Harold Hill is smiling somewhere.  The troubles in River City and so many other woeful towns have left many of us grasping at straws, (which prove to be quite yummy with a little marinara), opening the floodgates for scams by shyster traveling salesmen.  Some of the hucksters come to town on elaborate buses in the guise of politicians, some travel the airwaves with their unsubstantiated bluster and countless others meander imaginary whistle stops, blogging banal blather in battered bathrobes.  The unscrupulous Professor Hill had only greedy intentions when he got off the train, but because Meredith Wilson was a hopeless optimist and mostly because a well-played, in tune closing number makes for better theater, those intentions are trumped by the magical thesis of believing in oneself…oh, and the libidinal influence of a hot librarian.  In our real life scenario…not so much.

We certainly have Trouble…with a capital ‘T’ and that rhymes with ‘P’ and that stands for Personal Freedom.  But, unlike the cut-and-dried correlation between the evils of Pool, (which everyone knows can lead to “…tryin’ out Bevo” and “…tryin’ out cubebs”), and the degradation of society, the snake oil salesmen that are bandying for our attention warn of the usurpation of our right to free choice.  Tragically, the choices that they are defending are from a finite, approved list based on their own, specific ideological agenda.  Some choice.