It’s taken me all this time I’ve been back from my Goodboys trip back to Massachusetts to contemplate this post, but it occurred to me today that I’ve been afraid to post what I’m about to say, so I should stop being a pussy and best get on with it. You see, a bunch of the guys were hanging around late on Saturday night that weekend tossing back a few brewskies when the lightning rod of politics came up. Fortunately, I had decided to retire a little earlier and, thankfully, wasn’t privy to the actual event (although multiple witnesses confirmed it), and it just so happens that in the course of discussion the topic of Donald Trump came up, and one of the Goodboys, hearing one of his fellow Goodboys express his support for the President, accused that person of being a racist. (Something that, BTW, seems very much in vogue these days.)

Had I been there and been equally accused, I’m not sure what I would have done – probably just calmly gather my things from my room, tell the boys to have a nice eternity, and head down the road to the nearest hotel with vacancy between Yarmouth, Massachusetts and Newport, Rhode Island – but in this case the accused Goodboy showed the better part of valor (and class, I might add) and simply walked away. What bugs me most, I guess, is that not one of my fellow Goodboys who were there (at least to my knowledge) demanded that the dick-head apologize as any true Goodboy would have done – after all, we all have said things in the heat of battle and under the influence (at least I know I have) that I felt bad about and apologized for later. To this date, I don’t believe any apology has been issued to one of the nicest Goodboys ever (and, like me, a “Founding Father”, no less!). I expect one not to be forthcoming.

It must be said before I go further that all but one of my fellow Goodboys are exceedingly amiable chaps – in all but one case we’ve known each other for a long time and been through all kinds of ups and downs and with our personal quirks just like any twelve people who live in different places with different lives who come together for one weekend a year would be. We come from different places socially, financially, culturally, politically, and personally, and those differences over the years (especially as we all get older and more set in our ways) can sometimes require more than a little bit of patience and tolerance to accept. But in this case, there’s really no excuse for what this dick-head said. Sure, there was alcohol involved, and sure (as one Goodboy told me) you can’t take seriously anything this dick-head happens to say because, well, he’s a dick-head.

Unfortunately, my tolerance for dick-heads has pretty much run dry over the past few years. I deal with them at work on an almost daily basis (this past week as been especially “dick-heady” in that regard), and as a Goodboy I really don’t want to have to deal with them at play. Look, if you truly believe Donald Trump is a racist – something that shows you’re completely removed from reality, that’s one thing. But to accuse anyone who supports Trump to be a racist (especially a fellow Goodboy), well, that’s far beyond the pale. Any normal individual with any kind of conscience might have been horrified the next morning over what he said and would have apologized. But that didn’t happen. And the fact that this dick-head has been given a ride on this just goes against every fiber in my being.

Anyone who reads this blog knows darned tootin’ that I’m no friend of liberals and Democrats as rule and in general as far as politics is concerned. And while there was no love lost between me and the likes of the Obamas while they occupied the White House, it never, ever occurred to me to accuse their supporters of being anything other than folks who were misguided politically. And while I think the progressive left and Democrats have lost their minds in a collective way, I can still sit down and enjoy cocktails with some very opinionated Democrat and progressive friends and have civil conversation and share laughs. To label them or accuse them of something as serious as racism (and I take that charge quite seriously) would never in a million years occur to me.

As you can tell, this episode troubles The Great White Shank greatly. More than two weeks on it still bothers me that when I had the chance to say something late on Sunday afternoon when we were all breaking up I didn’t do or say anything. Maybe, as some have said, it wasn’t my place to begin with – after all, like I say, I wasn’t there. But I care for the friend who was accused rather deeply, and I’m not willing to let something like this slide. To accuse someone of being a racist simply because he holds a different political (and perhaps philosophical) view is a very serious charge, and can only come from a very ignorant, hateful, and dark place in that person’s psyche. In short, we’re talking serious a$$hole quotient here.

So I’m going on record (because I know there are some Goodboys who read this blog) to say that unless the dick-head apologizes to my Goodboys pal (privately or publicly), there’s no place for me anymore in Goodboys. Consider me done. I’ll survive the third weekend of next July fully aware of any consequence that might result, but I’m a grown man and can certainly take whatever punches come my way. Heck, if that happens I’ll even retire this blog and find another name for it or just give the whole blogging gig up. There’s right and there’s wrong, and in this case the actions of one so-called Goodboy (who’s actually not a Goodboy by any stretch of the imagination to begin with) goes far beyond what is right. Just because the progressive and liberal left in this country has gone insane doesn’t mean I have to accept and break bread with the worst these folks exemplify in their hatred of the President and those who happen to support him. Politics is just politics, and being a Goodboy ought to transcend politics, even in this most highly-charged and emotional environment we now live in.

It’s a shame that after 29 years it has to come to this. But I’m very choosy about my friends and those whom I choose to associate with. There’s not one Goodboy (well, maybe there are one or two) that I wouldn’t drop everything to go and help them if they needed it, and I know most of the other guys feel the same. I’ve had my own ups and downs as far as my feelings go about continuing on with the Goodboys as long as I have (heck, I’ll bet we all have), but I’ve kept going because they’ve always been, if not “best friend” worthy, good enough and fun enough to hang around with one weekend a year. But this whole episode troubles me and grieves me deeply, enough to say that if this isn’t rectified come next year’s event then it’s time for me to say adios.