After running errands yesterday afternoon, I
dropped in at a wine shop I occasionally frequent. Sampling a few bottles trying to decide upon
a purchase I struck up a conversation with the shopkeeper, Michelle.
Treetop’s a small town, and it doesn’t take
long after moving here before half the people you see look familiar. You also make a chatting acquaintance with folks working at the local businesses.
Michelle’s one of these acquaintances, and she made casual conversation with
me in between waiting on other customers. Once we’d exhausted the usual topics,
such as the weather, our respective weekend plans, and the press of tourists
taking advantage of ski season, our talk drifted to politics.
Treetop has its share of Republicans, the
Kiwanis and Rotary crowd, but I’ve heard few people of any persuasion around
here speak favorably of Donald Trump.
Given the town’s public face as a freethinking home for artists and New
Age devotees enjoying the good life, this isn’t surprising. The conventional wisdom is that Treetop is a
blue island in a red, albeit libertarian, sea.
Having last seen each other before the
election, Michelle and I were quick to voice our mutual horror at the outcome. She told me of a very awkward family holiday
gathering where the pro-Hillary relatives bickered with the pro-Donald. I told her I was the only member of my family
who supported Clinton, though I didn’t think very many of them actually voted.
Seated a few stools down was a tourist nursing
a glass of Prosecco. He was a fireplug
of a guy in his late twenties with a bushy beard and camouflage ball cap. He ignored us, listlessly fiddling with his
phone. He ignored us until Michelle made
an offhand comment that some of the Trump supporters she’d talked to seemed
pretty closed minded. Or something like
that; it didn’t register as anything to respond to with more than a vague nod
and an “Mmmhmm.”
Beardie jerked up his head and snapped at
Michelle, “People like you can afford to think like that.”
Michelle was startled, and stammered that she
hadn’t meant any offense. Beardie would
not be appeased so easily.
“Look,” he said. “You don’t see what it’s like for
Americans. You’re educated, making a good
wage plus big tips, living in a place where nobody sees what’s going on in the
real world.” Michelle fidgeted
uncomfortably, while a young couple in parkas and snow pants gazed sidelong at
us from the far end of the counter.
“Well, there are different perspectives, don’t
you think?” I said in a feeble attempt at shifting the discussion. No dice.
“I know things you don’t,” proclaimed
Beardie. He went on to tell us that he
worked as a contractor in cyber operations.
We didn’t know the threats surrounding the country. Obama was weak on national security and made
America vulnerable to its enemies. Only
Donald Trump could make us safe.
I considered throwing Trump’s statement that he
didn’t need daily intelligence briefings because he’s so smart at Beardie, but
thought better of it. Instead I said
that Trump won because he preyed on working peoples’ fears and
resentments. It’s globalization, automation,
and offshoring which are behind their troubles, which are beyond the ability of
any president to fully remedy. Meanwhile,
Michelle used my futile effort at reasoning with the guy to slip away and wait
on a new customer.
At least I was able to change the subject, or
at least spin it in a different direction.
Beardie retorted, rapping his
knuckles on the counter for emphasis, “You know who’s responsible for dividing
this country…Obama! Everything was just fine until he was
President!”
“I’m pretty sure this country’s been divided
longer than that. In fact, it’s been
divided as long as I can remember.”
“No, it wasn’t!
No, it wasn’t! It was Obama! I know things you don’t!” Yeah, I think you said that already. This fellow’s nearly half my age, and he’s
learned so much. I guess I should have
been awed, but I just wasn’t feeling it.
“I’m not a dumb guy,” Beardie went on. “I went to UCLA. I work in cyber ops.” Yes, you mentioned that, too. By this point I was reduced to enduring his
verbal onslaught until he spent himself, fervently hoping this point would come
sooner than later.
“Obama endangered this country by letting in
all the illegals.” Really? The former Deporter-in-Chief would be mighty
disappointed to hear this.
“And it’s not just the Mexicans. You should’ve seen Washington after the Women’s
March! Trash everywhere, water bottles,
paper, they have no respect for themselves or anybody!” Hmmm, you must never have been to a rock
concert or street parade. But, okay.
“And they burn the American flag! The women, the illegals, the Bernie
supporters, they all burn the flag!”
That’s interesting. I’m fifty years old. I’ve lived and traveled in countries where
Americans aren’t particularly popular. And
I have never, ever seen Old Glory desecrated in my presence. I begin to point this out, but Beardie cuts
me off. After all, the winner of any
debate is the one who shouts loudest, right?
Beardie continued to lay into his country’s
adversaries, real and imagined. “They
don’t know how good they have it.”
Who? Liberals? Women? The “illegals”? He didn’t say.
“They take out student loans and use the money
to take vacations and spend their time going to demonstrations. Then when they’re unemployed and stuck with
student debt they expect me to support them with my taxes! Thirty percent of student loans are used just
for vacations and cars and clothes! Can
you believe that?”
“Wait a minute,” I managed to interject, “thirty
percent? Where’d you get that statistic?”
It seemed like a reasonable question, but
Beardie looked at me as if I’d gored his sacred cow. He’d quoted a fact. I should just accept it at face value. Just like he accepts the facts, true or
otherwise, spouted by his idol.
Beardie stammered a couple of seconds, then
said, “Scarborough. I heard it on
Scarborough’s show. You know who
Scarborough is, right?”
As an insomniac, Morning Joe on MSNBC has been staple early morning viewing. So, yes, I know who Republican congressman
turned news host Joe Scarborough is despite being a brie-snarfing, rosé-swilling
anti-Trump pantywaist. Still, I find it
hard to believe that Beardie got this from MSNBC or any other mainstream news
outlet.
I began to say as much when Beardie’s phone
buzzed. Holding up an imperious finger
to silence me, he answered and almost immediately began yammering
agitatedly. A moment later he threw a
twenty on the counter and, still unleashing a verbal torrent at whoever was on
the other end, hurried out the front door.
(Must’ve been a ultra top secret cyber ops matter.)
As the door slammed shut, Michelle, the young
couple from the ski slopes, and I stared at each other mutely for a
moment. What the hell just happened? One of us finally spoke up. We talked awkwardly about the previous few
minutes, then moved on to other subjects.
A pall hung in the air, though, and after a few minutes I paid and left. As I walked out, I saw Beardie leaning
against a wall still braying into his phone.
He ignored me as I walked past.
You might think I’m making up this vignette, or
at least exaggerating. But it happened
nearly verbatim. Trump’s devotees object to being stereotyped as
bigoted and stupid. The reasonable part
of me wants to believe that this is in fact a stereotype. But when a piece of confirming evidence manifests itself
right in front of you, you can’t ignore it.
Who needs strawmen when you have Trump
supporters like this?
© 2017 The Unassuming Scholar
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