You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy™
The National Divorce.
The differences in political viewpoints in this country are stagnating.
They are a clogged toilet, occasionally backing up, gurgling a nasty viscous goo.
Planned Parenthood and gun control and taxes and abortion and immigration.
How is it suppose to work?
Is there a plunger big enough to unclog the blockage?
300 million people.
300 million opinions, beliefs, hopes and desires.
At the end of the day, every freaking day, It’s a divided camp.
It’s US fighting US in the U.S.
As I write this, you have a strong opinion on the school massacre in Oregon.
I can predict with 99.99% accuracy that you are appalled.
I can predict with 99.99% accuracy that you are 50% divided on what to do about it.
Take away guns? Legislate ammunition? More attention to mental health? Arm everyone? Put guns in holsters attached to teachers?
I don’t care what you think. You have the right to think it.
That’s the beautiful thing about a country with 300 million, mostly legal citizens.
But it’s this political clogged toilet that concerns me.
The arguments are powerful on both sides.
Few people are moderate enough to get out of the trench and listen to the other entrenched encampment.
If you believe X then you tune into X at the expense of listening to Y.
If you believe Y then you only listen to the overtures of Y regardless of what the argument is.
This is a national divorce where nobody gets divorced and moves on.
There’s no resolution. There’s no solutions.
America is angry, unsatisfied, hateful of the body politic laying beside them.
If this nation was married, it is politically and philosophically laying in bed with someone they hate, want to kill, loathe.
Democrats and Republicans lay in bed, staring at the ceiling fan, angrily tugging on the covers every single night.
This national divorce is perpetual and hostile and fruitless.
Take out the garbage.
You take out the garbage.
And so it goes.
Guns and taxes and wage increases.
If this was a divorce, the judge would make us go to mediation.
Both sides would hate each other and hate a good portion of what the mediator ordered us to do.
But in the end, we would learn to live with the mediation. We would taste the bile in our stomach over the issues we still loathe, will always loathe. But we would learn to relax with the issues that we once fought about, that were settled, possibly in our favor.
And that is the end of it.
Suck it up, move on, start a new life.
You can either lay in bed and hate that bag of flesh next to you or you can pack your bags, take what you can carry and get the hell out.
You can sit at your breakfast table forever and listen to the chortling snot sucking sounds of the politics you detest, or you can walk out, move away, and start fresh.
Will it be painful to start your new life with only a frying pan and a set of steak knives?
Yes.
Can you live with planned parenthood, but give up on global warming initiatives?
You may have to.
America needs to cut the baggage and go out on a date with a new political philosophy.
Wine her, dine her take her to bed.
What’s that?
The tingle of a process that works, that wants to please, that needs love.
My advice America?
Get divorced. If you live in California, it’s half. No questions asked.
Some of you get higher taxes, some of you pack your bags and walk back to Mexico.
I don’t care.
Higher taxes. Lower taxes.
It doesn’t matter anymore.
You can’t both take the silver serving tray in the foyer.
One of you gets it and one of you gets a memory of it.
Learn to live with it.
And move on.
Start a new national attitude.
To get a long you have to go along, sometimes, most tmes.
Unless you want to tug on the covers with that political persuasion you hate, making sure your feet don’t touch their feet, get over it.
Learn to give to get.
Mediate, modulate, moderate.
Get over it America.
Life’s Crazy™