Eat More Tolerance

I didn’t grow up with Chick-fil-A, though I did grow up in the South.

The smallish town I’m from did not have — and still does not have — much in the way of restaurants, fast-food or otherwise … nor much in the way of shopping, entertainment, and a hundred other things that are not relevant at the moment.

This isn’t about my hometown.

This is about a sandwich.

A good sandwich. A fine sandwich. Hold the pickles.

A sandwich I have loved since at least my teens, when I would look forward to trips outside my hometown to places where this treat was attainable.

A sandwich I splurged on in college whenever the campus newspaper ran two-for-one coupons.

A sandwich I could afford in the days when I was a poor newspaper writer.

A sandwich I could rely upon in recent days amid the otherwise mediocre offerings of the cafeteria in my office building.

A sandwich I have given up.

Not that Chick-fil-A may notice, certainly not today, as some crowds are loyally observing “Chick-fil-A Appreciation Day,” blithely indifferent  to — or worse, supportive of — the restaurant’s stance against gay marriage, a stance evidenced by its CEO’s statements and its history ($5 million and counting) of financial support for organizations that seek to block and roll back equal rights.

I recognize my decision may be insignificant — what difference do a few dollars make in a pile millions high?

May as well ask what difference one vote makes in a pile millions high, yet we are taught early and reminded constantly that “every vote counts.”

So I am voting NO on Chick-fil-A’s anti-equality stance.

Anti-equality stance.

Putting it that way is entirely too kind — let’s be honest here and use the proper term.

Bigotry.

A deliberate choice to actively scorn and deny equality to a group of people based solely on the fact they are different is nothing else.

Bigotry.

Bigotry whose adherents expect a pass by claiming it’s based on a religious principle.

No.

A bigot hiding behind religion is still a bigot.

And a bigot who whines for freedom while actively seeking to deny freedom to others deserves no respect, no sympathy.

But, by all means, bigots, whine on.

Speech is every bit as free today as yesterday, and may it ever be so.

But the loveliest thing about free speech is that everyone gets it, and while the bigots freely speak, so shall enlightened minds.

And we will watch as this bigotry battles enlightenment in the marketplace of ideas, and, as every manner of bigotry before it, loses.

Maybe slowly, certainly painfully. But definitely.

History will march, and such petty, terrible injustices will be dust on the roadside.

Apologies and Plans

[NB: There is a bit of navel-gazing herein, so, even if you’re excited at new content, rest assured that this one is easily skipped, even if what is said below needs to be said. For me, if not for you. Newer better content will be available shortly. No, really. It’s even already written and probably posted by now. Go look.]

I’ve been bad at blogging.

Which is obvious to anyone who keeps even half an eye on this page. (And half an eye is probably still way more eye than necessary to keep up.)

It’s not that I haven’t had bloggable thoughts. Or blogging time. Or even blogging motivation.

Scratch that.

Writing motivation.

Therein lie some of the problem.

I keep thinking of this the way I used to think of professional writing when I wrote newspaper columns.

Partly, that’s good; it is no small thing to aspire to pro quality even, maybe especially, when working in an amateur setting.

There’s also a downside, which is that I have trouble breaking out of a certain mode of thinking: 550 words, well-thought, written for a general audience.

I forget that I can write longer, shorter; I can write for a very narrow segment of readers, or another segment, or no segment; I can fucking curse.

I can write anything I want.

If …

If I can remember not to panic at the thought that I can write anything I want.

And I have no deadlines, so I can’t be late.

But I can’t let the lack of deadlines serve as an excuse for never turning work in.

Or delaying even starting it.

There are other issues, other anxieties, in play, too, but, short of amending my motto — “Wit ,whimsy, and ruminations … with loooong intervals between” — the only thing for them is to relax and bang out some words.

Bang.