Why Do Republicans Hate Democracy?

In that particular way our self-declared defenders of the Constitution have, they inevitably end up sounding like admirers of dictatorships. Totalitarianism. Authoritarianism. Monarchies.

Or, for you private sector adherents, the boss.

The most recent example comes from our so-called president's chief advisor, Steve Bannon, who reportedly told House Republican on the eve of their failed health care bill “This isn't a debate. You have no choice but to vote for this bill.”

Now, as someone who isn't a right-wing Republican, I probably have my head up my ass. But I thought democracies were all about debate. Choice. The open and unfettered exchange of ideas. The greatest good for the greatest number.

So why is it that Republicans repeatedly express their disdain for democracy? Why do they hate it when we think about what they say, as opposed to instinctively obeying? Why do they hate it when we don't reflexively and unthinkingly line up behind them?

Could it be that when we look at something we see the truth in it? See that it often isn't such a great deal unless our net worth happens to be well into eight-figures?

Why is it that only Democrats seem to understand that if an idea can''t stand up to examination, it probably isn't much of an idea? 

We all need to come to our own conclusions in our own time. But I'll go to my grave believing this is a question worth asking.

Only bullies lead by fear and intimidation. This because they have nothing else.

Pizza Truths

To paraphrase the late Vince Lombardi, pizza isn't life or death. It's bigger than that. And yet, if our so-called president had written The Art of the Pizza instead of The Art of the Deal, he likely would not be our so-called president and as such would be making a tangible contribution to society at large.

Pizza is a lifestyle choice. On a table, it practically qualifies as interior decoration. If I were a realtor, I'd have a succession of pizzas baking during an open house. That sucker (the house—not the pizza) would be gone in minutes! (Although the pizzas would disappear like this year's NU Wildcats fighting for a NCAA tournament bid.)

Pizza is a liar. Its circular shape suggests infinity, something that goes on forever. But as any sauce-smeared pizzaholic can tell you, pizza can and does end.

Dysfunctional people are familiar with something called leftover pizza. Of course, I know nothing of this. Leftover pizza? Isn't that an oxymoron? Leftover pizza is an enigma wrapped in silver foil. Or thoughtlessly left in its cardboard box to wither in the cold, dark recesses of a refrigerator.

Pizza is a big, giant anti-depressant you can share with your friends, without the unintended side-effects or social stigma. I should caution you, however, that like any pharmaceutical, pizza may be habit-forming. 

Best of all, pizza doesn't preclude you from operating heavy machinery.

Like vampires, pizza is ageless. Unlike vampires, a pizza will not suck every last drop of blood from your person. Psychologists attribute vampire's antisocial behavior to an eternity spent in a pizzaless void.

Pizza is ancient, following closely on the discoveries of bread and fire and cheese. Had the Romans not held tomatoes in such misguided contempt and instead used them to embellish pizza, their empire would have lasted longer.

About the same time Persian soldiers were baking early prototypes of pizza on their government-issue shields, the Greek mathematician Pythagoras was theorizing that the Earth was, indeed, round.

Which brings me to the fact that pizza is flat. It is also round, which must be tremendously confounding to the world's flat Earth societies. This is probably the number-one reason they so rarely order it for their banquets.

While it has yet to be proven you can sail off the edge of the Earth, a toy boat can sail off the edge of a pizza.

Beware, Kyrie Irving.