Red State Blues

I live in Vermont, a state so blue that even the Indigo Girls look faded when they come through here . I’m comfortable with it, but I found that I was equally comfortable for the twenty-five years I lived in Alaska, which is as red as a fisherman’s neck. So, what does this say about me? Do I have the political and cultural equivalent of gender confusion? The only way to know for sure is to look at some facts.

One thing I’ve noticed over the years is that I like the potato salad better in the red states. They use more bacon, and while I appreciate that, this doesn’t change my views on Social Security privatization. At least not much.

The coffee is definitely better in blue states. When you order coffee in the reds they ask if you want regular or decaf. Ask for coffee in a blue and they will offer you Ethiopian blend, Guatemalan roast, or Kona gold. Although I’ll admit I haven’t lived in a Blue state long enough to tell them apart.

At almost any Red State restaurant you can get French dressing for your salad. I like French dressing. It is cheap and tangy and there is nothing like it in Blue states where honey vinaigrette is as common as table salt. If you ask for French dressing in a honey vinaigrette kind of place they will look at you as if you are, well, from a Red State.

Red State people gleefully drive big, dumb, ugly trucks, SUV's, and cars with oversized trunks. I think they do this because it reminds them they are Americans and can afford to waste. Blue state people drive Volvos and Saabs because they are unreliable and expensive to fix and it reminds them of our health care system.

I drive a big dumb ugly truck around my blue state, but I don’t feel that guilty about it because it is not an American model. Actually, it was assembled in Indiana from parts made in Mexico by people who report to Tokyo, but I can’t remember if I’m for that or against it.

Red state people are happier than blue state people. This is because they listen to country music that is forever telling them they live in a great nation and that things could be worse and probably were and if you stand by your man and remember what daddy used to say and love your mama that in the end Dale Earnhardt shall not have died in vein so long as Old Glory waves, Budweiser remains the King of Beers, and forced metaphors about rivers, trains and cowboys remain a part of our First Amendment rights.

Blue State people, on the other hand, chase their Zoloft down with iced chai while they listen to twelve hours a day of public radio programming which ceaselessly and thoughtfully points out in genteel and condescending tones that we are all pretty much screwed.

I can’t sign onto either one for the long haul. Too much well researched reporting of world events and in-depth conversations about the origins of folk music and I get NPR poisoning. I feel blue. Which may explain something, come to think of it.

If I switch over to the country or pop commercial stations my spirits rise but my IQ takes a beating. Once, after a two day country music radio vacation, I forgot what was absurd about the Hummer.

So you see, it can be dangerous living on this thin purple line between the red and the blue. And I’ve been hearing lately that I’m not alone. The new thinking among people who are paid to think about such things is that while our political parties may be more polarized than ever -- and on election day we all have to declare ourselves red or blue -- for the most part the rest of us are where we’ve always been – all mixed up together in the middle. If my experience is any measure, “mixed-up” would be the operative phrase.

as heard on XM Radio's Bob Edwards' Show
August 10, 2005
www.xmradio.com