White like me...or… Strange Encounters of the Facebook Kind

So, on January 6, 2021, I finished the morning early. I slipped into my office to see something I’d never seen before, the certification of U. S. Presidential election results (I’ve been kind of a political nerd ever since early elementary school and seeing JFK sworn in on a bone-chilling January day in 1961.)

First, I checked a select dental chatroom of which I’m a proud member. One of my friends indicated there was a riot going on at the Capitol. I went to CNN and saw a mob. And it isn’t every day I stream morning TV and windup trembling and shedding a few tears in anger. My chatroom comment was “Domestic terrorists.”

My remark prompted a response decrying my “f**king liberal politics,” imploring me to keep them to myself. I remembered Shakespeare while considering the sketchy quality of the source. I explained protesting insurrection isn’t about politics; it’s about our Republic’s survival and patriotism.

Back in 2016, I wrote a column where I tried to understand educated colleagues and the folly of their support of an obviously unsuited presidential aspirant. Over four years later, I’m still wondering.

White like me...or… Strange Encounters of the Facebook Kind

Maybe you’re like me when you’re watching 5-hours of televised golf at a time. Last weekend, between the drives and putts at Royal Troon, being a total couch spectator left me plenty of time for social media engagement. And with the big Republican convention on the horizon, some of my Least Coast DDS-type natives were just a little restless.

So seemingly the only practical demographic supporting the Republican presidential nominee as he goosesteps into November is old white guys (and some of their misguided spouses.)

And based on the candidate’s ramblings, you’d think you could further narrow it down to white guys who prefer the simplicity of basic white hooded robes as the coolest thing in rural eveningwear.

But even though most of those frustrated aging Caucasian types showing up in the polls are Christian, very few could probably tell you the difference between Christian charity, the Stars and Bars, and a 6-pack.

These white guys complain that no one speaks to them or their concerns; it’s like they’ve been left behind. Just so happens their exasperation has peaked while the U.S. leader is the first Black President (not when the whole country almost went el busto eight years ago.) And what’s next…the first woman President? Really?

I’m not sayin’, I’m just sayin’.

And who better to serve the wounded Anglo male psyche than a guy who was born on third base and thinks he hit a triple. Or a guy who worships himself and hates just about anyone and everything else. Or a guy who has basically attempted hosing everyone with whom he’s ever struck a deal. Maybe PT Barnum really did know what he was talking about?

And it’s one thing if you’re some poor ole rube living in the middle of nowhere. But what if you’ve had eight years of college and you’ve even earned a title…and you’re one of my freakin’ colleagues?

I have to admit, even without one of the four majors comin’ straight outta Scotland, I do entertain myself during lunch by antagonizing some of my wayward, going on way nuts molar jockey brethren.

These guys are awesome dentists, progressive providers, and hard workers. But I guess we all have our own “unique” qualities. Hey! I know people who actually collect duct tape art and cigar bands. One of my co-workers collects wine corks. Shucks, I used to collect baseball cards.

So maybe some of my disillusioned old white guy colleagues are just too sensitive…sort of like Johnny Ringo in Tombstone. Could be these delicate souls fantasize about being part of the lucky 1% or perhaps they’re troubled that dentists are seven-times the national average more likely to commit suicide.

And just like when I used to look for Willie Mays rookie cards, maybe collecting "unique" candidates just makes some of my fellow DDS-types feel a little better about themselves.