Somewhere between the invention of Facebook arguments and the extinction of common sense, America — and more specifically, our damp little microcosm of it called Ocean Shores — decided individuality was overrated.

These days, everyone’s personality seems to be a subscription plan. People don’t just support a politician anymore — they merge with them like symbiotic barnacles, latching on until the host either wins an election or drifts off into irrelevance.

And I get it. It’s tough out there. Some folks are lonely, others bored, and a few too many have discovered that dopamine hits harder when you post in all caps. But somewhere along the way, we replaced “I think” with “We believe,” and every disagreement became a holy war. Criticize someone’s favorite politician, and suddenly you’ve attacked them, their ancestors, their dog, and their emotional support Facebook group.

The great identity crisis

We’ve arrived at the point where no one can tell where they end and their political tribe begins. The irony? Most of these “tribes” wouldn’t know their members by name unless it was written on a yard sign. What started as civic engagement has mutated into cosplay patriotism — complete with digital pitchforks, memes as scripture, and a strange inability to handle nuance.

Reality used to be something we could all agree on. Now it’s whatever someone feels really strongly about on a Tuesday night after too much boxed wine and Fox/MSNBC. Facts? Optional. Feelings? Mandatory. And thus, the sacred phrase of our time was born: “That’s just my truth.” Which, for the record, is linguistic duct tape for “I don’t have evidence, but I’ll die defending the meme that said it.”

The Ocean Shores showdown: Position 7

Enter stage left: our latest gladiator match — the Ocean Shores City Council Position 7 race, featuring Curt Dooley and David Linn. One’s on the ballot, the other’s writing himself in, and somewhere in between them lies the tattered remains of our town’s sanity.

From the moment someone dared to utter “write-in campaign,” both sides of the political spectrum began hurling digital feces across Facebook like agitated zoo chimps. The local threads went from “civic dialogue” to “Lord of the Flies” in record time. Suddenly, national talking points — the ones we borrowed from pundits who’ve never even heard of Ocean Shores — invaded our feeds. You’d think our coastal town was ground zero for democracy itself, not a place where the most controversial thing last month was whether to keep the tent erect.

There have been outbursts, apologies, blocking sprees, and at least one person proclaiming they were “done with politics forever” (until someone posted something mildly provocative the next morning). Candidates block critics, critics form cliques, and everyone forgets that this isn’t Washington, D.C. — it’s Washington state.

Politics is a mirror, not a mask

Here’s the thing: running for office, especially in a small town, means signing up for public ridicule, bad Photoshop jobs, and unsolicited advice from people who haven’t read a city code since 1974. If you can’t take a little heat, maybe the civic kitchen isn’t for you. Blocking people only makes you look like you’re allergic to democracy. Let them talk. Let them sink their own ships while you keep rowing.

As I’ve said before — and yes, it’s Latin because it sounds more profound that way — “Ego sum populus, populus sum ego.” (“I am the people and the people are me.”) That means when you’re running for office, you represent all of us, not just the echo chamber that likes your posts.

And for the love of Neptune, it’s okay not to have every answer. You’re not auditioning for Jeopardy. What matters is the willingness to learn, listen, and circle back with facts — not Facebook flair.

So to the citizens of Ocean Shores: maybe we should all take a step back, remember we’re neighbors first, voters second, and online philosophers never. Because if every disagreement is a declaration of war, we’ll forget the simple truth — we’re all just humans trying to survive the rain, the deer, and the endless noise of our own comment sections.

Until next time, dear readers — keep your minds open, your geoducks clean, and your political identities separate from your actual personality.