At the ripe old age of 50 years and some change, my grumpy old man mentality is starting to develop quite nicely.  I’m really starting to look forward to what it’s continued blossoming will bring forth in the years to come.

It should probably be said here and now that my reasons for benevolently dispatching the next installment of verbal brilliance to an otherwise dull internet do not revolve around my traipses through middle-age-hood.

Instead I’m here to tell you about a recent lesson learned, the nexus of which resides in a simple French Dip sandwich.

Ladies and gentlemen, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again.

*Insert some witty and profound statement about a French Dip sandwich right here.*

I’m pretty sure that deep down in the warmest spot of your heart of hearts, you feel the same way.

For those of you not in the know, the French Dip sandwich has served honorably in the prejudiced palette of yours truly for as long as I can remember.

For those of you who are really not in the know, the French Dip is a hot sandwich consisting of thinly sliced roast beef on a “French roll” or baguette.  It is usually served topped with Swiss Cheese, onions, and a side of beef juice from the cooking process.

The origin of the sandwich is American.  In true ‘mercun fashion, the sandwich features ingredients attributable to the French, the Swiss, and Onionia.  The beef squeezings referenced in the plagiarized Wiki statement above is also known au jus.

The process for eating one of these bad boys is that you dip the sandwich into the au jus, eat the part of the sandwich that you just dipped, wipe off your chin, dab at the mess you just dipped on the front of your shirt, lament the absence of a bib that doesn’t diminish your adulthood dignity, and repeat.

There’s a more adventurous segment of fans of this coffee shop delicacy who like to order their French Dip “Dirty”.  In times like these, the beef squeezings (au jus) is replaced with beef sneezings (au choo).

The last time I had a French Dip was just last week at a dinner party.

Okay, technically it was lunch.

For all tents and porpoises, it was a group of family members who had gathered to celebrate a birthday.  Instead of the host slaving in the kitchen to make something for everyone, we were all tasked with bringing our own vittles.  Among the five households which were represented at that event, no less than four different eateries were employed in the collective mastication perpetrated at the dining room table that afternoon.

Wifey and I had darkened the door of Schlotzky’s for the event, and I arrived with a bastardized French Dip.

That’s right people.

Bastardized.

The sandwich was made with pretzel bread instead of a baguette.

Fortunately it wasn’t a Dirty Bastard resplendent with au choo.  I’m not that adventurous.

One thing I learned that day is that even though I’m not very adventurous with my palette, I seem to have no problem telling others the way things should be.  That’s a recent development with my arrival to middle-age-hood, as I traditionally haven’t really done it with this particular group of people in the 25 years I’ve been associated with them.

Fortunately, I selected two topics which are pretty safe subjects to broach at such gatherings.

Politics and finances.

Religion is no problem with this group.  We all have the same views.

It all started with Beto.

One of my in-laws is not happy with Ted Cruz at all.  Her reasoning is that in the time Cruz has spent in the Senate, he hasn’t successfully sponsored any bills that have become law.  It seems like there were a few other reasons, but only one of them even resonated with me.

She’s also posted her intentions on Facebook that for the most part she’s voting a straight ticket this fall, save for one punch of the chad for Beto.

The discussion went back and forth about the subject between her, her husband, and others in the room who had something to say.  But then, she asked the question which opened the door wide the internet’s most prolific purveyor of verbal brilliance to respond.  “What’s wrong with voting a full straight ticket minus voting the one vote for Beto?”
In a “hold my beer, watch this” fashion, I answered that question.

“First of all, you need to understand that when I vote for someone at any level, be it local, state, or national, I’m voting for someone who shares the view that Government is not the boss of me and I’m to be left alone.  I’m not voting for someone to go into office to limit what I can and cannot do.

I absolutely love that Ted Cruz hasn’t given us new laws, save for the Kate Steinle legislation which was unsuccessful.  A few years ago when Obamacare went live, the government shut down on the same day.  You know who did that?  Ted Cruz did because he was driving home the fact government is too big.

You have an entire political party that is completely unhinged by the will of the people.  What happened recently with the Kavanaugh hearings is a perfect example of it.  Beto’s part of it.  If you put him in the Senate, that eloquent Bobby Kennedy lookin’, cult of personality isn’t going to vote independent of his party for the sake of what’s good and right for this country.

