Diei Stulti
This post is an attempt to give my readers an in-depth study on the churning quagmire of chaos that I like to call “the liberal mind”. If you are like me, there are times when you simply cannot fathom what liberals are thinking. I am writing this post as a fictional first-person account of a day in the life of a liberal in Santa Barbara, CA. It has been gleaned from my life experience, but since I have only observed actions of liberals, the inner thoughts of which I write are only guesswork. It may help explain what they are thinking, if not why.
0630: I awaken to the gentle cooing of a recording of the spotted owl. As I turn over in bed, I can’t help but think of how horrible it must be to have one’s home destroyed by those barbaric loggers trying to make money by building houses. If only people would practice population control!
0700: I enter the kitchen after getting dressed to make wife (notice that I do not call her MY wife, since she is not property:) and son some breakfast. I do all the cooking in an effort to defy traditional gender stereotypes. Unfortunately, my efforts to break down stereotypes have not been entirely successful—son (Rainbow) has refused to gently play with the dolls wife (Moondust) and I have given him. He always rips off their heads. Moondust and I took him to a child psychiatrist to try to explore the reasons for his violent tendencies, and maybe gently help him to focus his energies in other areas, but the knuckle-dragging buffoon we went to merely laughed and said behavior such as this was perfectly normal for six-year-old boys. Moondust and I sure gave him a piece of our minds!
0730: Moondust and Rainbow come into the kitchen. I kiss the top of Moondust’s head, and as I nearly poke my eye out, I can’t help but wish she would use less gel to spike her hair. Instantly, I am ashamed of myself for this closed-minded attitude. How dare I want to suppress the expression of her personality? I love everything about her, from her bare feet to her multi-studded ears. I am mortified to admit that it took me a while to get used to the chain going from her ears to her nose-ring. Rainbow sits down, and I can’t help but notice that he seems to be pouting. I inquire about his feelings, and he asks if he can have his name changed. I am a little surprised, but tell him that if he feels that is right for him, then we will. My jaw dropped open, though, when he told us he wanted to be called John. Why is he falling for traditional stereotypic names?
0800: Moondust leaves for work. She works as a counselor at the local high school while she takes night classes for her master’s degree in psychology. I am so proud of her! I take Rainbow to school and drop him off after reminding him that I would prefer he not play dodgeball—far too violent. I am disturbed to see him roll his eyes, but I have always encouraged him to share his feelings in whatever way is right for him.
0830: I arrive at the gathering place for the “Speak Out” session of the political group I belong to. I work at home as an artist (although you will most likely not see my work as most stores refuse to carry it due to the owners’ archaic “morality”), so I am able to take part in these things on week days. We all make our own signs to carry, they are about whatever topic we feel strongly about. My sign says “Bush is dumb”, and has a picture of Bush in a chimpanzee costume. Last week a passerby came up to me and told me that my sign proved nothing and was a meaningless expression of my opinion. I told him where to get off! Why should I care about the opinion of someone who disagrees with me?! I think my sign is very witty. The other speakers (I like to call them comrades, so I can fantasize about living in a communist world) carry signs such as: “Stop the hate—torch the churches”, “Protect separation of church and state—outlaw prayer in public”, and “Abortion—prevent overpopulation”. I am so grateful to have such great and brave people around me who aren’t afraid to speak their minds!
1230: One of my comrades points out a hummer driving by—it has a bumper sticker that says “Run, Hillary, Run!” on its front bumper. My comrades have been passing these out in support of Hillary running for president. I am surprised that someone in a hummer would have one of these bumper stickers, but I wave anyway. It wasn’t until the driver waved back in a rather rude way that I realized the significance of the sticker's being on the front bumper rather than the back. I am disgusted by the sentiment, but can’t help wishing I had thought of doing that with a Bush sticker before the election. All my comrades and I had done was to take down all the Bush signs that we saw and replace them with Kerry signs. Some of my comrades had qualms about that, but I reminded them that the conservatives do not have the right to enforce their opinions on us.
1700: I return home. I had almost as much fun today as I did when I laid in the streets with my comrades to protest the war in Iraq. Boy did the traffic get mad then! I start dinner—tonight we are having tofu and organically grown vegetables. Rainbow is home already, and seems disgusted by all the bugs on the vegetables. I remind him that bugs are natural, and pesticides aren’t as I gently nudge the bugs off.
1730: Moondust gets home, and appears to have been crying. I ask what is wrong, and she starts sobbing. The principal had told her that she would have to start wearing shoes and take off her nose chain due to health and safety issues! How dare he try to impose his opinions on his subordinates? I promise to call the ACLU the next morning. She also says that one of the students who had passed her in the hall had been carrying a Bible. I am livid—why are such hate-mongering pieces of literature allowed in school? I see that I am going to have to make a list of things to tell the ACLU.
1830: I go up to my studio and work until bedtime. I am currently expressing my feelings on the current state of politics in America. So far I have spray-painted a shoe gray and glued it to a paper plate with pieces of macaroni stuck to it—quite promising if I do say so myself!
2200: I go to bed, although I can hear the TV since Rainbow is still up. Moondust and I decided that we should allow him to do whatever he wants so he can learn what is best for himself. I smile at the pictures of Lenin and Stalin that are on my bedroom wall, and shut off the lights. I have another big day tomorrow!
