What in the world possessed Maureen Down to write so derisively about her family?
Look, I can understand her holding a good half of the country in comtempt, but her family? Her Parents?? And yet she goes home to them on the Holidays before basically calling them illiterate racist Fundamentalist rubes from her international soapbox.
Hell, were I any of them, I’d very pointedly disinvite her from the next family get-together. I seriously doubt they will, though. That’s just how family is, especially in Red State America.
There are moments – when my brothers are sharing some snarky thing Rush Limbaugh said about me, or the latest bon mot from Pat Buchanan, with whom they grew up – that I’m tempted to stuff my ears with my mom’s potato stuffing, or go off and read a book by David Sedaris about normal family life.
What “normal family life”? Like, say, the one where everyone agrees with you all the time? And because they’re on the right-hand side of the political spectrum, they deserve to be treated like lunkheads and not “normal”?
But, were I her, I’d be asking myself how I fell so far from the tree, not pining for some supportive reading material and a double-handfull of earplugs.