Calm the fart down, PLEASE.

Have you ever dreamed of a world where you could have a pleasant, intellectual conversation with a neighbor and share sincere, organically developed thoughts and notions without bumping into the political divide?

Say you cross paths with your neighbor, Jim, in the supermarket, and he proudly lets you know he just got his flu shot at the pharmacy. What if you could just let Jim know that you're glad he's happy about his decision to load his body up with methyl-mercury, aluminum, and formaldehyde (without saying so much, perhaps) without having to experience a lump of dread in the pit of your stomach when he asks you if you've gotten yours yet. And wouldn't it be as fine as frog fuzz split four ways if the two of you could just let the other know - ever so sweetly - why you do or do not like injecting yourself with exotic chemicals, slap each other companionably on the back and have your merry parting 'til next time? What would be the temperature of the political climate if it were so?

Hello, I go by Ealdtreow (that's Old English for "old tree"), and just like you (maybe) and Popeye the Sailor Man I've had about all of it I can stands, and I'm disgustipated! (I hope that wasn't a microaggression.)

But it weren't always so. I too used to get all worked up if somebody would assume that I was on the opposite end of the political spectrum from them just because I had a different opinion about some totally unrelated topic. But I want you to know, dear reader, that I am committed to the principle of Voluntaryism in practically everything in life that I don't have absolute despotic control over. Which is to say ... nothing really, but it sounded great didn't it? In any case, nowadays, when I'm confronted by some easily-agitated, bleeding-heart, bed-wetting, safe-space, snowflake, basket-case bozo, I just remember that their disintegrating opinion of me doesn't invalidate my existence or put a black mark on my conscience. Then I'll think of that catchy old tune that puts your chakras right back in order (I'm talking about "Somewhere Over the Rainbow" by the Israel fella' whose family name is completely unpronounceable), I go to my happy place, and finally I give them that genial ol' head bob and smile, and top it off with the words, "Sir, I'm gonna have to ask you to step out of the vehicle". ...Or something along those lines: you can ad-lib according to what you think you can pull off. Then, after so many tiresome words, we finish off our deescalation with the grudging acceptance of my anti-party, maximum freedom-for-all point of view.

But back to the main point, shall we then? Right. What the deuce happened to 'Merica!? Why can't we all have a friendly once 'round the dance floor without stepping on the toes of the dancers, the band, and the poor schmuck sweeping up the parking lot? Listen, I just wanted to give you my opinion of fast food since you asked me, not get verbally pummeled by your politics because I don't eat cheeseburgers.

I'm not saying we should pretend that there are no politics (although, I think that if we did the politicians might have to go away and leave us alone for a little while), but let's just give ourselves a little KiiP check (Keep it in Perspective) now and then, if we can? Imagine. We could be friends again, Jim.