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POLITICS AND CONSPIRACIES
ARE AN AWFUL MIX
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It was the 4th of July, and I was at a traditional barbecue
with some people, most of whom I knew, and a few I didn't. It was supposed
to be festive, but because of politics it became depressive.
The guy came out of nowhere. I had never met him before, but he
seemed like a nice person. He was my age and of similar background. We were
introduced by a mutual friend and immediately began talking about similar
interests, like family and sports.
All was going well until he turned the subject towards
politics. It began with him mentioning the children being separated from
their parents at the border, which has been the number one story for some
weeks now.
"I sympathize with parents who have their children taken
away from them," he said as I politely nodded in agreement. "But
the law is the law, and they're coming in illegally."
Uh oh.
I should have walked away right then and there, and my night
would have been fine. I could have celebrated the birth of our country in
peace. Instead, against my better judgment, I got drawn into a political
argument that bothered me for the rest of the night.
We've all been warned to avoid talking politics these days. It
obviously depends on whom you're talking to, and in this case I picked the
wrong guy. He exhibited everything that is wrong with this country during
these turbulent times, and left me with the sense that we're in big trouble.
It's not because we disagreed. Nothing wrong with that. It's
because he left me with no hope of reasonableness. He had no sense of
decorum, no appetite for logic. He had gone off the deep end, and there was
no turning back.
"Do you know the Clintons are responsible for 72 deaths,
all of whom died under mysterious circumstances, " he announced after
he had exhausted his argument for the legitimacy of children being torn from
their parents. "It was 49 people, but now it's up to 72."
I'm serious. This man, who looks like me, has a family like me,
is educated like me---believes the Clintons murdered 72 people. That's how
much he hates them.
"Check the facts," he cried when I told him that was
the most ridiculous thing I'd ever heard. "It's all documented."
He was adamant in his conspiratorial convictions. No argument
could sway him. Anyone who disagreed with him was simply naive. He had
researched it and researched it, and the facts were the facts.
Then he jumped to Obama, claiming the birth certificate he
produced in 2011 to quell the birther movement was forged.
"Do you know the Health official for the state of Hawaii
who verified the birth certificate was killed in a plane crash only months
later?" he asked. "Coincidence? I don't think so."
So now Obama was apparently a murderer, too. I couldn't take it
anymore.
"You've lost all credibility with me," I told him.
"I can't continue this discussion. We're done."
I walked away, thoroughly depressed about the state of American
politics. And it has nothing to do with whether you're liberal or
conservative. This guy happened to be right-wing, but there are just as many
conspiracy theorists who lean far left. They're all part of the problem.
In fact, a Washington Post national poll asked whether voter
fraud would be the reason their preferred candidate lost. 50% of Republicans
said yes, but so did 44% of Democrats. Another poll showed that Republicans
were just as likely to believe that Obama was born abroad as Democrats were
likely to believe that 9/11 was an inside job, orchestrated by Bush
operatives.
Almost everyone apparently loves a conspiracy. The problem is
that conspiracies defy logic, and without logic we can't have intelligent,
meaningful discussions that at least have the possibility of leading
somewhere.
That's what upset me. This man, who seemed intelligent and
articulate, was so ridiculously unreasonable. He gave me no hope, not only
for me to convince him of an argument, but for him to convince me.
For some reason, as I later sat and watched the fireworks
explode in the sky to celebrate the founding of our beautiful country, I
found that to be incredibly sad.
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