Then it's the blue ones who can't accept the green ones...

To continue the thought I started in my last post:

I used to believe I was a fairly laid back, easy going sort of person who pretty much accepted everyone on their own terms. Sure, there were those I didn't care for or didn't want to be around, but it was always individuals who repelled me. I was not prejudiced against any group. My parents had taught me acceptance and tolerance, and to always base my judgments on an individual's actions and not some group stereotype. I loved everybody, dammit!

I was full of it.

Right to the top.

I'm surprised my hair could turn gray.

I am about as full of baseless prejudices and bigoted opinions as a man can get and not start a religion. I'm not talking about perfectly healthy phobias like the fear of snakes or heights or chainsaws. Those are survival mechanisms designed to keep us from doing something stupid. I'm talking about uncontrollable disgust based on nothing more than an accent, religious belief, or music choice.

First, in no particular order, is the drivers of pick-up trucks. I suppose I picked them first because a couple of my previous posts involved pick-ups. Whenever I see a pick-up truck, especially the over sized types like an F350, Titan or Avalanche, I know the driver is an alcoholic, racist bully overcompensating for secret doubts about his manhood, possibly a Klan member.

The fact that 99%, or more, of these pick-up truck drivers are either family members I care for very much or very nice, considerate people who struggle daily to lead ethical, compassionate lives just doesn't enter into it.

Next there's county music. To me it is the music of choice for the klu klux klan, alcoholics, unaligned bigots, and wife beating illiterates. At its worst it is a neo-Nazi, jingoistic, hate spewing form of pseudo-patriotism that has, for me, no redeeming value.

Again, the fact that I quite like Lyle Lovett, Kathy Mattea, Nickel Creek, Emmy Lou Harris, Willie Nelson and Rosanne Cash is beside the point. Just because the albums "American IV" and "American V" by Johnny Cash have a haunting, devastating beauty is no reason to reconsider my prejudice in the least.

And then there's Southern accents. They are, to me, the verbal proof of illiteracy, probable racism, and sloth. The use of ya'll (yawl—a boat with its mizzen mast set aft of the rudder post) as a second-person pronoun can be all that's needed to make me want to leave the discussion or change the channel on the television.

Okay, so Jimmy Carter has a Southern accent and just happens to be one of the men I admire most. What of it? And just because the last Operations Manager I worked with had an accent that would make Paula Dean ask him to tone it down a little; and was one of the best managers I ever worked with makes no difference.

The point is: even though I am morally and ethically opposed to bigotry I have still managed to develop a fair number of senseless prejudices. Recognizing them, and being able to point out the infinite "exceptions" to my hypocritical dislikes does nothing obviate them. I don't believe this is unique to me, but just because everyone has a secret load of prejudices does nothing to excuse mine. The best I can do is recognize my bigotries, and do my best to allow individuals the chance to either win me over in spite of them, or piss me off for some other reason. It's not the Ideal my parents tried to instill in me, but I like to think that at some level I am applying the lesson and becoming, a little bit at a time, a person they could be proud of.

人をそしる心をすて豆の皮むく
Discarding my wish/To revile someone/I shell peas.
—Housai