Sometimes, I don’t like being right:
On the other hand, it’s also good to know that one’s instincts are to be trusted. As a student of Aristotle and Thomas, a politically conservative newly SAHM who plans on homeschooling her quite possible ginormous brood, and who happens to be married to a professional card-carrying Thomist philosopher …
It’s OK; we make so little that his other hero’s
master probably isn’t spinning in his grave.
… I am, apparently, not liked by some influential portion of the Clinton camp. And knowing that, rather than just suspecting it, is oddly a relief. It’s like discovering that your teacher or boss really doesn’t like you, or finding that there was an actual cause for those strange sounds in the middle of the night. You’re not paranoid—or at least not just paranoid—there is a there there. There really are people who dislike you, possibly fear you, and wish you weren’t around. Good grief, I’m part of a despised religious and ideological minority!
I don’t know that this will change anyone’s vote in a few weeks. But I do know that in almost any other election year this could be—should be—a big deal. In fact, it is a big deal whether it gets acknowledged as one or not.
I used to think predictions (or even diagnoses) of white martyrdom were exaggerated (first link for the modern interpretation of the phrase, second for the original notion). Over the last few years, I’ve thought that less and less often. Now—I still don’t know if I can say I’m a believer in the concept. But as a believer, I may be saying it soon.