don’t dream it’s over

Staring at graffiti on the back of a train seat he started to think about how low the general level of discourse had sank. He mused on how the finer points of debate are obliterated in favor of a thumping, shouting, ranting style of argument that serves more to bolster the ego of the arguer than to prove or disprove the argument. He lamented the nature of contemporary debate that attacked the person rather than the logic. He was saddened by empty talking heads and issue whores that saw politics as a means to celebrity. He was disgusted at how political parties were followed as blindly as the local sports franchise. He was angry that the after millions of years of evolution the human mind had only progressed this far. He was surprised that there are so few who see that we are, each of us, little more than a constellation of particles with a deep association to a particular time and space… that identity is an illusion… that the self is a side effect… that the lines we draw and the borders we honor are arbitrary barriers that prohibit a profound understanding of what we call life.