Our great American family

Americans like simplicity. They may like it painted, studded, covered in knickknacks and sprinkled with glitter, but they want it to fit neatly into a little niche in the drop top desk.

All gays could work at the Bird Cage. Lesbians are rough, tough and militant. Transgender folk equate with Ripley's Siamese twins.

Our fifty shades of race lay on a sliding scale of value.

Democrats are bleeding heart liberals and Republicans are budding Hitlers.

The list goes on, but the truth is that most of us are much more alike than we want to admit, or care to believe.

We act out of fear and ignorance. We are quick to jump on bandwagons as long as there are other familiar faces on board.

We believe in karma and heaven and hell, for those others who threaten our being.

We are tweens in a world that is watching us grow up in a painfully dangerous situation.

Usually governed by a president who is chosen because he is older, wiser, and more grounded than the masses, our Rumspringa has not yet destroyed the earth.

But now the head of the family is riding around with the top down, honking the horn, shouting at passers by and indiscriminatingly throwing trash out the window.

That is definitely not so great.