MIDDLE GROUND
We’ve lost the middle ground.
Either we sit around the campfire of burning hate literature singing Kumbaya, holding hands and reciting the mantra “We are the world”...
...or we take out a gun and shoot a young couple for parking in front of our house while they go visit our neighbours with their newborn baby.
The middle ground is no longer around, or a square. It’s become a null and void rhomboid of confusion and contradiction...
DON’T PAINT IT BEIGE
...but spank a diapered bum and suddenly you’re serving six months to one, for a beating that never was;
But spare the rod, lower the hand and put away the fly swatter and by the time they’re four you can’t take it anymore.
By the age of eight, an asylum looks great.
Before they’re eleven it’s time for boarding school heaven, even if it means selling the Harley so you don’t have to daily deal with the snarly, disrespectful, foul-mouthed version of the cousin you never invite for dinner, let alone educate and clothe and feed and buy the X-Box for.
There IS a ‘U’ in “educate”, but they won’t let you educate your own children.
Educate them in ‘cause and effect’, ‘crime and punishment’, ‘action and reaction’.
‘Reaction’, not ‘inaction’.
Not all passive no aggressive.
More ‘Highway to Hell’ and less ‘Kumbaya’.
Love is good, love is great, but it’s just the flipside of hate.
Not “I’m-better-than-you” hate, but ‘I hate tofu”, “I hate Wisteria Lane” or
“I hate people who are afraid to voice an opinion for fear of being shoved aside and beaten down by the Love Police, the Co-operation Cops, the self-appointed picket-fencers doing a destructive epee and riposte against harsh words, raised voices, rights not to be left outside the bubble.
The bubble.
The social anti-bacterial soap bubble keeping us from catching conversational colds or fractious-friends flu or watch-what-you-say fever.
We’ve gone from ‘faster, slower, higher, lower” to “beige --- I think I’ll paint it beige”.
But beige is just paint, covering sins, hiding crimes, keeping us all on an even keel on waveless seas for one more verse of Kumbaya, one more flight to Cloud Nine.
Trading vanGogh and Picasso for Hello Kitty and Care Bears.
Well, Smurf it! Let there be “I love Thrash Metal” or Folk or Baby Beluga; and let there be hate ---
I hate rude drivers, I hate cowardly terrorists, I hate the victimizers and will not hold their hand and welcome them into my paint shop for a coat of concealer, a killer coat of beige.
I will scream “Faster faster faster... slower, yes, slower... now a little bit higher and a whole lot lower.”
Make a few friendly waves and then surf that curl all the way to “Don’t Be Such A Beach”.
If you take a stand in the middle of the road
Expect to get run over by those of us unafraid to have Drive.
Follow the Instinct Interstate away from Beige Boulevard
And straight toward Express-myself Expressway.
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