Midterm elections are looming on the horizon like Dracula hovering over the milky white neck of a helpless maiden. The horror stories being told are making my skin crawl and my stomach turn. Politicians are the monsters of the season.You don’t have to wait for a full moon to see the werewolf in them—they’re day walkers. They rip their opponents apart and accuse them of being just shy of the spawn of Satan himself. It’s worse than a sea of zombies. No wonder it’s apropos that elections come right after Halloween.
If I’m running for office, you can bet I’m going to slap a label on my opponent so fast it’ll make your head spin. I’m going to call you a right-winged radical racist, immigrant hating, sexist, homophobic Social Security busting, sexually-harassing, big-time Washington insider. Or maybe I’ll call you a left-wing radical tree-hugging, gun-hating, anti-wall building, lobbyist-loving, traditional family hating liberal, intent on giving the country away.Either way, somebody’s going to believe me, no matter what the facts are.
Then I’m going to get my supporters more stirred up than the angry mob of villagers who went after Dr. Frankenstein’s monster. They’re going to post on anti-social media some of the most damnable crap anyone’s ever heard, and they’ll be so zealous about it they’ll have fights with their mummy, their deaddy, and their friends. They may even take somebody out with a choke hold or a presidentially endorsed body slam. Even if I were to talk about the issues, I’ll pander to you and give you false information that will get me elected and nobody will care that what I said was a pot of witch’s brew. As long and we keep the beasts out of office, the ends justify the means.
That’s how we roll here in the ghastly ole USA these days. Is this a great country or what?
It’s spooky. It’s downright bloodcurdling and bone-chilling. I haven’t seen America so dismembered since the Civil Rights Movement and the Viet Nam War. In some ways today’s slicing and dicingis even worse. Why? In part, because of the Grim Divider who lurks in his lair, The Ogre’s Office. POTUS has become the Creature from the Black Lagoon of Washington, D.C. (Dark Cauldron).
But it’s not all POTUS’ fault. He’s no Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde. He wasn’t wearing a mask when he was elected. He is who he is and we all knew it. Phantoms, ghouls, and hobgoblins have infiltrated every political party and we’re lashing out like scarecrows wielding meat cleavers. We need a wizard to freeze time, so a not-so-mad doctor can inject us with a civility serum. We need the Ghostbusters to suck the slime out of the nooks and crannies of the grisly process, so the horrors can end. But there’s only one way that’s going to happen.
We the people have to spit out our fangs, withdraw our claws, and stop speaking with forked tongues. We must have a return to statesmanship with its climate of respect. We don’t have to make nice. We can still disagree vehemently and fight vigorously for our causes. Personal attacks and lies must cease. But somebody has to do it first.
Neither the Democrats nor the Republicans are going to put down their saws and scythes any time soon. Like every great social movement, the change will have to start with one person—one brave soul who will pound a stake of sensibility into the heart of indecency. The wise old owl sitting in a tree under a full moon asks the right question: “Who?” 
