It’s that time again for me to realize that I’m a freak. Public spaces of all kinds are full of the differences among the various contenders for the Republican nomination for the presidency. If I could arrive at those differences, I might feel some measure of progress toward communal discussion. As it is, I’m too far behind even to think about them….

In a way, it’s none of my business. I’m not a Republican. I’m what polling-people call an Independent, which means that I have to look at Republican doings as well as the Democrats’ doings. At this point, however, I am only certain that I will not vote for the Democratic candidate. But, unless we are personally voting in the caucuses right now, are we supposed to be “choosing” a candidate at all? At the moment, I’d say that one of the contenders seems to me to be the best man; another seems to be the best candidate; and still another would, I think, make the best president.

Speeches by the contenders and their sundry spokespersons don’t help: One praises character, another praises voting records, another asserts the contender’s ability to wage verbal war against Obama, and there are still other “qualifications” to consider. The trouble is that one thing—character, for example—cannot be compared to another—ability to wage verbal war, for example. That’s apples and oranges, and even grapefruit—yet opposing contenders and all the commentary constantly engage in just that kind of illogical argument. And then there are the endless in-depth analyses, difficult even to follow, much less find (or not) some accord with. Philosophical disputations, ideological condemnations of ideology…. It makes me wonder sometimes if there’s a deliberate conspiracy to confuse. But that would probably make me just another “Paranoid.” There are Republicans who believe in Democratic conspiracies, and Democrats who believe in Republican conspiracies. Perhaps as an Independent, I believe in political conspiracies, period. 

Finally, amidst all the noise (which will only get louder), I turn the volume off altogether. I don’t like politics. I’ve never been a fan, never been into competition anyway, never participated in it willingly, much less with enthusiasm. People who get into that stuff like to call people who don’t get into it (like me) a number of names: cowardly, irresponsible, selfish, and even stupid. They may be right. But if I am any one of these, or all of them, I am not unique—at least, I don’t think so. I believe there are other people like me who don’t enjoy blood sports. Perhaps, like me, they don’t vote for anyone. I didn’t vote for George Bush; I voted against John Kerry. I didn’t vote for McCain; I voted against Obama. Political participation for us comes down to a kind of morally obligatory defense of ourselves and other Americans….

So—until the time comes when I, personally, have to make some kind of choice, I don’t listen to the illogical, pseudo-patriotic, passionate, and very expensive racket. (Think about what all this stuff costs. Don’t we have better ways to spend all those millions? One day’s campaigning for one contender could probably feed a thousand families for a year. Or maybe even reduce the national debt.)

When the time does come to make a personal choice, I will not assess anyone’s patriotism, evaluate their debating skills, inquire into their religious faith (or lack of it), calculate how much money they have behind them, consider how many supporters they have—none of that. (The very last thing I would ever have voted for is something called “change.” Talk about bandwagon mentality—that’s almost comic-strip stuff.) Because I have a vote, for that moment only, I have power.  I am a boss, as it were, interviewing applicants for an opening, and I will look at what the position requires and try to choose the best applicant for the job. For me, and for others like me, it’s that unphilosophical, that unemotional, that inexpensive, that ordinary.