Salutary rituals and the other kind

Sunday seems as good a day as any,

don't you suppose, to ponder the

problem of the eerily metabolic

propensity of this political year,

for shoveling forth execrable data.

Just as an innocent observer of the

passing scene senses an aperture of

daylight, a new cascade of nausea

reaches one in headlines, declaring

the latest in revolting misconduct,

from the most incurably treacher-

ous mendicants for one's favor, in

the best of circumstances. Throw in

the gathering incidence of massacre,

add the ongoing orgy of ambition in

the media, and a simple smile, when

published, can be read as a symptom

of bipolarity, or of lewd denial. 

Yes, these are the rituals which ab-

sorb our betters, but they tireless-

ly enlist one in them. In life, an

observance of dental hygiene reminds

a normal man of his entitlement to

his own senses; and despite an ad-

mittedly constructive downside to

this gainful indulgence of ritual,

when it's over he enjoys the sensa-

tion of release which is the hall-

mark of responsible conduct. He can

allow his waistband to ride where

it may; with a conscience so clear,

he's his own time left for morning.

                Oh Rokehope is a pleasant place

                If the fause thieves would let it be

Ford Madox Ford

The Last Post

  Epigraph from a

  Border ballad

1928

Vintage Books, 1979©