Talking religion or, um, politics, poses a great many problems for the conversationally averse. It’s the quiet ones you don’t have to watch, or for that matter, listen to. They don’t say much, they don’t hear much, and, most importantly, they don’t do much. All they do is nod, smile and sigh. They aren’t spouting off about single-payer or the evergreen crises in the Middle East. They don’t have solutions or answers. They have appetizers – small ones wrapped in bacon, perfect for hand-to-hand consumption. They have a bottomless knowledge of toothpicks. They understand, on an almost molecular level, that an ever-widening set of taboos keeps the population in check. The more there is not to talk about, the less there is to worry about. Since it sure works wonders for a public persona.
When you decide to touch a subject that’s as fraught as the big three (religion, politics, sports) you’re leaving a trail of despair in your wake. It’s like touching someone’s wall to assess the paint. Your fingerprints are there, crime or no crime, for all time, and for all to see. Because whatever you’ve done, you’re guilty.
Perhaps, when they’re alone with the radio blasting to drown out any parabolic microphones in the area listening in on their midnight diatribes, they say what they really think. When the blinds are drawn and the lights are off, making it impossible for the surveillance van across the street to peer in, they begin the long process of making sense of the world. They feel loose and comfortable.
Taboos keep everyone in check. The list is long and forever growing. Similarly, you should be able to admire an interior paint job without pressing your thumbs against the wall to determine the finish – eggshell or flat satin. Licking the walls might explain your behavior. You can never be too sure that all the lead is gone.
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