I'm not the sharpest tool in the shed -- hell, I'm probably not even in the top 50%. That's why I found it so funny earlier in the campaign when I'd go to these web sites that were designed to help me choose my candidate. According to the way these sites worked, my best choice president would be the person who agreed with me the most -- like I have a clue!
I don't believe that I always know what is best. A lot of my political positions are based on my feelings and incomplete information. For example, I certainly don't know the ins-and-outs of environmental policies and their associated fiscal and public health implications, but I do know I like the idea of wilderness areas and abundant wildlife and I really don't like gigantic shopping malls and chemicals in my food.
I'm a blue-collar working stiff who's barely managed to put a kid through college, lost a couple of jobs to outsourcing, had two strokes and doesn't have very good health care.
I'm gay, too.
Anyway, so I'm supposed to be all worried about Obama throwing me under the bus, I guess.
You know, if that's what it takes to get him elected. . . well, I'm okay with it.
He wasn't my first choice. So it goes. My guy (gal) usually loses anyway. I don't expect to trust or believe in a candidate like people "trust" or "believe in" a savior . . . they're just people. I do think Obama is a whole lot smarter than I am. So, even though I'd like to think he could get elected without making me into roadkill, I'm don't claim to be smart enough to really know if it would/will make the crucial difference.
For me, though, it comes down to perspective. There's a lot more at stake than gay rights -- and . . . when it comes right down to it . . . I think some of those things are more important than gay rights. Some are immediate things like health care and jobs and education. Some are more long range like global warming and endless war.
But. It hurts. It does.
I know my life would have different -- and much better -- if marrying another man had been a viable option when I was growing up. I might have had the courage to come out before I was in my 30's . . .
water under the bridge. I'm so far past being angry and so far away from moral outrage anymore . . . I mean, after Iraq and Abu Ghraib, I'm supposed to get all bent out of shape because One More Homophobe Gets Our Candidate's Support?
I understand some people do get all bent out of shape. Maybe they are right . . . I'm quite prepared to admit I'm wrong (in fact, that's generally the right assumption when it comes to my decisions and my thinking) . . . but, I can't stomach the alternative. I can't have more naked men with electrodes attached their balls in my name . . . no matter what it "costs" me.
I don't want young men to have to go through what I did. I want them to have the chance to love and be loved just like "normal" folks . . . but . . . if I've got to choose . . .
I don't know why or even if I'll have to choose.
But I'm going to choose what I think is best for most of the people. If that bus can't get to Washington, if we can't make things even a tiny bit better, without driving over me . . . well, so be it. I can deal.
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