Mr. Husband is vigorously opinionated about every conceivable subject, but almost to the point of fanatical when it comes politics. He is also so conservative that he makes Rush Limbaugh sound like one of them tree huggin’ liberals. His main ideology is: Obama is the spawn of Satan.
I’m a democrat. There is no hidden agenda in that statement. I don’t have a log list of specific democratical beliefs. All it means is that, when push, comes to shove, I usually vote the democratic ticket, but not always. Basically a lesser of the evils. I don’t loose any sleep over it or worry about what is going to happen if whoever gets elected.
My mother is just as fanatical as Mr. Husband but she is a Democrat. In contrast to the hub-man, who likes to pontificate from his bark-o-lounger, dear old Mom is as active as she can be in her limited universe. She volunteers at the voting stations, telephones, anything that she can do or get to without driving there. Her philosophy is: Bush is the spawn of Satan.
The first time she came to meet her son-in-law, she was wearing a John Kerry campaign button about the size of a dinner plate. Didn’t ever know they made them that big. Husband and Mom were previously taken aside and threatened with death if either of them instigated a shouting match about politics. They behaved remarkably well. I ended up being the one who had a meltdown over something, don’t remember now what it was.
How do a Republican and a Democrat manage to survive in a marriage? It is not easy let me tell ya. One of the things we bump up again is news programs. He believes it, I don’t. Should be simple. I can survive quite well without listening to the news at all. Seriously, it is easy to do. At the office, it’s impossible to avoid overhearing people talking about the latest overblown disaster or tear jerking tale.
Husband greats me at the door half the time with a juicy news tidbit. “Did you hear about that lady who had her eyebrows blown off in a freak lawnmower accident in Blowvindia?” If it were possible to have a news feed installed directly into his skull he would go for it in a heartbeat. Even better if he gets a good daily dose of the latest hysterical, foaming at the mouth, radio talk show host. Hellfire, brimstone, it’s their fault [insert scapegoat du’ jour here] the world is going to hell in a hand basket. The economy is circling the bowl with such rapidity that it will make the great depression look like a mere blip on the radar. We’re talking famine, pestilence, dogs and cats living together. etcetera, etcetera. ZZzzzz
I like to go all literal on him and pretend to believe what he says. “Really, honey? Oh my God, well what can I do to help? Should I stop buying M&Ms out of the vending machine at work? Should I stand on street corners in dark sunglasses holding out my hat? Just tell me, what should I do?” At this point, he realizes I’m jerking his chain and stomps off in a huff.
Along with the news is a running commentary a la Mystery Science Theatre. If someone on the TV voices an opinion contrary to his, darling husband immediately changes the channel, mid sentence. What I have to wonder though is this. Is his opinion really his? Sometimes he quotes, verbatim, some political rhetoric and genuinely seems to think that it’s something he thought of all by his little lonesome. At times like this I end up staring at him dumfounded thinking, who the hell are you and how did you get in my house?
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