He’s going to vote for all of the goofball programs that are being bandied about nowadays that I know you don’t like.  Medicare for all, universal basic income, and any other stupid piece of legislation designed to limit our freedom will get your blessing because you voted for Beto.

If you don’t like Ted Cruz, fine.  Primary him.  If you’re going to vote for Beto, do so knowing what he will do, and be ready to accept the consequence of what suffering such suffrage will bring.”

The room went silent.  My audience sat there stunned because I had either made a really good point that they couldn’t tear apart, or they just couldn’t believe I was capable of espousing such opinions beyond a one line sarcastic remark.

The matriarch responded.  “I agree with you Randy.  I don’t want to vote my freedom away.  By the way, you dribbled a little au jus on your shirt there.”

One of the downstream benefits to my eloquence was that I managed to kill the political talk for the time being.  I’m not really adverse to getting into political discussions, however at the same time, I’d rather not get into them with people that I don’t want to alienate.

Lunch continued.

We all continued to gnaw away at the various quesadillas, chicken fingers, salads, and sandwiches we had brought to the table.  Some of those items continued to be dipped and dribbled.

At the point when the last bit of au jus was being wiped away from one of my dark solid shirts, the subject of a car lease came up.  Juniorette got into a lease a few years ago, and in a matter of months, she’ll need to make a decision on what to do about.

For what it’s worth, if I had known then what I know now about leases, I would have encouraged my daughter to pursue other avenues.  None the less, we’ve discussed it recently and have laid down a specific framework to meeting her transportation needs in the near future.

None the less, the question about the expiring lease came up and the Beto fan offered up an immediate opinion/directive.  “She just needs to turn it (the car) in and get into a new lease.”

Additional conversation and questions ensued from others at the table, yet the directive remained the same.  A rhythmic popping noise could be heard by a couple people at the table, but I was only one who knew that the origin of that sound was from the veins in my head losing their structural integrity.

Two inner voices in my head were providing two different sets of instructions.

Voice #1 – “Hey you shut them up earlier over Beto.  Tell them where they’re wrong again.”

Voice #2 – “Shut up.  Don’t say a word.  Let it go.”

Alienation of the extended family, you’re up in 5, 4, 3,…….

“We are not going to pursue a new lease for her.  The interest rate on those things is about 14%, and they don’t even have to tell you their charging you that much.  The cost of “ownership” is too high.  Leases are generally a bad idea.”

This time the stunned silence came from the belief that Randy had just entered into the land of dumbassary.  It didn’t last long, as no less than four people opened their collective pie holes all at once to show me the error or my ways.

The auto parts store owner who used to sell cars & leases piped up and announced that the bulk of his business is selling parts to people to have the cars they own fixed.  Leases give you that peace of mind that if something goes wrong, the dealership takes care of it.

There were plenty of other arguments thrown my way all at once extolling the virtues of a lease.

I initially defended the first bevy of arguments with a better way of dealing with car ownership before Voice #2 spoke up again within the confines of my skull.  As the conversation continued on the outside with everyone chipping in their two cents, the discussion I was really paying attention to was going on internally.

“Look at your audience” said Voice #2.  “You just had to explain freedom to one of them.  Besides that, her husband is a career car guy who knows the business.  Convincing them of your point is like convincing you that mutual funds are bad investment vehicles.”

The voice continued.  “The other one over there who’s piped up hasn’t really demonstrated to you that they possess the necessary aptitude for intelligently discussing all things financial.

Bigger picture, no one at this table shares the same mindset you have about getting out of and staying out of debt.

These people don’t know what your financial plans are, and they aren’t approaching this discussion from the same point of view.

So as I said before.  Shut up and let it go.”

And that I did.

So if you’ve made it this far into today’s dispatch, and you were paying attention to the opening salvo of verbal brilliance, you’re probably wondering what lesson was learned here.

On the surface, the first lesson I learned was that I was more successful doing some level setting on the approach I take when I vote.  Instead of opening my mouth and letting noise come out about my opinions about car leases, I should have done similar level setting.

Even still, there was a deeper lesson to be learned over warm sliced roast beef dipped lovingly in au jus.