0630: I awaken to the gentle cooing of a recording of the spotted owl. As I turn over in bed, I can’t help but think of how horrible it must be to have one’s home destroyed by those barbaric loggers trying to make money by building houses. If only people would practice population control!
0700: I enter the kitchen after getting dressed to make wife (notice that I do not call her MY wife, since she is not property:) and son some breakfast. I do all the cooking in an effort to defy traditional gender stereotypes. Unfortunately, my efforts to break down stereotypes have not been entirely successful—son (Rainbow) has refused to gently play with the dolls wife (Moondust) and I have given him. He always rips off their heads. Moondust and I took him to a child psychiatrist to try to explore the reasons for his violent tendencies, and maybe gently help him to focus his energies in other areas, but the knuckle-dragging buffoon we went to merely laughed and said behavior such as this was perfectly normal for six-year-old boys. Moondust and I sure gave him a piece of our minds!
0730: Moondust and Rainbow come into the kitchen. I kiss the top of Moondust’s head, and as I nearly poke my eye out, I can’t help but wish she would use less gel to spike her hair. Instantly, I am ashamed of myself for this closed-minded attitude. How dare I want to suppress the expression of her personality? I love everything about her, from her bare feet to her multi-studded ears. I am mortified to admit that it took me a while to get used to the chain going from her ears to her nose-ring. Rainbow sits down, and I can’t help but notice that he seems to be pouting. I inquire about his feelings, and he asks if he can have his name changed. I am a little surprised, but tell him that if he feels that is right for him, then we will. My jaw dropped open, though, when he told us he wanted to be called John. Why is he falling for traditional stereotypic names?
0800: Moondust leaves for work. She works as a counselor at the local high school while she takes night classes for her master’s degree in psychology. I am so proud of her! I take Rainbow to school and drop him off after reminding him that I would prefer he not play dodgeball—far too violent. I am disturbed to see him roll his eyes, but I have always encouraged him to share his feelings in whatever way is right for him.
0830: I arrive at the gathering place for the “Speak Out” session of the political group I belong to. I work at home as an artist (although you will most likely not see my work as most stores refuse to carry it due to the owners’ archaic “morality”), so I am able to take part in these things on week days. We all make our own signs to carry, they are about whatever topic we feel strongly about. My sign says “Bush is dumb”, and has a picture of Bush in a chimpanzee costume. Last week a passerby came up to me and told me that my sign proved nothing and was a meaningless expression of my opinion. I told him where to get off! Why should I care about the opinion of someone who disagrees with me?! I think my sign is very witty. The other speakers (I like to call them comrades, so I can fantasize about living in a communist world) carry signs such as: “Stop the hate—torch the churches”, “Protect separation of church and state—outlaw prayer in public”, and “Abortion—prevent overpopulation”. I am so grateful to have such great and brave people around me who aren’t afraid to speak their minds!
1230: One of my comrades points out a hummer driving by—it has a bumper sticker that says “Run, Hillary, Run!” on its front bumper. My comrades have been passing these out in support of Hillary running for president. I am surprised that someone in a hummer would have one of these bumper stickers, but I wave anyway. It wasn’t until the driver waved back in a rather rude way that I realized the significance of the sticker's being on the front bumper rather than the back. I am disgusted by the sentiment, but can’t help wishing I had thought of doing that with a Bush sticker before the election. All my comrades and I had done was to take down all the Bush signs that we saw and replace them with Kerry signs. Some of my comrades had qualms about that, but I reminded them that the conservatives do not have the right to enforce their opinions on us.
1700: I return home. I had almost as much fun today as I did when I laid in the streets with my comrades to protest the war in Iraq. Boy did the traffic get mad then! I start dinner—tonight we are having tofu and organically grown vegetables. Rainbow is home already, and seems disgusted by all the bugs on the vegetables. I remind him that bugs are natural, and pesticides aren’t as I gently nudge the bugs off.
1730: Moondust gets home, and appears to have been crying. I ask what is wrong, and she starts sobbing. The principal had told her that she would have to start wearing shoes and take off her nose chain due to health and safety issues! How dare he try to impose his opinions on his subordinates? I promise to call the ACLU the next morning. She also says that one of the students who had passed her in the hall had been carrying a Bible. I am livid—why are such hate-mongering pieces of literature allowed in school? I see that I am going to have to make a list of things to tell the ACLU.
1830: I go up to my studio and work until bedtime. I am currently expressing my feelings on the current state of politics in America. So far I have spray-painted a shoe gray and glued it to a paper plate with pieces of macaroni stuck to it—quite promising if I do say so myself!
2200: I go to bed, although I can hear the TV since Rainbow is still up. Moondust and I decided that we should allow him to do whatever he wants so he can learn what is best for himself. I smile at the pictures of Lenin and Stalin that are on my bedroom wall, and shut off the lights. I have another big day tomorrow!
posted by Chris Emlyn at 1:55 PM
2 Comments:
That was hilarious! I caught just a glimpse of the slam against loggers and the listening to the sound of spotted owls while sleeping and just about skipped the rest to give you a piece of my mind, but then I realized I'd missed the first paragraph. Kind of essential in getting the point here! Thanks, I enjoyed it immensely!
Lisa
I'm glad you saw the first paragraph! I hate to think of someone believing that I truly believe all the rubbish that I made my liberal character write. Glad you liked it.
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