Un-American to the last

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OK, it’s official. I am un-American.

I’ve suspected it for a long time. Ever since the day I first objected to the addition of “under God” to the Pledge of Allegiance, I’ve known that this day was coming.

After all, I hold such unpatriotic notions as that the Bill of Rights is a good thing and that any organization that seeks to protect it is OK by me. That’s right. I have been a card-carrying member of the ACLU. All I can say in my defense is that I have failed to pay my dues this year. I’d better put that on my “to-do” list.

I’ve tried to persuade myself that it’s OK to indoctrinate children with publicly led prayer. I find myself remembering fondly the second-grade teacher who every year visited each classroom with her felt storyboard and told us how Christ rose from the dead on Easter morning. Was that so bad? This was in white-bread, totally Christian, Middle America, after all, where the only ethnic minority was Catholics. But that is begging the question. I would never have allowed my son to sit in on such a session.

But my perfidy goes even further. I support my local NPR and PBS stations. I listen to Rachel Maddow most nights. I think Stephen Colbert and Jon Stewart rock. I believe that nobody needs a submachine gun, either to bring down a deer or for personal security, and I believe that it is possible to pass laws regulating these weapons without destroying the Second Amendment.

But now, now I know that I am forever lost to the ranks of right-thinking Americans. What have I done to reach this moment? It’s a sin so unconscious that I didn’t even realize I was committing it. But when all is said and done, I must bow my head in mortification.

I like mustard on my hamburgers.
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