The Great Debate(s)

Something about the current presidential race has me riveted. It’s drawn me in and forced me to examine how I go about my regular activities. Lately I can’t help but incorporate the essence of the race, from both sides of the line, into my everyday activities.

For instance, when gas jumped up by 10 cents this week, I went inside the nearest station and debated with the gentleman behind the counter as to why he raised the price per gallon. He babbled on about the cost of petroleum, supply and demand, his need to stay competitive in the marketplace, the effect of local gas taxes and other completely unfounded arguments. I told him that, “Raising the price of gas is uncool, man.”

I walked out of there with my head held high knowing I had bested him in our showdown.

I didn’t fair as well in my next round, though, when I debated with local law enforcement over whether or not the light was red. Although in my defense, I don’t recall any of the presidential nominees being allowed to use mace while trying to make their points (not that I would be against this).

I spent an afternoon actually debating with myself over whether or not to go to work. When I arrived at the office at 4:30 p.m., having decided that ‘yes’ was the winning answer, my boss engaged me in a debate on whether or not I should keep my job. So much for gratitude.

When kids came to my door one evening last week begging for candy, I debated with them on why they deserved something for free that I (by which I mean my wife) had paid for. Turns out their bags of flaming dog poo proved to be pretty convincing.

I even had to debate with my wife over watching the latest round of the debates. Lost that one too.

Over the last few days I’ve debated the necessity of the New York Jets, Ryan Seacrest, eggplant, rice cakes, FOX News, televised radio programs, Rush Hour III, the Secretary of the Interior, Diet Mountain Dew and the LPGA.

After a while, my track record in all these debates was leaving me pretty deflated. Plus, constantly constructing and deconstructing my portable podium was awfully tiring. So, I decided to curtail my debating habit.

I decided to give it one more shot when I debated with my seven-month-old son over why he should go back to sleep at 1 a.m. the other night, but every time I tried to make a point, he only shook his fists, cried louder and generally threw a fit.

“Son,” I told him, “you’ve got a future in politics.”

So to all of you who are thinking, “Mike, you should spend less time debating and more time sharing your brilliant musings with the world,” my only response is “Brilliant? That’s debatable.”