Between the Devil and the Deep Blues

If you’ve been reading this column for a while, you know that I am hostile to the ideals, such as they are, of the American Right. Does that mean that I am comfortable with the Brie and Chablis crowd of whining, whingeing Progressives?

By no means! Every day I cringe at the political e-mails I receive from various Democratic operatives soliciting funds and great gobs of my time as a volunteer. (To what—snarl at voters?) And if I don’t give generously, it’ll all be my fault what happens were the Right Whingers to take control and turn this into a Totalitarian Taliban Theocracy.

On one hand, there is outrage and whingeing; and, on the other, outrage and whingeing. I guess it all depends whether one feels more at home with Pentecostals or Agnostics, whether one prefers NASCAR or Grand Opera, whether one listens to the likes of Rush Limbaugh or Stephanie Miller.

Well, I’ll take neither, thank you. Life is difficult enough without all those pre-packaged ideologies to which one has to subscribe. And if you think that makes me wishy-washy, I’ll be happy to disabuse youse!