What's so tricky to grasp? Your entire M.O. is a kind of elaborate fence-sitting in service of the whatever hegemony applies. In situations where people are apt to feel strongly or debate gets heated, you like to dress this up as a kind of sangfroid and emphasize your supposed even-mindedness in contrast to hordes of foaming zealots on either side. We've been through this before - the effect of all this is to erase questions of power and imply that nothing matters and that all is for the best in this best of all possible worlds. If you were really stupid enough to think this was true you'd just sit in a corner drooling, or (I'm being charitable) ride around all day with an inanely contented grin. So by not buying it I'm actually paying you a compliment. A back-handed one, admittedly, but one can't be choosy in P&Lite...
Nothing is tricky to grasp here. I goof around and giggle at the zealots on both sides, but there is nothing even approaching equanimity in that stance. No-one would think there was. It simply makes no sense.
I don't dress it up as sangfroid. I'm pretty open about it being fairly puerile behaviour. So, nothing to do with equanimity. Absolutely nothing; whether by definition by or imposed or imagined motives fancifully perceived in my witless, schoolchild ramblings.
Equanimity was simply the wrong word and the more complex the explanation gets the more unusual it sounds.
All is for the best? I love Candide and am lucky enough to have enjoyed Voltaire in several languages, but there is nothing of Pangloss in me. Despite never being a professional soldier I've been shelled and shot at, threatened and hated for my supposed ethnicity (even by those
of my supposed ethnicity) and I find much of the soul of mankind hateful. Pangloss is a wonderful character, but he and I have nothing in common.
I do not drool, but I do often ride around grinning. How else can one ride? I almost always ride with a grin and may even have sailed over bonnets with one on my face. I had a relative who almost fits your 'drooling' image, but she died of a massive and unexplained seizure at 14. She didn't ride a bicycle. She barely spoke.
Of course I goof around on these threads. Of course I poke the zealots with a stick as a fool might poke a scorpion. But I do not pretend to show equanimity when I do so, nor would any sensible reader suppose I did or believe that I thought I did.
By playing the clown I invite ridicule and dissent. I invite it and I welcome it. Some people can manage that without the lemon twist. Sometimes the invective gets slightly nasty and personal.
Why, I do not know.