Fred2Blue

A fortnightly rant, FL-S style.

The worst fights are usually over who is right. 

Typically, the combatants are people that normally get-along, perhaps even love or admire each other: husbands and wives, mothers and daughters, governors and $4,000-an-hour hookers, spouses and their in-laws.

We have all witnessed such fights, perhaps even participated in one or two, or two-hundred.  And we all are familiar with what happens…

Things start off uneventfully, quite innocently, and almost always with a conversation about absolutely nothing. 

Then out of the blue, one or the other person tosses up a slight, a barb, a snide remark, a put-down of some measure, that sets in motion a chain-reaction.  In response to the insult comes the hurtful comeback, then the loudly voiced airing of grievances (numbered, of course, for added emphasis), followed by the breaking of one or the other’s personal-space zone, fingers pointing, arms flailing, shoulders-fighting, turn-turn-kick-turn, and last but not least, the crescendo: the over-played exit followed by the ever-popular-with-7-year-olds door-slam.

We love our drama.  But, most of all, we love being right.  And of course, I’m right.

The year started off uneventfully, quite innocently.  Eight Democratic Party presidential candidates stood behind lecterns to answer – over and over and over again - with the same sound-bites the same boring eight questions about Bush, Cheney, Iraq, troop deployments, veterans care, taxes, energy policy, and health insurance.

And like an octet of pre-schoolers relaxed and refreshed from their afternoon naps, they all played nicely and acted like a good lady and gentlemen.

But before we could say Potomac Primary, six went home and two remained for after-care.  The parallel play was no longer satisfying, the two started fighting, throwing sand, screaming at each other, jostling for the same toy.  And, I fear they’ll be no milk and cookies for either of them.

Plus Daddy called, he’s on his way here to pick you up.  And, let me tell you two. He is not happy!

Sometime during the last two weeks, this sandbox called the Presidential Primary Season stopped being fun.  And (many of us are) like the two kids weary from the day, but each storing just enough adrenaline to pummel the other in front of Angry Daddy – he, the quick-to-temper man who doesn’t care which one (of you) is right.

Problem is, the who-is-right argument has left the sandbox.  Many of us have taken one side or the other in this race.  Each believes he or she is right and the other wrong.  And at this point no mediation, no remedy, no time-out in time-out corner, seems likely to put an end to the verbal sandstorm. 

Unfortunately, we activists steeped in local Committee politics are in the thick of this sordid fight.  And all of us – be we Obama or Hillary supporters – ALL OF US – have been guilty of some sand-throwing (this writer, included).

Boys and girls, we’re getting ourselves hot, bothered, and detached from reality.  We’re becoming mishuggah, certifiably nuts.  The senslessness has rendered many of us incapable of reason.  And we’re forgetting what has been truly remarkable about 2008: we have a race, the party and the candidates have raised record sums of money, more young people will vote this year than have voted in 40 years, and – with the exception of a few bone-heads – most of the Democrats out there will vote for the eventual nominee.

If we remove our heads from the sand, we could actually win this thing.

Once upon a time, some wise person – probably my mother – said to me:

It is better to be smart, than it is to be right.”

We should heed those words…

…whether we nominate Hillary, Obama, or perhaps what’s behind (Gore) number three.