Exit the Old…

Nine thirty.

Bitterly, I just thought of my stupid sister and her monstrous son, and how they will probably vote this fall. The best I can do is avoid talking with them. I can’t believe how stubborn they are, how entrenched in old fashioned beliefs. I’m simply not responsible for what they do. If I ever get around to making a will, they are entirely excluded. Closed minds don’t deserve a piece of me. Now Polly is trying to say that beliefs don’t matter. Baloney! Of course they matter! What you believe is what you are. My family is a bunch of Skinheads. There are a lot more of them who go to Serenity Lane, the so-called treatment program for chemical addiction. All they do is brainwash you with Republican ideas, referring to them as your “culture.” It’s just an excuse for ethnocentrism.

Ten forty. I stopped by and said hi to Karen. Sort of sorry I did. She was spouting some pro racist stuff that I couldn’t agree with. So I didn’t stay very long. Everybody has an opinion. Even ignorant people do. I think it’s a symptom of Oregon life, all the racism and bigotry. Old people here go on and on about what a hero Theodore Roosevelt was. Ugh. Henry James called him a jingo, and it was probably true. I’m very tired of these old sticks in the mud who resist progress. Why do they want to conserve old politics that never worked very well in the first place? The young ought to have the strongest voice, particularly on issues of equality and justice. The old need to move aside and make way for the young… Victoria passed me on the street as I was coming home. She was jogging. So young, she makes me feel old, yet inspired with confidence that the future is in good hands.

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