Let's say, just hypothetically, that you're a bored middle-aged white man in a long-term relationship with a major political party. How do I know you're white? Well, I know the party, and I know the kind of guys it's into. You definitely fit a type. Believe me.
Anyway, you two have been together for years, and you're just not getting your needs met. That's what you tell people. It's definitely what you tell yourself.
You want some excitement.
At first you try to make it work with this party. You try to spice things up.
"Tonight..." you whisper to it. "Can we be racist? We used to be racist all the time. We were sooo racist together."
It's true. You and this political party used to be completely, openly racist, and it was kind of a turn-on for you. You have decades of memories of saying and doing the most depraved, hot, sick, hideous stuff together. Now, everything has to be sanitized and safe and boring. Some coded language. Some redistricting. Maybe you pass a few voter ID laws. It's not that you're in a real dry spell. No one thinks that. You're still completely racist. But damnit, the racism is always with the lights off.
So you see an ad, and you respond. You start getting involved - fill out an online form and give your information. You tell a select group of people on Facebook about what you're doing.
Maybe loyalty crosses your mind. Maybe. On some level you know what you're doing could destroy the relationship you have with this political party. And that party might not ever recover. But you find that you don't care.
"The party hasn't been responding to me for a long, long time," you tell yourself. "I have a right to be happy." And what makes you most happy - let's admit it - is not limited government or some crap about capital gains tax. It's the racism. Yes. That's what always really pushed your buttons.
That guy on TV - the way he talks about Mexicans. Jesus, it's exciting. You used to talk about Mexicans that way - right out in public like that. This new thing promises to make you feel young again.
But let's admit something else: It will inevitably go bad. The whole thing will blow up, and it will turn out to be a scam. You won't get satisfaction. You want to explore the outer reaches of your fetish, and you'll just end up helping some rich guy you don't even know collect your money. So you'll torch your relationship with the party. And after it's done all your friends are going to find out that you were one of those guys. Also, everyone's going to say you deserved to get swindled and embarrassed. Because you had a crushing sense of entitlement. And also because you didn't know how good you had it.
You know it ends this way, too. Even now. And knowing it won't stop you.
You're a real asshole.
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