But some of my best friends are tuna sandwiches!

In the early days of this blog, I used to take online tests and report the results a lot more often than I do now. In fact, Friday used to be “Online Test Day at Classical Values.” Why “used to be” (and there’s a ton more of such silliness), I don’t exactly know. I guess it used to be a challenge to connect my own dots, and eventually it became too much of a “blogligation” and once that happens, the fun tends to suffer accordingly. It’s like, if I have to do something that’s fun, it ceases to be fun because I have to do it.
So, the trick is to maintain the “don’t have to” space by any means necessary. Well, almost any means. Carried to the ultimate extreme, that would mean no more blogging, which would cut off even the possibility of having fun with the blog. But I often enjoy reminding myself that just as I don’t have to blog, I don’t have to write about anything simply because I’m “supposed to.”
Like right now, if I put on my blogigatory “supposed to” mental suit of clothes (whatever they might be) I should probably be writing about all kinds of crap that I’m not writing about. Like the Iraq war, the Culture War, the Election War, Gun Control, the Drug War, the Sex War, the scandals which are always somewhere, the endless disputed factual scenarios which should be championed or debunked, or point-of-viewed. (Why, there’s even Hillary Clinton’s Senior Thesis — which I refuse steadfastly to read, because, well, I wrote one too which I’m sure was equally bad.) Anyway, I’m sure I’ll find something which will irritate me enough to write about it. If nothing else, there are always activists of all stripes abusing logic and twisting the meaning of words in their endless quest to mess with people. While that usually will get a rise out of me, it can get exhausting, and long drives through ghastly New Jersey suburban ghettoes have a way of draining me.
To the point where here I am, sitting here not wanting to feel blogligated in any way, only to abruptly discover that I am a turkey sandwich!
Yes, I’m afraid it’s true. I clicked on a link at The Anchoress, and took the test. The results border on making me look downright stodgy, set in my ways, and boring!

You Are a Turkey Sandwich

Conservative and a bit shy, you tend to stick with what you know and trust. You are very introverted, and you prefer to blend in whenever possible. Though you may be hard to know well, anyone who does know you considers you a true friend. Your best friend: The Ham Sandwich Your mortal enemy: The Tuna Fish Sandwich

In my defense, I should point out that I find turkey sandwiches boring, and normally I don’t go out of my way to buy them, although I will eat them.
How and why the Anchoress got to be a grilled cheese sandwich (something I prefer to a turkey sandwich any day), and I’m stuck with being a turkey, I don’t know. It hardly strikes me as fair. I’m not sure I’m comfortable seeing food and personal psychology conflated in this manner, especially when you’re stamped as a food which is not necessarily your preference!
Then there’s the question of “mortal enemies.” The Ham Sandwich is said to be my best friend, and the Anchoress’s mortal enemy! I’m assuming this mean that she is tasked with indicting a ham sandwich, and I with defending it. Sigh. Yet another blogligation I don’t want.
Worst of all, this is triggering that creepy sense of blogligation again. I mean, ham sandwiches in the workplace are under attack these days, at least in England or Scotland or some damn place, and I haven’t been doing a good job of defending them, have I?
[Um, try American schools, Eric.]
And I see that Doug Mataconis at Below the Beltway is a ham sandwich.
See how complicated this gets?
All things considered, I’d rather be a hoagie, for after all, I am what I eat.
So why doesn’t that mean I get to eat what I am?
Whatever happened to the right to prefer my choices and choose my preferences?
I hate to sound like a leftist whiner, but I really think that my natural hoagie orientation has been stifled by turkey-normativism.
Call me paranoid, but I think there might be an element of hoagiephobia.
(Notice that it’s a word that dare not speak its name!)
UPDATE: It turns out that my good friend Sean Kinsell is, yes, a ham sandwich! He’s posted a very amusing description of his plight.
And I will defend Sean against all indictments!