I used to think I knew what the Truth is. Even if I couldn’t define it well enough to convince a philosopher, like Justice Potter Stewart in describing pornography, I know Truth when I see it.
There’s hardly any to be seen.
Thank God for the Yankees because I can at least focus on sports rather than the other national pastime of hatred.
To think that the Greatest Generation gave their lives and youth to support the American Value to hate his neighbor!
For a country that purports to aspire to religious ideals, we sure seem to cast a lot of stones even as we dodge quite a few ourselves.
Ironically, I used to complain about this type of behavior at sporting events. God forbid you wear the shirt of the opposing team. Don’t dare cheer for an opposing player. Fans have gotten killed and assaulted for daring to disrespect the home team.
Sure, those incidences have been extremely rare, and at a time when a grammar school kid or high school teenager faces a higher risk of harm than a Red Sox fan in Yankee Stadium, the latter seems almost quaint.
Our most recent example of political hatred is being played out in the Senate as Kavanaugh awaits confirmation. It’s funny to put it that way. Confirmation envisions a ten-year-old in a blue suit with a red bow on his arm. I am sure if you asked him he would rather face the slap of a bishop rather than facing the Democrats.
No matter what happens with his confirmation hatred will continue to inspire. Hatred will, in fact, replace Russian meddling as a topic of debate just as election day approaches.
Supporters of Kavanaugh and his opponents believe they have identified truth.
I wish they would share their technique with me.