Other People’s Underwear

Can I get a IV drip of Midazolam until the election is over?  Actually, I love Midazolam–it’s the only reason to get a colonoscopy.  And screening for cancer–that’s good, too . . .

I digress.

It seems to me that we think of our personal politics as our most prized jewelry and election season as gala time. We flaunt what we’ve got all the way down the red carpet and into the voting booth. And why shouldn’t we?  Who hides their sparkly diamonds at a big party? They make us look glorious! Do we show up in our frumpiest attire looking slovenly so others can shine? No. We wear something that we believe to be beautiful and flattering. I’m not saying that people choose their politics for how they look in them per se, but I am saying that I never hear anyone express embarrassment or meekness about them. To date, I cannot recall someone referring to their politics with, “Oh, this old thing?”

It’s nice when folks treat their political convictions the way they do their underwear: it holds things in place, but it’s not for anyone and everyone to see.  It can be full-coverage or demi-, beautiful or basic.  We can’t see it on each other, but we’re pretty sure it’s there.  Some people wear none. And a handful–JUST a handful–of people look fantastic in their underwear.  But we hate those people, right? Well, I do.

There are only a few people on the planet who see me in my underwear. The responses can run the entire spectrum of happy-to-see-me to horror.  Best I spare the general population from seeing either my underwear or my politics.  Both of them do little more by themselves than reveal my aging flaws.

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