Balancing two floundering hobbies, writing and stand up comedy, has shown me that to truly be a successful failure, you need to expand your “brand”. So, I’m going to get into independent filmmaking. My first feature will be a melodramatic reboot of the 1952 classic, High Noon. There will be no dialogue, just me, cast with someone younger and better looking, of course, standing on the hood of a Prius hybrid in a Target parking lot, eating a veggie sub from Whole Foods, staring down people I disagree with as they walk into a Chick Fil A.
The working title is Dumb Down.
The latest fake crisis of my fellow Christians and others boycotting the red big box store for reiterating their bathroom policy of allowing transgender people to use the toilet of their choice reminds of when I was made fun of for my own crisis of conscience in 2012. Four years ago, while working for a now defunct left-leaning political and pop culture site, Sprocket Ink (may we all rest in internet peace), I wrote a column called Tastes Like Bigotry in response to the head honcho of Chick Fil A bashing same-sex marriage (and divorced people, of which, I am) and I told my readers as well as friends and family I was going break my waffle fry addiction and boycott them. Lost in the hullabaloo was the fact, and always lost in hullabaloos are facts, that Chick Fil A was giving money to multiple anti-gay groups including one funneling cash into Uganda where gays were targeted for execution.
Thus, my joke paragraph works, in theory.
What’s really at stake between us who disagree on major issues through political discourse is how we can no longer talk to each other without flushing intelligence and reason down the commode, Target one or not.
It’s an election season so that means the guy who shoved you in a locker in the seventh grade then demanded to cheat off your paper and the girl who called you fat in the ninth grade and later stole your boyfriend are posting their political opinions in meme form while screaming in all caps and exclamation points for any “real Christ followers” to sign the boycott Target petition on the Book Of Face that’s allegedly up to 900,000 Mensa members.
Excuse me while I Cheshire Cat my 2012 existence by mewing I told you so and smirking at the hypocrisy.
The weirdness of how all of us, and notice what I just typed, all of us, act online and off these days is the strange bedfellows it makes.
I’m a southern born, bred and living Christian who likes fried chicken and sweet tea as well a good football running game and a lazy dog on the front porch. But if you were to ask my much more conservative family and friends, I’m what’s ruining the country because you know, liberals hate the Lord and America and love the gays and the Crossfit.
I read the same book my right-winging friends do and as a result I know there’s a significant section of the tome we Baptists and Pentecostals like to call “the red letters“. Those are the ones Jesus spoke. For the unfamiliar or quite frankly, the liars who don’t really read them but say they do, no where in said red letters does the Son Of God, whom I believe existed, died on the cross for my sins and tells me that his salvation is what I need for eternal life after I pass, mention homosexuality, transgenders, liberals, Hillary Clinton, organic foods, NPR, Bernie Sanders, PBS, hybrid cars or retail store potties. The Prince Of Peace does talk a lot about loving your neighbor, being kind, finding common ground, watching your temper and not being a jerk hole on the media that are social. I’m taking liberties with the last one.
Whether any of us can agree and last night I found myself in a good natured argument with my wife about which sixteen-year-old on Chopped Teen Tournament made the best dessert, is pointless if we can’t talk to each other with respect. For the record, Jessica crushed it with her strawberry shortcake crumble and picked up the 25 grand for college.
I wish I saved my hate mail from the 2012 stroll down internet infamy lane. A lot of them came from Christians. I also wish I was good at statistics, graphs and charts so I could share how positive my experience with people who are different from me – gay, bisexual, non-white, wiccans, atheists and fans of the band Journey are in comparison to my poor record with white middle-aged suburban Christians who like a good Van Halen record.
What stresses me out the most is how serious people I’m supposed to like, love, trust and agree with take the least of things in life, so extremely serious. And I wish I could say I was better at this character flaw, too.
I’m over 800 words and haven’t done a dad gum thing to send the country down the tubes since breakfast. I don’t want to disappoint my “fans”.
Thanks, I’m here all week, try the veal but only from Super Target.
Here’s Twenty One Pilots.