Thread by @adamfelber

Ohmygod. Arguing with a conservative can be like having sex with someone who is really bad at sex. Everything is a clumsy and halfhearted bridge between the one or two things they actually know how to do. (1/x)

I mean, what’s the point of carefully constructing an argument when you know that all they’re looking for is a pathway to shouting “Venezuela!” or “Benghazi!” or “Eventually you run out of other people’s money!”

It’s those damn platitudes. Like some past-it preacher who’s basically reading news clippings on his way to that quote from Ephesians that everybody likes. And then collect some nods and applause and congratulations - it’s another Sunday in the books, Pastor Kevin!

It’s just accepted now that no debate about healthcare is going to be about healthcare. Because a liberal can construct every detailed argument they like... the reply is going to be “No, because liberty, socialism, rationing, VENEZUELA!” [applause!]

(Actually, you’re lucky if you get a side order of “rationing.” It’s almost relevant!)

So I dated this woman once whose special move was this kinda awkward squatting/gyrating move. [Sorry to be so specific. Unless you dig that, in which case, you’re welcome!]

The first time she did it, I was like, “Okay, this is interesting!”

It was like unlocking a new character in a fighting videogame. At first you’re just kinda fascinated by their Special Move, so you don’t even think about whether it’s good or not.

But by like the 10th time she did it, I started to feel bad about it. Because it was obviously a lot of effort, and it didn’t seem like a ton of fun for her except as something that was notionally really awesome for ME. Which it wasn’t.

But of course I didn’t say anything, because I knew that was something she thought I liked. And hey, it’s not like I’m that great. We all have our go-tos.

But we weren’t really communicating. Whatever I might do, we were going to get to that Move.

I began to dread that Move. Because I knew it was coming and I knew I’d have to pretend to enjoy it. When in fact she might as well have been shouting “Venezuela!”

I never told her. The closest I got was saying, one time, “Wow, that must be really tough on your hamstrings.” I swear to god. I was that lame.

She said she didn’t mind. That it was worth it. And on we went...

The Move became frustrating. I felt dishonest. And no matter how creative I got, no matter what I tried, everything was just a bridge to Venezuela. Which, as I said, wasn’t satisfying for anyone.

And that’s exactly how I felt earlier today, arguing about healthcare.