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Friday, November 25, 2016

What You've Lost, and What You're Leaving Behind

When I wrote my last week's missive on my car and first-world problems, I didn't think any more of it. I didn't have even a spark of an idea of what I was writing about this week until a few separate ideas culminated in a topic I'd very much like to discuss.

It's a symptom of a disease that's been eating away at my side of the political spectrum for a while now. It sticks in my craw that my idea of the Left has been the compassionate one, the one that just wants to look out for the little guy even if we have a nasty habit of overreaching in doing so, but since the election with the, my side's more vocal proponents have been showing they care very little indeed for the little guy.

I used to be proud of this.
Over the last few weeks, I've seen one of a few reactions. There are the articles that are clearly sitting down and going "Okay, this is why we lost. Our party is corrupt, and we spent so much time calling everyone sexist and racist and transphobic and misogynist that we alienated a vast majority of voters, and while they may be problematic, we'll never win them over to our side that way."

That's an OK way to think. It acknowledges that there's a problem, and starts a conversation (a genuine conversation, with more than one point of view that goes more than one way -- that's the way conversations work, in case you had other ideas) about how to fix it.

Then there's the crowd that's basically REEEEEEEE END OF THE WORLD RACIST MISOGYNIST WHITE SUPREMACY EVERYWHERE IF YOU POINT OUT SOMETHING POSITIVE YOU'RE SUPPORTING LITERALLY HITLER LOOK AT THIS SWASTIKA AND THESE PEOPLE KILLING THEMSELVES NO IGNORE SNOPES THEY'RE LYING EVEN THOUGH THEY HAVE A BIAS TOWARDS OUR WAY OF THINKING.

That bothers me, but nowhere near as much as this.
Every single one of those is more than a month's rent for me.
It all started the other day, when I posted to a social media feed the ticket prices to Hamilton, and how privileged you must be to be able to afford to see the show. I obviously ruffled a few feathers, as I received a few unkind words in response.

Mere days later, I was greeted with these tweets (I still do not condone the use of Twitter) that perfectly illustrate another topic I have written about. I only know who one of these people are, and that's Francesca Ramsey from MTV's Decoded, who has appeared in my writings before. She's the drill sergeant in the Social Justice Boot Camp.

That's right, Ms. Ramsey and Mr. Kalidi. Some of the people who are boycotting Hamilton (and those of you who are, knock it off. When Mike Pence said people booing him was the sound of freedom, that was possibly the most mature statement I've heard a politician say all year) can't afford tickets. That's because when they go on sale, they're a "reasonable" $200, but then they're gone immediately. Faster than sports games or music concerts. If you want to see Hamilton, the only reliable way to do so is to spend what is, to a lot of people, an entire paycheck for one ticket.

I have no idea if it's any good. I'm sure it's a fantastic musical; my progressive friends won't shut up about it. What I do know is this: I'm a liberal that didn't want Trump for president and I can't afford tickets to Hamilton. To me, seeing Hamilton isn't worth the price of admission, so while I'm not boycotting it, I certainly won't be seeing it, either.

Which brings me to the term "Coastal Elite." If you're not already in one of those major cities in the US that would decide the election alone if we scrapped the Electoral College, you can't see Hamilton, because a) you probably don't make enough money, b) the ticket prices, and c) you have to add the cost of travel and lodging to the price of the tickets. Redundant? I don't care. If you're mocking people for not being able to afford a seven hundred dollar theater ticket, I want you to drink in every redundant word I'm typing here.

The bottom line here is that I'm completely fed up with the natural evolution of the Champagne Socialist and Limousine Liberal, which I dub the Perrier Progressive: the ones with their moralistic heads so far up their own moralistic asses that they can't empathize with the fact that not everyone makes enough money to spend their entire month's rent on seeing a goddamn play.

Until you can realize that, we're not the good guys anymore; we're the ones fiddling while Rome is burning around us, blaming the poor proletariat for all the world's problems. Maybe the fire is the good guy now.

Kiss my broke ass.

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