Brave New World

One day I hope to own a new car.

Well not a new car, of course—that would be crazy, do you know how expensive those things are?—but one that is new to me. And, I must confess, one that is a little bit on the newer side of new as well. Not too new, mind you, just newer than any car I’ve ever owned before. Like maybe one that was made in the decade previous to the one I am currently living in. Not one that was made in the decade I am living in—no need to aim for the stars, after all—but the decade previous. That’s all I ask. But until that day comes to pass I will have to be content with having a car from the decade before the decade before. Which means that my stereo system will continue to be practically prehistoric. If stereos wore clothes, mine would be sporting a handlebar mustache, a hoop skirt and a bustle. (Yes, all at the same time. And no, not in a hipster-y way.) I’m serious: my stereo has no ipod jack, no CD player—even my tape deck gave up the ghost a while ago (which is probably for the best: there’s only so may times you can show up somewhere humming 80s songs—which are the only music anyone owns on cassette tapes—before people start to wonder about you).

In fact, the only part of my stereo that still works is the radio, which explains why it was that I was hurtling down the interstate last weekend hitting the scan button every few seconds in an effort to find something that was not either Top 40 or Norteno music. And also explains how I happened to land on a station that was not at all what it seemed.

In my defense, I thought it was NPR. At first it really could have been NPR: a reasonable sounding man, with a reasonable sounding voice was explaining how it was possible for gays to become accepted in mainstream society. “First,” he said, they need to be recognized as average members of society—your neighbors, and teachers, and friends.” Yeah, I thought to myself, that sounds right. “Then,” he continued, “the people who are prejudiced towards gays need to be shunned as bigots and intolerant jerks.” Yep. “And finally, gays need to accepted into every facet of modern life.” Okay. Yeah. That sounds reasonable.

Then he came to the next part. “And that, my friends, is exactly how the Chinese brainwash you. And how the devil gets you.”

Wait, what?

At that point I couldn’t turn the dial fast enough, and I didn’t even care that the next thing I heard was the thrilling sounds of accordion, bass, and Spanish lyrics.

What the hell is wrong with people? I thought morosely. And my morose thoughts continued all the way until I got to my destination, which was a cabin on the banks of Oak Creek. But then when I got there those thoughts evaporated, because waiting for me were my children and some of their friends. And when I told them the story of the evil Chinese/Satanic plot to to sneakily assimilate gays into our culture they weren’t upset, they were just confused—confused that there was anyone left who still made a big deal about other peoples’ sexuality.

And that’s when I realized that my stereo wasn’t the only thing that was was out-dated. And that not only will it soon become nearly impossible to find a car that doesn’t have at the very least a CD player, it will also be nearly impossible to find someone who is isn’t at the very least minimally tolerant.

And, hopefully, someone who can explain to me why anyone would ever need four different Norteno stations on the same radio dial.

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