And do I really want to know?

This afternoon a woman and her young son came and knocked on my door. They were, apparently spreading awareness of {mumbled} Disease which makes people sprout red, white and blue fibers from their skin. And she said that with a straight face, as she then offered to sell me my very own American flag-on-a-stick.

Ignoring the fact that there is a definite No Soliciting policy for this complex and that I really dislike the whole door-to-door in your face sort of thing, I happen to be a bit of an iconoclast when it comes to the flag. Essentially, so many people have waved it and plastered it every which way but loose in defense and support of all sorts of varied, at odds, reasons that it’s pretty much lost all meaning for me. I understand on a logical level that, to many, it remains a symbol of really good things and I’m glad other people feel that way and are willing to make all sorts of sacrifices in the name of it and I respect their reverence thereof as a valid response for them. But for me, not so much.

And, for the record, I feel that way about a lot of over-used iconography. Frankly, any item that is taken so seriously that instead of a symbol of ideals that are revered the THING is what becomes sacred or revered in an almost idolatrous fashion is a sign that the situation has been taken too far. Things fade, break, get soiled and generally go away. There is nothing inherently divine in two pieces of wood nailed together (oh, yeah, I’m going there) aside from the fact that it was created from the same molecules we are. Statues are not people, they are 3-d representations of people. Not the same thing. A metal circle is not a marriage, it is a symbol, it can be crushed, scratched, dented, become tarnished and can be lost.

Ooh, bit of an unexpected rant, there, but hey, it’s momentarily distracting me from the fact that I still feel very icky and urpy.