Why I Don’t Talk Politics

A couple weeks ago, my high school buddies came over to my apartment, one of them kindly pointed out that he can see my office from my window, then tried to persuade me for hours on end that I should write about politics in my blog.  His point, as I understood it, was that no one cares about what I have to say about life and myself.  Really, the only thing people care about in regards to me is my politics.  Why deny the people what they want?  After all, the first rule of mass media, as James Bond so lethally put it (5:19 into the clip), is to give the people what they want.

I feel compelled to respond.

Sure my last post was quasi-political, but I have a general no-politics policy in this blog, not because I want to restrain myself, but because I want to write about something that’s worthwhile.  I spent four politically passionate years in high school indifference, four years in college running off the right cliff when herds of people flocked to the left (including, yes, my formerly indifferent high school buddies) and three years in law school defending myself against venomous attacks.  The intellectual exercise was fun in college and necessary in law school, but I no longer see the point in either trying to persuade or necessity in defending.

Why bother?

It doesn’t take a St. Paul-like epiphany for my acquaintances to learn that I belong to a particular brand of conservatism called “nutty” and the only reason most of you, my friends, would want to read any political blog of mine is the same reason why my mom watches the incurably dumb Keith Olbermann.

You want me to write about why America could never accept universal healthcare–and why it shouldn’t–so you can shake your head in my lack of compassion.  You want me to write about how the Constitution doesn’t say a lick about “separation of church and state” so you can accuse me of unjustly imposing my religious views on you.  You want me to write about how I don’t for a second believe there’s a right to same sex marriage so you can lecture me about the past sins of conservatism like segregation.  You want me to defend George W. Bush, whom I deeply respect, so you can curse me out for worshipping the devil.

You basically want me to write politics so you can feel enraged without guilt and self-rightous without hubris.

No thanks.

There’s nothing funny about political debates.  It could be but it never is because people lack a sense of humor.  I long ago learned to have a healthy dose of humor in my conservatism or lest I’d never stay afloat in the ocean of cluelessness called the academia.  But those who debate politics, conservatives and liberals alike, take their politics and themselves far too seriously.  The fact is, neither the people nor their ideas are that important or novel–if they were, they should be and would be changing the world.  Whatever politics I have to share in this blog has been rehashed somewhere else, likely in the “Comment” section after an article written by a moron like Paul Krugmann.  Quite frankly, I don’t care to have this blog turned into an inconclusive exchange of political dialogue like this one.

The motive behind my no-politics policy is really simple:  why carry on the charade?  Nothing is going to change the fact that most of you think that I’m an idiot.  The feeling is actually quite mutual.  In all of the years that I have known you, in different times, in different settings, in different ways that we exchanged thoughts, did you once think that my ideas were worth listening to because I could be right?  I take no offense in that you didn’t, just as I hope you take no offense in that I didn’t when you shard your thoughts.  The odds are that we exchanged thoughts precisely because of each other’s convictions, but the time for meaningless exchange of ideas has passed.  That was for college when I had the time and inclination.  Now I have neither.  I don’t see why we shouldn’t simply agree to disagree and move on to the more fun and joyous.  Like me and my life.