How to Lose Friends and Annoy People

Why we watch what we say, and when we should.

Savannah, GA

June 3, 2026

Saturday we attended an outdoor party at a nearby pub. My shirt sported a Georgia Tech logo. When I saw someone else wearing the same emblem, I introduced myself.

“Wait,” his wife wondered after hearing my name. “Do you have a Substack?”

Uh oh.

Who was this and why did she want to know? And how would she know?

“Maybe…”, I hedged, uncertain which epistles she might’ve read.

She reassured me that she subscribes to my site and likes what I write, so I felt comfortable confessing.

But why should I have worried? How could I be fine unloading touchy topics on thousands of strangers, yet flinch when one of them meets me? Is the keyboard a dependable shield… or a deceptive one?

Society cycles thru periods when it’s unacceptable to question conventional “wisdom”. During the War Between the States or the First World War, doing so could get you jailed. During the covid hysteria earlier this decade, challenging the prescribed narrative risked unemployment and social ostracism.

Religion and politics are generally considered off-limits for polite conversation. So instead we use them to stoke raucous ones.

When I lived in San Francisco, we hosted a weekly dinner that became something of a Salon. Friends would gather, from different political persuasions (in that city, with my perspectives, it was almost impossible to find any others). Argument was inevitable… and welcomed. Ribeyes and wine fueled debate about controversial issues only we could resolve.

Why shouldn’t we? What else should we talk about? Traffic? The weather? What we “do” for a living?

This small talk is fine as far as it goes. But it usually goes too far, because most of us are afraid to talk about anything else. That’s what happens when evading eggshells matters most.

But why should opposing perspectives give offense? We all have them. No one has an opinion with which everyone else agrees. Thank goodness. Because all of us are unique. None of us shares the same opinion on everything with anyone.

That’s how it should be. How dull would life be if everyone affirmed whatever we said? Isn’t diversity supposed to be our strength? Why can’t dissident… even “offensive” opinions… be allowed?

If nothing else, wouldn’t we rather know who holds “repulsive” thoughts? Or is it better to hide them under hypocrisy’s cloak?

Would a black patron prefer to unwittingly patronize a bigoted businessman, or knowingly avoid an overt segregationist? If someone is going to reflexively despise me, I’d rather know right away so I can invest energy elsewhere.

First principles and core philosophy are what matter most. I care less about what someone does than about who he is. I won’t know that by hearing how long it takes him to get to work or who he wants to win the World Series.

I never understood why so many Americans are personally offended by random opinions. Not that they shouldn’t disagree with them. Maybe they should. I take issue with most, and most take issue with mine.

That’s fine. It doesn’t mean we can’t be friends. If it did, I probably wouldn’t have any.

But too many people’s “principles” extend no further than the political party or pet issues that affirm the latest fads. When moods shift, they do too… and they expect others to bend with the breeze.

Such self-inflicted subjugation is degrading. I prefer people who take a stand so I know where they sit. What do I care if it’s someplace I don’t want to be, so long as I can go somewhere else?

As Jefferson said about religion, others’ beliefs “neither pick my pocket nor break my leg.” Yet political positions have become religious. The wrong electoral affiliation is akin to doubting the Trinity.

The difference, of course, is that politics does pick pockets and break legs. But those who oppose the assault are regularly derided or denounced.

Recognizing this, I’m wise enough to know the occasion and read the room. I attend a lot of galas, parties, and get togethers. But I rarely tell anyone what I write, or that I do (as I learned this weekend, I may not need to).

I also don’t (intentionally) drop controversial opinions into casual conversations. Aside from antagonism, there’s usually little point.

Few are persuaded by (or attracted to) self-righteous assertions. If contentious topics come up, they’re best addressed by asking questions… tho’, as Socrates discovered, such probing isn’t foolproof.

Unless I accidentally meet someone who’s read these missives, it’s rare that people discern my politics unless they divulge theirs first. I admit this is probably hypocritical.

Actually, it almost certainly is. But hypocrisy is a sauce that sustains society. Civilization depends on its inhabitants not preaching what they practice.

Like most of us, I often adhere to this precept and frequently violate it. I’ve lost “friends” by divulging what I think. But as I was reminded Saturday, I can find new ones by doing the same thing.

Even without the shield the screen provides.

JD