Arguing with Republicans is starting to feel like this:
Only without the joke. It’s the certainty, the absolute certainty about things that are completely wrong. Obama’s gonna raise my taxes. Well, no he’s not, and here’s why he’s not, and here’s in fact how much money you’d save in taxes if you make amount X.
But … Obama’s gonna raise my taxes. I know you say and he says that he won’t but it’s a campaign, they all lie, he’ll get into office and he’ll raise my taxes.
I just … OMFG NO, okay? I am not good at talking to people who have no ability to learn things. I am willing to sit and argue with you about how Obama’s tax cut might not work for you, or how his health care plan might be a big change from what you’re used to, but I cannot … the sky isblue even if a Democrat says it is.
If you tell me McCain’s gonna give me a $5,000 tax credit to pay for my health care, I can explain to you in detail that that would not have even begun to cover my surgery last summer, which cost $25,000 not including the pre-surgery way fun ambulance ride and emergency room diagnosis of “let’s give this a whack and see what happens” which was another $6,900 or so. I can argue that that being the most recent case in which I’ve needed health care, not even gettinginto how much my “let’s not be crazy even if Tom Cruise thinks I should be” medicines and doctors are, you can take your $5,000 tax credit and shove it up your privileged, wrinkled ass, but I can’t sit there and say, “He’s not gonna give me a tax credit.”
Am I making sense? It was a rough weekend. It’s a different argument, arguing the adequacy of the policy rather than its existence. Arguing the facts rather than just stuff I think I know, like “John McCain sucks” and “Sarah Palin’s stupid.” Don’t get me wrong, I love those arguments too, I’m a smartass online for a living, being one in real life isn’t exactly a stretch. But arguing with Republicans at this point about what President Obama would actually do for them (orto them, if you wander into the “he’s a secret Muslim” alleys of Crazytown) is like presenting them with a freshly baked apple pie and hearing, instead of “Is that gluten free,” “What an ugly bicycle!”
I don’t know of any other response but the one I’m capable of giving, which is … a long unblinking stare, followed by a burning desire for a grain alcohol IV.