The dirtiest experience I can think of these days goes under a single word that starts with a ‘P’ and ends in ‘s’. An anathema that is so horrific that many won’t even entertain the thought of conjugating it silently in their own mind nor allow discussion of anything related to it without running to the nearest exit. Yet it is the defining element that is the source of lifelong frustration. As an individual cut off in the emotional desert of mass humanity it is impossible to imagine a world where strangers that one will never meet have such control over almost everything that you are allowed to believe. And certainly what you had better do, or else! The organism of the nuclear family vivisected by detaching nervous channels of direct communication but leaving the corpus just enough blood flow in its extremities to feel the full impact of futility about a future and make them suffer because of it. This ultimate horror of serving as a chattel in lifelong servitude based upon the vague notion of attainment of a personal fantasy refuge is the bonkers standard. You don’t dare have a one to one face to face conversation with anyone, stranger or friend, in an election season. Because what you will be offered format he other party is liable to drive you bonkers. And of course, your own sanity will be challenged because you will be roughly acquainted with the fact of how out their you really are because you have run afoul of the current ‘conventional acceptability’ of that aforementioned word. There is no room here for adequate ground level common sense or for carefully constructed intellectual “two plus two equal four’ didactic. The convenient fiction of rationalizing any contradiction approaching from afar summarily dismissed like some ancient Medieval trial by fire. The hand that picks up the red hot iron expected it’s flesh to miraculously survive empty of burned flesh and blisters. The resident dogma does not allow for any other experience! So the regular population are cast in the role of vampire bats challenged by the flickering light of their view screens to view this senseless truth that harmony and consensus are but empty words from a very distant unimaginable past. All this from the convenient notions that form the focus of modern penology. That chaos that comes to one’s soul when the worst of their animal inclinations are freed and released upon the world. And one realizes how very truly apart from everyone around them that they really are.