Those People

A lady and her daughter or granddaughter are in the store one day haggling over which movies to rent. The daughter selects the case for J. Edgar off the rack and says, “I've heard this is a really good one.”

Mom turns to see what Daughter has chosen and goes into apoplexy. “Absolutely not. I won't have that.” Mom is one of those kinds of people who throws her weight around and insists pretty heavily that her way is the way.

“It's a biopic. I like them and you wouldn't have to watch it.”

At this Mom pulls Daughter in close and starts whispering things to her. The only words Fernando can make out with certainty are “those people” and “dresses,” but despite this he has a pretty good idea as to what sort of content could have set Mom off, considering the (possibly unfounded) rumors involving Mr. Hoover's personal and social life.

In the end Daughter (who's sixteen or seventeen or thereabouts) decides on Super 8, and Mother has no objections to that one. They pay and depart.

Despite the fact that he does not share Mom's opinion about “those people” and “dresses,” Fernando did not interject into the conversation between Mother and Daughter because it's none of his business; as has been said many times before, he's Keeper of the Dominion and not Morality Police of the External World. Nevertheless, he thinks Mom is a close-minded silly billy because Daughter had the right of it: she didn't have to watch the damn movie. The kid's sixteenish. She's adult enough to commandeer a machine capable of murder and while she's probably not particularly wise (we all did absolutely stupid things at sixteen), she's smart enough to form her own opinions.

So what if Mom doesn't like “those people” in the media she consumes? I don't like cheese. I don't go on dumb crusades trying to prevent people who like cheese from having their cheese. If I had, Baldr forbid, a child and that child loved cheese more than anything in the world, I'd let him or her have the damn cheese. I loathe baseball, but if the kid wanted to do little league then little league would be had.

No, it's not a false equivalency between cheese/baseball and the myriad forms of human sexuality and gender identity (let's cut the bullshit surrounding the “those people” euphemism). Can't have it both ways; to the people who believe it's a choice, restricting people's ability to choose with whom they fool around or what style of clothing they wear is just as repugnant as forbidding someone who really really wants to have a pink-on-the-inside steak from having the damn steak. You're not wearing the dress or eating the steak, and fuck whatever moral superiority bullshit you use to justify restricting others from enjoying the things they enjoy. On the flipside, neural physiology is neural physiology whether it's in regards to cheese or sex. People don't choose their likes and dislikes. They simply are, all because our brains send whatever mix of electrical impulses and chemicals rushing through our system when the situation warrants.

So stop it. Just stop. Let people do what they want to do in peace. It's none of my business, none of your business. Rant and rave all you like about the things that people do. Go on a PETA crusade to free all the cute animals if that's what you think is best. But don't impede anyone from visiting KFC. Don't stop someone from seeing a movie which nobody is forcing you to see! That crosses the line from opinionated bullshit ranting (-cough-) into being an asshole.