Politically Homeless, What to Do?

Straight-Up With A Twist

By Edwin Decker

Dear Readers, since I started writing this “advice” column, I have received a few questions with something in common. They all used some variation of the phrase, “Politically homeless.” By this they meant that, while they have maintained the same political worldview they have always had, they feel that their chosen party has changed its perspective to such a degree that they could no longer relate to it.

What’s interesting is that these queries have come from all sides of the political fence: democrats and republicans; conservatives and liberals; furries and fleshies. And they have all effectively said the same thing: “I refuse to join the opposition party, but can no longer support my current one. What to do, what to do?”

Initially, I hadn’t planned on responding, but after receiving several of these messages, I have decided to answer them in bulk.

Dear Politically Homeless People (PHP), you are not without a home. You still have a roof over your head but you’re just not sharing it anymore. A better way to describe your situation is that you are politically dorm-less, by which I mean that you are no longer part of a political collective to which you may have felt ideologically beholden.

Isn’t it better to approach each issue on its own merits, no matter what your “dorm” thinks about it? I’ve always identified as liberal but have some ideas that do not align with the liberal ethos. Should I change those views because of it? Hell to the no, bro. My opinions are my own, group dynamics be damned.

“What to do?” you ask? Well, nothing, except be content as a collective of one. I am. So much so that I have given it a name. It’s called the, “I-Have-My-Own-Views-and-Couldn’t-Give-a-Goddamn-If-The-Party-With-Which-I-Typically-Align-Disagrees” party. I am the only person in this consortium because, after the smoke clears and all the blood is mopped off a Quentin Tarantino set, it should be obvious that nobody agrees on everything. We’re like opinion snowflakes, also known as individuals, and that’s how I like it.

So, fret not, PHP, you have a home. It’s in an exotic villa called, “I Have My Own Ideas,” overlooking, “The Bay of Beholden to Nobody,” from the cliffs of, “Blow Me if You Don’t Like it.”

Dear SWAT, I was hanging out with a woman I met in a bar during a business trip to Sacramento. “Lisa” and I were having a great time drinking ourselves silly until about midnight when we stepped outside and said our goodbyes. She was very, very drunk but, to my dismay, got into her car. I ran over to her open window and begged her not to drive but she was adamant. I told her I would call an Uber, or walk her home, anything to keep her from driving.

After many minutes of pleading, she sped off. I have no idea if she made it home and still worry if she hurt herself or someone else. I wonder if I could have been more proactive? Should I have tried to grab the keys out of the ignition, or drag her out of the car? How would you have handled it?

Alan N. from National City

Dear Alan, I get where you’re coming from but no, you should not have done anything physical to stop her. That is a recipe for disaster. Who knows to what that would have lead; maybe a kerfuffle on the asphalt ending with a sharpened emery board plunged into your ear, or worse, assault charges. Especially – given that she is a woman, and you are (presumably) a man – doing anything physical could easily end up with you in cuffs in the back of a cruiser.

I mean, sure, if it’s a buddy – someone you know well – go ahead and duke it out. Drag him from the car, pin him down and tickle his balls till he says “Druncle.” But physically engaging with a mostly unknown, intoxicated person of the opposite sex? That could get ugly fast. In the end, after all the pea soup is mopped off The Exorcist set, you can’t save everyone. You did your best and the rest is out of your hands. Sleep easy my friend, you done good.

Straight up With a Twist Drinking Tip of the Month

This is for the men. Do not, under any circumstances, send a woman a drink anonymously.

What do you think she will infer when the bartender plops down the cocktail and says, “This is from someone who doesn’t want you to know who he is”?

Will she take that to mean that some level-headed, hot guy with a bulging bank account is sweetly admiring her from afar?

Or will she imagine some creepy, doubly-divorced, halitosis slob sitting in a dark corner thinking, I’m watching you, and I will keep on watching you until the end of time?

On the other hand, if you’re a woman wanting to send drinks to men, knock yourself out.

Edwin Decker (of Ocean Beach) is not a licensed therapist or psychologist. In fact, his only qualification is the 25-plus years as a bartender listening to the liver-aching of desperados and dipsomaniacs. Heed his advice at your peril.

Send questions to ed@edwindecker.com