Elitism

I have a real problem. I think I’m an elitist. Until recently I didn’t know this was a problem. Sure, I heard pundits call Obama an elitist in 2008 because he ate arugula, but I never felt that applied to me because I didn’t know what arugula was. Today if you watch TV for any length of time, you’ll see political ads claiming that everyone is either an elitist or extremist.

At first I thought I might be an extremist, since I’m against cutting $500 billion from Medicare. (At least I think I am; cutting all that money from Medicare seems like it would harm kindly, wrinkled grandmas.) Then I realized that thinking that gay people are cool means that I can’t be an extremist.

Oh my god, I think gay people are cool! That must make me an elitist. So I started thinking about it in more detail. I’m not a fan of NASCAR, because I think that any activity that requires the same skillset that my mom utilizes when going to the grocery store is a competition but not a sport. I watch Mad Men because it’s smart and entertaining, and I don’t watch CSI because it isn’t smart or entertaining. Sometimes I read books. Hell, I drink lattes. And wine. How more elitist can I be?

Starting today, I’m going to take the steps necessary to not be an elitist. My first steps will be drinking instant coffee and eating white bread and iceberg lettuce. I’m also selling my books to an elitist bookstore to fund my expanded cable subscription. This is just the beginning. I’ve determined that it’s more important to meet a standard strangers have set up for me than to do things I actually enjoy.