Michelob Dark is first class all the way. Drinking Newcastle as we speak. I am unable to imagine a situation so dire that I would be forced to resort to drinking Bud or Coors. Coors Winterfest isn't bad though, in a pinch.
My dad was in the navy from 1934-1945. The ship(s) that he was on during WWII participated in many of the major Pacific battles/campaigns. He had lots of decorations considering that he was only a machinist's mate. He earned higher rank a couple of times, but would routinely get busted down for fighting (unauthorized boxing matches and gambling) or trying to sneak bottles of liquor aboard ship. That stuff happened back then; I don't know about now. He was a card-carrying union member from 1946 to 1999 (I have his 50 year pin on my monitor--looking up at it now--can't imagine--50 years). He was a lifetime member of the VFW. He had "Buy American," VFW and U.S. flag decals on every Ford, Chevy or more often, International Harvester truck that he had owned during my lifetime. He only wore boots (work boots at work, cowboy boots the rest of the time) or slippers, always wore a huge belt buckle and bolo tie--one would have the VFW insignia, the other the union insignia, and either a cowboy hat or a baseball cap with his ship's insignia. He drank beer. Lots of it. Said "water rusts your pipes." And he smoked cigars--cheap, smelly ones. He mostly ate steak and potatoes, or cheese, salami and crackers. He liked talking about football, cars and women (not in that order), he swore a lot, and he liked to tell dirty jokes. He liked to hunt and fish, and tell stories about shooting wolves and foxes for the cash value of their pelts in 1920s upstate New York, and using his pet ferret to catch rabbits and whatnot.He liked country music--old style honky tonk and western swing, but particularly patriotic historical ballads. He liked to play poker with "the boys." He watched boxing, football or hockey and those silly fishing programs, the news and the History Channel-type war documentaries, and that's about it. Yet, he was intolerant of very few things, but those things typically had to do with people who take the wonderful gift that is this country for granted. Get the mental picture? He was a "man's man" and a "true, red-blooded American." I would call him a "hick," but he'd correct me and say that he was a hillbilly. I always assumed that he was a Democrat.
When my dad was in what would turn out to be his last hospital visit, I made a complaint about taxes. Not about paying taxes, but about the fact that a huge retroactive pay raise had been put on my regular paycheck, bumping me up a couple of tax brackets for the check, and thereby nullifying the retroactive raise. He misunderstood, and lit in to me like I was an ungrateful child complaining about what had been made for me to eat or about what I had received for Christmas. He proceeded to remind me of all the things that I expect to be in place each day--from infrastructure to public safety to defense to education to . . .well you name it. This list took a surprisingly long time, and many of the daily "expections" that he listed I hadn't really thought much about. Then, he did something unexpected--he said that we get away too easy and we should be paying more taxes, and that many private organizations should be government run. I listened for a while, then pointed out that he was advocating socialism. Then, he had me fetch his wallet. In it was several social security-size voter registration cards going back decades. He was a registered Socialist (some said "Peace & Freedom Party). He told me that he had been one from the early 30s. He was one of those who was grateful for FDR saving our democracy by making the country slightly more socialist than it had ever been, but he believed that FDR had not gone far enough. Mind you, neither my dad, his brothers or his father were out of work during the Great Depression. But he knew plenty that were. And he witnessed the suffering. He never forgot it, or what FDR did for the people at that time. He spent 4 years fighting in a war--he recalled the sorror of the Great Depression.
My dad told me that he usually voted Democrat because there were so few socialist candidates anymore, and because the Democratic party tended to care more about everyday people than Republicans. He said this (I'll never forget it): "People have called me a "bleeding-heart" liberal, and they seem to think that this is some kind of insult. It means to me that I care about something other than myself. I can live with that. Always have anyway. Republicans--what do people call them again? Doesn't matter. There's two types of Republicans: 1% are those that have "made it" and they wouldn't care what WE call them anyway. The other 99% are wannabe's--they just want to be like the other 1%. They're the ones that are always making up some explanatiom--excuse for why it's Ok for them to be selfish. They're like five year old olds fighing over one toy in a full toybox. Remember this--the rich got that way on the backs of the poor, and us stupid poor people should hate them, but we either want to be like the rich or we just give up and go on welfare. Dont't ever give up. Don't ever go on welfare. Don't ever be a Republican." Then he started talking about wanting to "do" the nurse, and when she came in he asked if it was time for his sponge bath. As it always was with my dad--I was both embarrassed and proud.
My dad knew that he was preaching to the converted though. The bottom line is, Republican or Democrat, slightly right or slightly left of center, we're all Americans (well, those of us that are Americans--and this is directed at the Democrat vs. Republican debate), and we all want what's best for the country. We disagree on the methods of achieving our collective goal. I'm selfish--I want America to be strong for centuries to come. I want my great-grand children and beyond to enjoy what I've enjoyed. Dialog like this is constructive. I value your viewpoints, even if they differ from my own. Most of the time I can not only understand how those more conservative than I feel, but sometimes I feel that way myself. Then I consider where I believe that path leads, and then I back my thinking up and start again.
Please, feel free to jump down my throat. Clarify your position. Critique mine. Isn't it great that we can? I love this place.