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Arguing politics is a total waste of time, like arguing ice cream.

Lovers of chocolate will never convince fans of vanilla to shift allegiance.

“Your vanilla’s too plain!”

“Well, your chocolate kills dogs.”

You’ll never talk a sherbet groupie into soft-serve or a cone-lover into using a bowl.

“I’ll use my tongue, thank you.”

“I prefer a spoon, you neanderthal.”

“I like firm and tart.”

“I prefer soft and artificially flavored.”

“Ben and Jerry are mama’s boys.”

“Well, Haagen Daz is a commie!”

And no matter how loud we yell, we’ll never stop those sneaky Neapolitan jerkos from scooping out all the strawberry while completely avoiding the chocolate and vanilla.

“It’s like they used a protractor and a putty knife.”

If politics were ice cream, I used to believe that if I were honest and clever enough, I could get you to see how delicious it is to add pecans or chunks of fruit to your mix.

Now I realize some people just don’t like chewing hard things while other stuff is melting.

It’s a fool’s errand to argue ice cream because people decide on their favorites for so many personal reasons.

“Butter Pecan’s what I’ve always eaten.”

“Mom and dad loved sorbet and I hate them, so I only eat frozen yogurt.”

“That one day I was happiest I ate a bowl of Rocky Road. Now I’m afraid other flavors will make me weepy.”

Ice cream trends come and go but in my 57 years I’ve come to realize one certain truth.

No matter what flavor or brand of ice cream you choose, if you eat too much, too fast or make illegal payoffs to Baskin-Robbins or try to steal all 31-derful flavors, it will always give you a brain-freezing indictment, er, I mean headache.
Now, enjoy your dessert, I’ll bring the bill out in just a moment.