I sit down to write this while eating some shrimp tacos.
Shrimp tacos, you see, are a nice variation on the original taco. Also includes shrimp. I really like shrimp. But what is the right way to make a shrimp taco? I really don’t know. I just don’t.
I believe that cheese is not right with seafood.
I like to make my own salsa, because that’s what makes a good shrimp taco. Good salsa would make a regular taco too.
Let’s face it, a good salsa would make any taco. Regardless of the protein.
I took some cherry tomatoes and cooked them on a low heat with olive oil and garlic. I seasoned to taste. Once the tomatoes started popping, I put them in the blender with a various amount of jalapenos, onions, seasoning, and whatever else I want.
Cooked shrimp covered in my salsa and topped with lettuce for crunch. Fold in a tortilla. It was a good dinner. As I’ve finished them at this point.
I didn’t write to tell you about my version of shrimp tacos.
Somebody once said that variety is the spice of life.
Because you may like your shrimp tacos prepared differently. Or more mild. Or with cheese.
There is very little variety where I work. Most of the employees are part of, or friends of, a closely knit family that runs the operation. I don’t have a problem with this outside of the fact that some of these family members are not good workers.
I’ve also learned that the family which exists is there because the office manager’s father is a preacher.
They shouldn’t hold this against me.
Member of the family: I don’t know if I like Trump, but I don’t think there should be any Muslims in this country.
Me: What’s the point of having the First Amendment?
Member: Freedom of Speech?
Me: And freedom of and from religion. Freedom of the press.
Member: But the Muslims want to kill Christians.
Me: And white people seem to be killing brown people at a pretty good rate right now.
Conversation goes round and round. I discuss socio-economic status. I talk about desperate people. I talk about how we have one life and some will do anything to get themselves out of a difficult world. How we have big brains which will convince us of anything.
His response was consistent. He didn’t understand Muslims. Period.
He doesn’t have to. May as well be putting cheese on seafood.
And then, somehow, he brought up homosexual people. He asked why the government gets to decide what’s right?
Me: Just because it’s okay to be homosexual does not mean you have to be. It shouldn’t bother you. As long as you are not affected, it should not matter.
Him: What if it does affect me?
Me: Are you being raped?
Him: No, but what if family doesn’t agree?
Me: That’s ridiculous. There are many things that family may not agree with. Get over it.
Him: Next thing you know, government will be saying bestiality will be okay.
Me: No. Animals are affected.
Him: What? The dog?
Me: Yeah. Dogs cannot consent. Bad argument. Learn to be accepting that not everybody is the same. Learn that people actually believe in something other than you. Learn that people should be treated fairly and taken care of. Not dismissed.
He groaned, so I continued.
Learn to think that we are all human. That we all deserve a fair shake. There are killers of all religions. The key is to lift those who feel repressed to a better position and I bet they don’t want to go to desperate measures anymore.
So I continued.
I realize that none of this is what you believe in, so what makes you think you’re right? Learn to accept a little and I bet that things may be a little better.
Because there’s more than one way to make a taco.
And there’s more than one way to make a shrimp taco.
I would be interested in trying many of them, but not all. I have my feelings about certain things.
I am okay, though, if you prefer your shrimp tacos prepared differently. Not my problem. I’ll do what I do and you do what you do.
Why can’t the political and religious experience be like shrimp tacos?
Let’s be serious about this.
There’s more than one way to prepare your ideas and more than one ideology from where you come. Doesn’t mean any other person is wrong.
As long as nobody gets hurt.
Don’t put rat poison in my tacos. That’s a rule.