Walking
home from work the other day, I found myself in a familiar neighborhood.
Memoirs of Baker Street surfaced in my head and I thought of my friend Sherlock
Holmes in a somewhat melancholic manner as if I've missed him. I had been
quite busy with my practice lately and I hadn’t seen much of him; but, since I
was in the neighborhood, I decided to go see him.
I
marched up those familiar stairs and without knocking I opened the door of the
studio apartment I once called home. Instantly, I was welcomed by a thick cloud
of smoke.
“I
thought you quit,” said I, with a slightly disappointed tone.
“My
dear friend,” said he, jumping from his seat with the pipe still in his hand.
“What brings you here? Not that I am not glad to see you, but ever since your
married, and your new practice, I haven’t seen much of you.”
“I
was in the neighborhood and I wanted to see you,” said I. “How has the greatest
detective in the world been lately?”
“Not
well Watson, not well indeed,” said he, and crashed back into his chair, as if
his knees had abandoned him. “I haven’t left this flat in days. Ever
since my visit to Florida I haven’t been able to eat or sleep.”
“I
can see that, you look horrendous.”
“Cocaine,
Indian tobacco, and the occasional opium hit have been my only satisfactions,
Watson. I can’t seem to shake this sensation.”
“What
sensation? Florida? You mean to tell me…”
“Yes
my dear Watson, I did it,” said he, putting his head between his hands. “I went
to the Republican Convention!”
“What
possessed you to do something like this? You get hives simply by watching FOX
news.”
“I
am working on the most difficult case yet, Watson!”
“A
murder then?”
“Worse!”
”What
can be worse than that?”
“Let
me ask you a question, Watson,” said he, with elbows on his knees and
fingertips together. “Do you think I am
a good detective?”
“I
think you are a brilliant detective, the best there is.”
“Then
why is it that I can’t solve one of the cases that has haunted me for years?”
“Which
case is it? I can’t say I recollect what you are speaking of.”
“Republicans,
Watson!”
“I
don’t understand.”
“It
is quite simple really: Why does anyone vote republican? Why do they belong to
the party? Moreover, why would anyone in their right mind support Mitt Romney?”
I
sat down in the chair opposite to his and we both pondered in our own thoughts
for a while. I stayed motionless; however, Holmes kept twitching in his
seat. His pipe was firmly in his mouth and his eyes kept moving from side to
side as he babbled between his teeth as a crazy person would. I was resolute
not to say a word until he did, even if it took all night. Not thirty minutes
passed, although it seemed like a lifetime, before he spoke.
“Let
me tell you a story, Watson,” said he with a depressed look on his face as he
offered me a pipe and some of his finest Indian tobacco.”
I
bowed my head, in acceptance to both his pipe and this narrative.
“I
like to think of myself as a remarkable man, one that can see all sorts of
views and opinions; a man that can think like a detective as well as a criminal.
This, combined with my undoubtedly remarkable deducing capability, has made me
one of the greatest minds this world has ever seen. Wouldn’t you say?”
“Modest
as well,” said I, smirking underneath my smile.
“Ahh
my dearest friend… for the longest time I have found myself trying to
understand and think like a republican to no avail. There are a few points
which I can’t seem to grasp my mind around. For example: there are these
people; regular, law abiding people; yet their ideology is so far from reality.
They support a party constructed on the idealism that the economy works best
from the upper class down, rather than from the middle class up. A party that
believes that deregulation and fewer taxes for the rich will bring prosperity,
despite of colossal failure to that ideology in the past. A party that
wants to tell a woman when, where, and what to do with her body, except in the
cases of legitimate rape, of course, in which case she can’t get pregnant in
the first place. But what makes me cry, Watson, is the fact that this party
accepts no one but people that look, feel and believe in the same ideas as
them. Besides their fondness for the NRA and the 4th amendment
I find absolutely nothing appealing about this party’s platform, Watson, and I
can’t understand why anyone would! They are against immigration, because
we all know that all republicans came aboard of the Mayflower; against equal
rights for all, regardless of sex, gender, or sexual preference; and not to
mention the guy they have running for office… It seems to me, dear Watson
that America is going through an internal war.”
