As election year begins, I have resolved not to talk politics with idiots, assholes or fans of Donald Trump. Is there a way to shut down such conversations politely? I want to stay friendly with the neighbors, even if they are brainwashed.
—Liz in Vantucky
What's not to like about Trump? He's proved once and for all that racism and xenophobia are the glue that holds the GOP together, he's exposed the party's most toxic elements, and he's doing his best to march the whole shebang off an electoral cliff. He's basically the pied piper of assholes, and in that I wish him nothing but success.
I admit, however, that sharing this insight with your Trump-loving neighbor probably won't engender the sort of over-the-hedge collegiality you're hoping to achieve.
You could just say, "I don't want to talk about this," but as anyone who's been in a relationship can tell you, that doesn't always come off as a neutral statement (even if you don't add the implied "…especially not with you.").
Experts in etiquette (on some subjects, even I have to defer) generally suggest deftly changing the subject. People are more easily distractible than you'd think, and that probably goes double for the fascinated-by-shiny-objects crowd you're describing.
Others suggest wearing earphones when you know you'll be seeing a hard-to-avoid blowhard. (To those who've recently noticed that everyone seems to be wearing earphones these days: I've got bad news for you.) If they ask what you're listening to, just say "the Bible," or "porn," or—in the most stubborn cases—"Bible porn."
Failing all that, you could just move to inner Portland, where Republicans are as rare as leprechauns. (If you catch one, he has to give you his 401(k)!) Here, even rich people who sneer at the disenfranchised still identify as members of the political left, based entirely on lifestyle choices: "I just defeated a low-income housing project in my neighborhood, but as you can see, I'm drinking cashew milk. Also, I have this yoga mat. Feel the Bern!"
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Willamette Week