Convoluted: (adj) twisted, intricately involved

“Would you like to join?” she said with a smile as fresh as a can of peaches.

She really wanted me to join.

There is a tendency in our species to want to link up, join up and hook up. She was trying to get me to join an organization called “Save the Whales (Before It’s Too Late).” I wanted to explain to her that I have nothing against whales. (It would be hypocritical to take that profile since I have my own blubber, and I’ve been known to be a blowhole.)

I don’t have a problem with people who have a point to make or even want to shout out their cause. It’s the “joining” part that bothers me.

It becomes convoluted.

For instance, I’m not allowed to say I’m a Democrat unless I support the Democratic platform in its entirety. Likewise with the Republicans.

Most churches are not pleased if I approach Christian theology like a smorgasbord, picking here and there from different denominations. No—they want me to join.

If you’re a Congressman who just heard the State of the Union, and the President is not of your party, you are not allowed to express appreciation for any point he may have made. If you do, you are not adequately joining the party—accepting all the convoluted ways the organization plans to use to gain and maintain power.

I have trouble with joining.

I don’t have trouble with agreeing.

I don’t have any problem at all with listening to opinions that may be contrary to mine and finding worth within the framework of the new idea.

But when you tell me I’m a Christian, and therefore I have to do the following eight things or you will question my authenticity, I can get downright pagan.

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