“War?
Isn’t that a bit of an overstatement?”
“I
might have chosen the wrong words Watson, but my underlying point remains ever
so valid. An internal war, Watson! It is a war of ideologies and philosophies
regarding the best way to run a county. On one hand, you have the 2% of
the country earning more than 250 thousand dollars, with the top 1 % making way
more than that and running the country in the process. And you have the
remaining 51% that everyone pretends to care about.
“That
would be 53%, Holmes, what about the rest”
“That
is it, Watson, that is the problem: there
are 47 percent who are dependent upon government; who believe that they are
victims; who believe the government has a responsibility to care for them; who
believe that they are entitled to health care, to food, to housing, to
you-name-it. That’s entitlement! And
unless you are white, male, born in the USA, (preferably in the heartland,)
heterosexual, rich and powerful in America, you are not entitled to anything.”
“A puzzler indeed, Holmes! Not to say that I have given much
thought regarding this in the past. Have you come to any conclusion to the why?
Why is the Republican Party thinking and behaving this way; additionally, why do
some American outside of the rich and powerful continue to support such
one-sided agenda as you put it? ”
“I have eliminated every other possibility, Watson, and I
reason I have come up with the best possible solution; although the truth may
never be known.”
With a quick push he jumped off his seat and, after adding a
log to the fire, started pacing up and down the room. His right hand by
the pipe in his mouth, while the other firm in his pocket.
“Fear, Watson!”
I nodded my head as to pretend to know what he was talking
about but when in reality I was puzzled and had no idea how he made that giant
leap. Although my look might have deceived me because he continued…!
“Let me explain, Watson,” said he, staring down at me. “You
seem confused.”
“The Republican Party is mainly supported by the white
population. Is it not?”
“Perhaps.”
“The Republican Party has moved further Right in recent years
with the help of the Tea Party. Has it not?”
“Sure.”
“Well my dear Watson, you can’t possibly think that is a
coincidence that the shift to the right of the party coincides with the fact
that the whites are no longer a majority in the United States. The Republican
Party has become more and more conservative with pressure from the Tea Party of
course, while contributing all their problems to immigrants, gays, women, and
everything else that is not from the aforementioned class.”
For the first time since Holmes started talking he was making
sense, and I was finally able to follow his train of thought. His ideas were
always a little eccentric but in the end he was always right.
“Why do you think that is, Holmes, this fear?”
“In a bizarre way of thinking, Watson, supporters of the
Republican Party as well Tea Party supporters, believe that there is a finite
amount of freedom and rights in this world; therefore, if more people have it,
there would be less to go around for them. They, perhaps believe, that by
allowing everyone to get married to whom they love, their own heterosexual
marriages will somehow become less valid. A dreamer getting an American
passport will somehow lower its quality and if a woman truly reaches equality
then men will become second class. The white man in America has seen his power
fade and they are afraid to relinquish the little control that they do have,
Watson. Why else equal rights for all would not be appealing to them, after all
isn’t that what the Constitution says?! That’s the problem with fear,
Watson: it makes people peculiar; it draws boundaries around their world.
With that, he slowly
walked to his chair and faintly sat down as to not disturb his own
thoughts. He put his head back and lastly closed his eyes. I think for
the first time in weeks he was finally calm and the burden had been lifted from
his shoulders. I got up slowly, covered him with a blanket, and softly closed
the door behind me.
Two typos... spelled Tea Party wrong
ReplyDelete"Team Party" "Tae Party"
Thank you, Freud would be proud. What are the chances me messing up the same word twice?!
ReplyDeleteBellissimo questo racconto, arguto e molto ben scritto!
ReplyDeleteSei veramente brava!
Un bacione grande.