A confederacy of dunces

     Honestly, I have yet to read this book. Years ago, my dear friend Jeff told  me it was one of his favorite books. Yet the title only compelled me to stay  away from it. And when my former co-worker’s book club was reading it, I  quietly began to pass judgment on them. Who’d be drawn to read a book  with such a name this day in age? 

     Yet over and over, I’ve heard of how good this book is. I even read  awhile back about how a movie was supposed to be made with Kate  Hudson and Mos Def in it. And I’d go see just about anything with Mos Def  in it. But such a movie has yet to exist.

    I think I just can’t get past the title. Anything eluding to the Confederacy  always evokes such emotion.

   And without knowing the whole story behind this novel and therefore not  wanting to comment too much about it, it’s the first thing that popped in  my head the other day as I was driving to work. 

Stuck on the expressway behind a slow pickup, I was subjected to stare at the faded images of confederate flags stuck to its bumper. I didn’t want to immediately feel offended and maddened by the strangers packed into this vehicle, but I could help but think of one of my previous posts about these flags and what they represent. Regardless of the intent, such flags are offensive to a group of people, and anyone donning them is indifferent, unsympathetic or just plain racist, I suppose.

And what a world of dunces we live in, I thought to myself, who are just plain ignorant to see such things.

I could help but be baffled when my mother told me yesterday that she saw some woman on the news simply say that she was going to vote for John McCain because she didn’t want to vote for that “black boy.” Seriously? This day in age people can seriously think that way and feel OK about letting the world know that’s exactly how they feel?

I just no longer have any patience for such intolerance and ignorance. 

I know some people just don’t think about such things. Like how I had to explain to one of my co-workers one day how uncool it was to run a picture of random men laying cable and put a headline below them about how many of these workers are illegal immigrants without making it clear that these men in the photo were not necessarily one of them. And how, in the same article, I had to point out that not all illegal immigrants are Hispanic and not all Hispanics hail from Mexico, as the graphic that ran with the story eluded.

But I’ve already gotten weary from pointing such things out. Somedays I feel like I’m fight this battle solo. I just want to escape such ignorance.

I was blessed to grow up with friends of many different cultures, backgrounds, and belief systems. I miss being in such an environment.