The Politics of Dancing

Let me tell you a little about the dynamics of my family. I am the youngest of six, five girls, one boy. The first thing people notice when they meet us is that we are close. We spend what may be an unhealthy amount of time together. The second thing people notice is that we are loud and opinionated. The six of us span the socio-economic cross hatch of typical Americans. We are all employed at a wide variety of jobs and our earning are hugely varied from one another. So is our politics. I have learned over the years that my views on life, love and the world are not happily welcomed in the course of a conversation. I am liberal. I believe that people should, overall, be allowed to live the life they choose as long as they are not harming anyone and I firmly believe that our government is sorely out of touch with the needs of the people. This means that in the course of a heated debate about the efficacy of our current administration, I am often the odd man out in my views. As much as I love a good debate, I find that these usually end with me being called a moron by my brother who loves to have the last word. Moron is usually the last word. Not because I have run out of good argumentative points but because it is at that point that I realize he has. I call this phenomenon the "Dance of the School Yard Bully". It's the same scenario on the playground in grade school when two kids get into a shouting match and it inevitably ends up with someone saying "yeah, well, you're stupid!" as if that personal attack has made their point completely. I have tried to argue that calling me a moron does not make his point more valid but that is just an exercise in futility. No, the best thing to do when a debate resorts to "you're a moron" is to sigh, smile and shake your head. It doesn't get your original point across but it does tend to piss off your attacker. There is some satisfaction in that!