If I were the king of the forest,  I would send all the media home for 60 days right after the mid-term elections. We need some quiet in the house please.

As T.S Eliot once said, “how much reality can humankind handle?”  Do we really need to score these folks every minute of the day?

The whole concept of proportionality has gone down the drain. Politics is only the art of the possible it is not the end game. There are not just two sides either. The global economy and the paradigm shifts in our workforce are way to complicated to be pigeonholed into a false dichotomy of Red and Blue.  We have lost our moorings of civility and a lexicon for consensus building. If any of these current day political ranters were in the Armed Forces they would be getting office hours and Article 15’s for their impudent ways.  In fact, many are an embarrassment to our troops who are literally defending their right to be so intractably addicted to daily adolescent school yard diatribes. Lets try to make the soldiers proud of us.

Lets just all button up for 60 days. Give these nubile electeds a chance to find the mess hall and maybe some breathing room to accomplish something of value for all of us who are not so troubled as some imagine.

I declare that the “Untroubled,” are the true silent majority. And many have simply had their fill of the tripartite narcissism that is rampant in all media forms; print, telecast and broadcast.

Can you imagine Vince Lombardi in the halls of Congress?  The team comes first not the players and the strategists. Lets just stop listening to them and read some poetry and play some music.  It is we who fuel the feeding frenzy for pugnacity and polarity.

Lets have some quiet in the house please.

By Emily Dickinson

This World is not conclusion/ A Species stands beyond/ Invisible, as Music/ But positive as Sound/ It beckons, it baffles/ Philosophy–don’t know/ And through a riddle at the last/ Sagacity must go/ To guess it puzzles scholars? To gain it, Men have borne/ Contempt of Generations/ And Crucifixion shown/ Faith slips–laughs, and rallies/ Blushes if any see/ Plucks at a twig of  Evidence/ And asks a Vane, the way/ Much Gesture from the Pulpit/ Strong Hallelujahs roll/ Narcotics cannot still the Tooth/ That nibbles at the soul.

Tell the Truth but tell it slant/ Success in Circuit lies/ Too bright for our infirm Delight/ The Truth’s superb surprise/ As Lightning to the children eased/ With explanation kind/ The Truth must dazzle gradually/ Or every man be blind.