They say confession is good for the soul, so here it is:
I am a white male.
Ever since the election, all I've heard is that our day is done. It's all our fault. My kind drove America to perdition -- in fact, the whole world plus the moon, too, because 12 of us landed there. The election was our comeuppance. I read it in the New York Times:
"Mitt Romney is the president of white male America," wrote Maureen Dowd.
"Maybe the group can retreat to a man cave in a Whiter House, with mahogany paneling, brown leather Chesterfields, a moose head over the fireplace. ... In its delusional death spiral, the white male patriarchy was so hard core, so redolent of country clubs and Cadillacs, it made little effort not to alienate women."
Nearly 43 million of my kind voted Nov. 6. Sixty-two percent of us voted for Mitt Romney, 35 percent for Barack Obama. That's 15 million white male Obama voters in an election where the popular vote margin was 3 million.
Doesn't matter. White males invented the concept of collective guilt -- so it's on us.
From what I read, we're all the same, all guilty, all part of that hard-core white patriarchy, sitting here in the country club man-cave on our brown leather Chesterfields (apparently a fancy kind of couch), staring at the moose head over the fireplace.