I really don’t know what to advise some people to do with me. Really; I get carried away. Here’s my latest example; an email out to the whole list in response to friends in our town home complex inviting everyone over for an elections-results party. We’re warned that it’s a democrat household, but everyone is welcome, which I know for sure is the truth. ‘S’ and ‘J’ are special people and I’m happy to count them as friends.
On with it.
Well, I’ve been letting ‘FP’ off the hook lately, and in any case, I don’t get political unless in response to someone else (so ‘fair game’). Don’t know whether I can take all the "excitement," but you know I always enjoy the two of you, ‘S’ and ‘J’.
Ah, the bi-annual tribal ritual. Which tribe shall prevail? Me? I’ll be rooting for the tribe that "wins" most elections: the 40-50% or so who don’t vote, leaving the other tribes to divvy up the rest. But seriously, my life, property, and rights aren’t up for a vote, and I don’t believe any of yours are either. In short, I’d never consider doing that to you.
But what choices, eh? I get to choose from the tribe who proposes to steal more and more of what I produce, using it to ensure I can’t possibly get very far ahead of the pack, vs. the tribe with their imaginary friend — just dandy — who proposes to steal just a bit less than the other tribe, using it to make sure I get every opportunity to live as their imaginary friend would have me to, interpreted by themselves, of course.
Recognizing that democracy bears little material difference to two wolves and one sheep "deciding" what’s for dinner, perhaps I ought to just spend election night — or hey!, Halloween — searching for a wolf costume.
Or maybe I’ll see y’all there — in my usual good spirits, of course.
"The whole aim of practical politics is to keep the populace alarmed — and hence clamorous to be led to safety — by menacing with an endless series of hobgoblins, all of them imaginary."
— H. L. Mencken
I’m just down right incorrigible.