On Being Wrong (And Admitting It)
Back when I cast my vote for George W. Bush, I was 21 years old, voting in my first presidential election. I was wrong about a lot of shit back then.
I’m probably still wrong about a lot of shit now. Though less, I hope, than when I was 21.
America has always sold itself like a potluck dinner—“Bring your culture! Bring your grandma’s recipes! Bring the funky spices we can pretend we invented!”