As I passed the front desk on my way into the gym this afternoon--the quest for lean body mass continues--I caught just a snippet of a debate between two of the staff:
FitnessGirl: ...Jefferson. But Jefferson was a slaveholder.
FitnessBoy: Everyone was back then. If you can find anyone from that time who wasn't, I guarantee you they weren't well off.
FitnessGirl: Well, but... Lincoln! Lincoln didn't have slaves!
Um. Well, yes, Lincoln indeed was not a slave owner. Of course, he was also neither of Jefferson's time nor well off until he hooked up with that rich widow Todd, and we know how well that worked out for both of them. Going back to FitnessBoy's original premise about Jefferson's contemporaries, though, maybe John Adams was too obvious an answer? I so wanted to ask them where they went to high school, but the free weights demanded all of my focus.
A more uplifting vignette:
On my way in someplace else, this time Target on Saturday morning, moderately pouting about having to do my errands alone, I passed a young dad with kids in tow, a boy maybe 4 and a girl 5 or 6.
Girl: I know who I'm going to marry!
Dad: Who's that?
Girl: His name's Tar-get! And he likes ponies!
Boo yah. Girl knows where her priorities are.
Who said this?
What does equality really mean? What does it look like? Equality does not exist on a sliding scale.
Or this?
How do you give someone permission to discriminate?
If your answer is "South Africans talking about their parliament's overwhelming vote to permit marriage equality," you are correct. Meaning, of course, that the US now falls behind the Netherlands, Canada, Belgium, Spain, Mexico City, and now South Freaking Africa on civil rights for queer folk. What is the common thread, the heretofore overlooked attribute shared by all these places that produces the perfect medium for evolution in social thinking? Wooden shoes? No. Hockey? Don't think they play hockey in Mexico City, although the smog is probably thick enough to skate on. Trappist beer? No, although it can't hurt. Aztec pyramids? Noooo. Springboks? Shite.
Good luck with your man Target, little girl. You've about as much chance of landing him as I do getting officially down with my woman. And she doesn't even like ponies all that much.
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