When you’re a white guy from the South with a Southern accent, a pickup truck, a shotgun and two — count ’em, two — Lynyrd Skynyrd t-shirts, folks around here assume you’re a Republican. They assume you’re a genuine, Obama-birth-certificate-doutin’, Hillary hatin’, Fox News lovin’, Trump-worshippin’ right-winger.

Well, I ain’t. I mean, I’m not. I buck that stereotype in these here parts. The thing about most stereotypes, though, is that they often are generally true. Most of the folks I know around here who fit that description are indeed right-wingers — some to the point of wearing a Q shirt and mumbling “lock her up” in their sleep.

The conservatives I know think I’m a Democrat. I ain’t. I mainly vote that way right now because I think the GOP has fallen down a hole while chasing a crazed orange rabbit. I consider myself an independent with my views ranging from left to right and averaging somewhere in the middle — which, granted, is a mighty lonely place these days. It’s hard to get folks fired up about moderation:

What do we want?!
Moderation!
When do we want it?!
At a reasonable juncture when it will effect necessary positive outcomes across a vast spectrum of interests and needs in a prudent fashion!
What do we … I’m sorry … what?

“Ha! You ain’t no moderate!” I can hear my right-wing friends saying. Not on every issue, no, but on some. And take that gun out of your mouth, Gomer.

So, where do I stray from some liberals? Well, here are a few areas: Continue reading