting that nothing of any significance ever happens at the Wing Joint late at night when everyone is half-hammered. And I don't think I'd be wrong about that. Still, I think this same deficiency in character, focusing solely on the trivial, may bleed over to other, less frivolous aspects of life (if there are any) than drunken bar shenanigans. I just rarely write about anything that isn't frivolous. Mainly, I admit, because I see all of human existence as totally frivolous. And that's something to explore on a different day. Maybe.
Speaking of utter frivolity, I am now gonna give all of you a glimpse into a typical football Saturday for me here this fall. I'm gonna relay what happened 4 days ago, on October 16. Now, it's important to note that Brandon was not in town Saturday. He was at some car race near Charlotte with his girl Lassie and his ex-girlfriend Kylie and who knows what other chicks. So, I was flying solo. I only bet 2 games Saturday and neither of them started at 12, so I was in no great rush to make it to a bar super early. I took off about 2:30 so I could see the 4th quarter of the noon games. I stopped to get 2 packs of smokes from a smelly Pakistani (cliched, but accurate) at a Quickie Mart on Lawndale. Then proceeded downtown toward RumbleForeskins, parked on W Market, and strolled into the bar. My man Tommy was bartending as always on Saturday afternoons. Tommy is a Bama fan - he's from Alabama, so I don't give him any grief about being a front-runner. I sat down and the usual cast of characters were there. I was immediately barraged with questions about point spreads and who I bet on and blah, blah, blah. I had Iowa as one of my two bets and Tommy put the game on the big screen for me. I stood and watched, not saying much to anyone. Eventually Iowa started to look golden (although it got a bit dicey at the end) and I sat down at the bar next to, of all things, a Boise fan. I'd seen this guy in there before and he's a big, burly, and pretty amiable dude. He's not too bad to sit next to sober (I'm very picky about who I sit next to sober at the sport's bar - the drunker I get, the less I care). And this Boise guy was rooting for all the other undefeated teams to lose and that was fine, whatever. At one point I got in my classic conversation with the guy about the difference between fans and graduates. I think I've blogged about this before. There is a huge distinction between randomly choosing some school to cheer for and having actually put the time in at said school to earn a degree (or 2). The Boise guy took my point pretty well. He was merely a fan of the Broncos. I am a slightly embarrassed graduate of TOSU. Big difference. At one point a Michigan fan came in, another guy I'd talked to a few times. He was so down on the Wolverines it was pathetic. We watched their comeback attempt fall short. I was relieved. Then I left RumbleForeskins. I'd had 5 Miller Lite 12 ounce cans over a 4 hour period. I was not in any hurry to drink. I had a long night ahead of me. I drove out W Market and pulled into a terrible place called Mender's Tavern right at 7, just in time for the TOSU/Badger game. I found myself highly annoyed right from the get-go. One, there was a Cornhole Tournament going on outside (and as you all know, I despise Cornhole). Two, the people in there were ugly. And three, there were moronic and loud Badger women in the bar. After Wisconsin raced out to that 14-0 lead, I had to get out of there for my own sanity. I only imbibed one beer at Mender's. I drove further out W Market and stopped into a truly horrible place called Winnie Cooper's. And there were so many ugly TOSU women in that place, not to mention ugly women rooting for the Phillies, that I only lasted until halftime. I had 2 more Miller Lites. It was 8:30-ish. I really needed to eat and it was halftime. So, I went over to Quaker Village and stumbled into some Mexican joint. It was dead. I ordered Devil Shrimp or something. It was delicious. While there I hoisted back a couple Mexican draft beers & a shot of Patron. I was starting to feel it at that point. Just before 9, I waltzed into that wing place on N Garden. TOSU was making a bit of a comeback. They eventually pulled within 3, and then choked. There was a dude in there with a TOSU jersey on and at one point as I was headed out to smoke, I asked what year he graduated, knowing full well that the answer was never. I said, "Oh, okay. You're just a fan then." Once it became clear that TOSU had no magical comeback in them, I started following the Boise score. I was laying 39&1/2. The Broncos were covering that at the half. Relieved, I texted Derek to see where he and Steve were. They were at Bananabees for some reason. I paid for my 2 big beers and shot of Cuervo, then headed out. I'd lost track of time. I pulled into Bananabees a few minutes later, walked over to the bar and had 2 beers with Derek & Steve. We talked about something. I have no idea what exactly. I drove home and went to bed. And that is a pretty typical football Saturday.
Hearts fail -young hearts fail
1 comment:
Tommy must be black because you refer to him as "my man."
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