Writing has become something of a compulsion for me. Since I'm not alone, there must be some gene or fragment of DNA that drives us to do such things. Why do composers compose? Why do painters paint? Why do writers write? And... why do madmen ask such questions?
At one time I had dozens of essays and other compositions online. In the earlier days, most of my writing had to do with our President at the time. I had no qualms about letting that animal have it with both barrels. Unfortunately, it cost me a friend: a woman I'd known for years suddenly took everything I'd said against him as personal attacks on her.
That not only ended our friendship, but killed a business arrangement we were forming as well. And it halted my habit of publishing my personal opinions online for fear of offending the feelings of any other friends.
It got me wondering: what has happened to our collective ability to discuss, peacefully and rationally, our opinions? Has the political environment put everyone on High Alert?
No matter. Because, even scarier, it's becoming clear that close to half of our population is devolving. No longer are we a diverse melting pot of strong, resilient immigrants; we're instead becoming a mass of ignorant, hypersensitive xenophobic bigots. It makes me quite thankful that my time left on this planet is limited.
This brief perspective is likely divisive enough to do the job of any dozen essays from the recent past, thus I see no need to recycle any of my earlier material.
Sorry to disappoint if you were actually looking forward to some of my musings; they are all now digital dust, as will I soon be.