Fickle: "Changing frequently, especially as regards one's loyalties, interests, or affection."
Being a fickle person isn’t all bad. There are certain
benefits to frequently changing one’s views on life, be they political,
religious, or NFL-related for example. As William Cowper so succinctly put it, “Variety’s
the very spice of life.” When you don’t know what particular god you’ll be worshiping
in the next five years, there’s some edgy apprehension. When there’s a chance
you could become a disciple of Donald Trump before the impeach…within the next
4-8 years, it tends to generate some static electricity. When you know Tom Brady’s
retirement is imminent and you have to start planning which seminal dynastic
bandwagon to jump on, you tend to question your manhood. These “fickalities” as
I’ll call them may sound awful to you and make you wonder “what lunatic could
live like this?” The answer: Me.
There have been studies that suggest (i.e. "many people are saying") fickle people are
weak-minded and lack the moral compass necessary to lead a fulfilling life, a life pleasing and unobtrusive to the other non-fickle/normal people associated with said lunatic. While I
have never been the focus of such a study, I think there may be some merit to
that theory. What else could explain how I so conveniently changed my allegiance from the Dallas Cowboys to the New England Patriots? There
are other theories, however, that suggest the open-mindedness (or, perhaps one could say "genius") of fickle people
allows them to examine arguments and change their course of thought based upon
the evidence before them. For example, there was a time when I, the
left-leaning radical you’ve come to know and love, didn’t support the legal
union of two people who love each other very much…but I got married anyway.
BUH-DUM-TISH! I’LL BE HERE ALL WEEK!
I jest of course as I'm talking about the legal union of two people who love each other very much but who are...GASP...the same gender!!! I certainly wasn’t as
(suspiciously) fixated on same-sex marriage as many conservatives are (i.e. “methinks
the conservative doth protest too much”) but I don’t think you could’ve called
me a supporter of gays or gay marriage back in my care-free "trickle-down economics works for everyone" days. Then, through an act of capriciousness perhaps
brought on by an increase in the number of gay friends or maybe it was just
common sense, I realized that if two dudes (or two chicks) are attracted to each other (because
they’re wired that way and there’s nothing they or Mike Pence can do to change
it), then they should by god be able to get married. Call it fickle but I call it…well,
yeah, it’s fickle but it’s a good fickle.
Conversely, one of the more difficult aspects of being fickle is when it leads you
to question those undeniable truths in life, namely one’s faith. If you know
me, you know that I’ve traveled an irritatingly zealous and capricious path of Christianity; lukewarm
Protestant praise band leader to Super-Duper “Knows more than the Pope” Catholic
to Eastern Orthodoxy to my near conversion to Judaism (see my March 28 entry)
and even a brief foray into Rastafarianism (which ended abruptly when my wife
wouldn’t let me smoke weed.) There was always one constant, though, the Big Man
Himself: Joel Osteen. I’m kidding, of course, it was God. But, when one is
fickle, one must be prepared for the occasional spiritual off-ramp and I
inadvertently took one last summer. Since then, I’ve been mired in the quagmire
of agnosticism. Is He or isn’t He? It’s an awful position to say the least. It’s
not the “cold turkey and cigarettes” assuredness of atheism nor is it the “hot
turkey sandwich smothered in gravy” that is the total submissive faith; it’s a
miasma of ambivalence and ambiguity that results in a phenomenon known as
cognitive dissonance: a fancy term for being mentally uncomfortable ALL THE
TIME because of these incongruent beliefs.
It’s a little like losing your Grandma and now all you have is
Grandpa. When Grandma is alive, you love
to go there for all the warm-and-fuzzies. You walk into Grandma’s house and the
aromatic power of chocolate chip cookies and talcum powder is intoxicating!
There are hugs and kisses and food and stories and more food and love and it’s
awesome. That was Catholicism for me from ’06 to last summer. I absolutely
LOVED it (except for, you know, that whole "sexually abusing children" thing.) The history, the bread and wine, and the whole “being better than
everyone else” part was awesome! The incense at Mass was like a cartoon where
the smell of an apple pie actually picks you up and makes you float towards the
pie. Then Grandma died and all that’s left is grumpy ol’ Grandpa.
Now, when you go to Grandpa’s house, there are no more
cookies, no more stories, no more kisses. When you walk in, you smell Ben-Gay
and farts. When you open the fridge, all you see is a half-empty jar of relish
and some week-old ham. That’s agnosticism: relish, ham, and a fart. No more
warm-and-fuzzy Grandma stuff, just Grandpa. You know that POSSIBLY something
good could come from it, like a barely-palatable relish and ham sandwich and
maybe some flatulence that makes you laugh, but you just don’t know for sure. Being fickle has its
drawbacks.
As for my beloved New England Patriots, yeah, they’ll
probably win the Super Bowl again this
year and it’ll be awesome rubbing everyone’s stupid nose in it but let’s be
real. Tom Brady’s not gonna live forever and I’ve got to start planning for my
next team to follow. I mean who wants to follow the same team for their entire
life?
The ideal scenario is that Brady plays until he’s 50 (which
would be a miracle and solve that whole God question for me) and goes full-gay
and marries George Clooney, putting an end to the divisive issue of same-sex
marriage (except for Mike Huckabee, who’s most likely a closet-gay anyway.) I’m
not going to hold my breath on the G.O.A.T. being that fickle, though. Those
hardcore, steadfast types need to leave the vacillating to experienced fickle bastards
like myself.
Go Chargers!
Thanks for stopping by…
Travis
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