The U.S. election has been particularly brutal this year. Of course, I’ve made no secret of my utter disdain for Trump. I fear the worst if he is reelected. However, I’ve read conservatives fear the worst if Biden is elected. Both sides have deeply seated emotions that are on full display and propagated in news outlets and on social media.
It got me thinking about how things used to be. I seem to recall my parents did not tell each other who they voted for, although I remember a Goldwater bumper sticker on the car. That was just posturing. Who you actually voted for was your own private business. Dale said his parents were the same, and he only learned his father was a Democrat years after he died.
Even after a stint in the Army and 20 years as an Army wife, I can’t recollect any serious political conversations with friends or colleagues. A bit of social commentary for sure, but we mostly talked about beer, food, family, work, travel, music, romance and sports. It was fun.
Back when we were having those get-togethers, we assumed no one was exactly like us, so we made an effort to find common ground. With the internet, a lot of people found their tribe, and now they don’t want to socialize with anyone who doesn’t think, act or look like them.
It’s all quite tiresome. While I continue to support causes and candidates I care about, politics has become a dreary topic of conversation. I’m burned out. Aren’t you? I noticed there are no political yard signs in our neighborhood, and I love it. It seems rather peaceful in our little bubble.
Politics and neighborhoods … maybe it’s like marriage. Not everything needs to be said.
A mysterious visitor
Dale had an unusual experience last week, and no, I’m not talking about yard work.
He went to get gas and was parked by the tank, about to fill up. A neatly groomed older guy – Dale said maybe 60s – approached him. The man was wearing shorts Dale said were a little shorter than what’s in fashion (as if Dale would know) and a shirt tucked in. No mask.
The visitor said, “I’m from another area, and I’m not sure how this works. Do I go in and pay?”
Dale asked him if he had a credit card, and the guy said yes. Dale explained he could pay at the pump. The guy got his credit card out and fiddled around with the machine, finally asking Dale if he could help him. Dale showed him how it worked. Before the guy pressed the button for gas, he said, “Oh, is this unleaded?”
By this time, Dale is wondering what the hell? But he said in his nicest Mr. Know-It-All voice, “We haven’t had leaded gas in the U.S. in more than 20 years.”
The guy said, “Oh, OK, thanks.”
Dale’s telling me this story, and I said, “Are you sure he didn’t say he was from another era?”
We both laughed, but that leaves us with some decisions to make. Who was this unmasked man, and why was he so clueless? Here are your choices:
- Time traveler
- Alien
- Recently incarcerated or otherwise institutionalized
- Other?
I’m voting for time traveler and an unlucky one at that. Time travel should come with a warning: Beware 2020. As for the other choices, it seems like even someone institutionalized would be more savvy, and I’m pretty sure aliens don’t have credit cards … let’s hope not, anyway.
Definitely a time traveller! Or maybe some mysterious rich guy who gave his valet/butler the day off and had to pump his own gas for the first time in decades. Great story. Thanks, Donna!
Deb
That’s a good theory. I think Dale said the car was nothing fancy. But maybe he likes to hide his wealth.
A Russian operative drop6her to disrupt our election
Oh no! I talked politics. 🙂
Oops dropped here
Another great choice. I imagine a Russian operative would be better informed, you know, like his handlers would have told him about pumping gas, but I guess you have to cut them some slack since they’ve been so busy disrupting.
Maybe from New Jersey where we don’t pump our own gas!!!!!
I did not know that! Could be. I’ll have to ask Dale if he saw the license plate.
I think I’m an unobservant gasoline user. I remember making sure I grabbed the unleaded pump – started driving in 1981. The leaded ones aren’t even there anymore???? Good to know! Maybe I shouldn’t admit this.
I think the guy has been living at his own Walden Pond for the last 20 years. He’s trying conventional life again to see if he’s missing anything. He’s not.
I think it’s OK to admit it here — we try not to judge. I like the Walden Pond theory.
I initially read this title as “erection fatigue”!!! I’m sure there’s a whole other blog somewhere for that.
If it’s any consolation, I live in Canada and I’m now thoroughly fed up reading/watching/experiencing about the upcoming US election.
But I have to state the obvious: for the love of God, please make it Biden. Or pretty much anyone, other than the Orange one.
I think the world is fed up with it. Let’s hope a change is gonna come.
I humor I would say alien. In seriousness I would say functional or partially functional early dementia. Started out in his car with a plan and lost his mind/memory.
Wow, I hope it wasn’t dementia. That never occurred to me. I wouldn’t make light of an illness like that.
I was thinking dementia, too, but I’d rather think time traveler. Too bad Dale didn’t get a look at the license plate. Or maybe Dale got picked up by an alien spaceship, and they mind probed him, putting this event into his memory banks. Or maybe it was someone who had been living off the grid since short-shorts days (when were those fashionable for men?) and finally had to come out of the woods. So many possibilities. . .
Oh, yeah. I like the way you think!
November 4 can’t come soon enough. It makes me sick to think of all the money spent during elections. There are thousands of better uses for it. And do all the ads make any difference? There should be limits.
I know what you mean about all that money. It’s hard to think about all the good it could have done.